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Holland
It's been lessthan twenty-four hours since I've seen Reed and still, my stomach flutters and dips when I hear the doorbell ring.
Every time I catch myself thinking of him, a twist of guilt forms in the pit of my stomach. Not just because I feel like I’m betraying Emery, but because I feel selfish in allowing myself to feel this way about him, even if it is in secret.
I don’t want to jeopardize my relationship with Em, so therefore, the secret crush on Reed I’ve been harboring will remain just that. A secret.
Dad looks up from his recliner in the living room when I pass by to get the door. He gives me a small smile, and I remember why it is that I work so hard. For him.
I open the door, and Reed’s there smiling, charming and bright. He's casual today in jeans, a worn white tee and sneakers that look like he's had them for a decade. It reminds me of the days when we were younger and he was always outside on the ice, playing hockey with his friends.
"Morning," he says.
"Good morning." I swing the door open wider, gesturing for him to come inside.
When he steps into the foyer, he looks around. "Wow, this place hasn't changed at all since we were kids."
"Yeah, I try to keep things familiar for Dad."
He nods, understanding what I'm saying without having to say it. Dad's dementia has taken a turn in the last few years, and each day that I have him, really have him, is a day I cherish.
Reed may be on the road six months out of the year, but he and my dad have always had a friendly relationship. We've lived next door to the Davidsons for over half my life. Whenever their lawnmower broke and Reed was kicking and cursing the thing after trying to get it working again, my dad went over and helped. When Dad needed help painting the garage, Reed spent the entire day painting with him and never once complained or expected anything in return. Anytime Dad needed help with the boat that dad adored, when we were younger, Reed would come over and spend the day in the shop working on it with him.
Reed walks into the living room and his face softens when he sees Dad in the recliner. "Hey, old man."
Dad looks up and his eyes light up the second he sees Reed. He's having a good morning; he must recognize him.
"Ah, you're a hot shot hockey player now. Think you're too good to come around and visit this old man anymore?"
Dad tries to stand from the recliner, but his legs are shaky and he's having trouble. Reed immediately steps in and offers him his arm. He lifts him from the chair effortlessly, so Dad can stand face to face with him, and shake his hand.
The entire thing causes tears to well in my eyes, and I quickly swipe them away. I don't want Reed to see. It just… does something to my heart to see him treat my dad with so much respect and love. It makes my heart ache in the same way because my dad is losing himself more and more every day, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Nothing that I can do to lessen the pain of his life fading. To help him be the person he's always been and not feel like less of a man. I can hardly stand the pain in my chest on his bad days.
The days that he forgets me or calls me by my mother’s name. It’s difficult, and it’s even harder knowing that I’m helpless, that I have to sit back and watch it happen without being able to change it.
"Nah, never. You know how much I enjoy sharing a beer. I came by to fix the furnace, it's been acting up for Holland."
"That damn thing, it's as old as she is. I've been meaning to replace it, but I've been real busy at the Mill."
I still.Oh Daddy.
Reed doesn't skip a beat; he just pats dad on the back. "You take care of yourself, okay? Come on over to Ma's if you need any help with the boat, alright?"
Dad smiles and shakes his hand again.
"Don't be a stranger, you here? I miss ya, kid."
Only then do I let the tears fall hot and heavy down my cheeks; I leave the foyer and walk into the kitchen to have a moment to compose myself. I didn't imagine a situation like this when Reed said he was coming to fix the furnace, and I am not emotionally prepared for it.
"Holland?" Reed's voice, deep and husky, comes from the entryway of the kitchen, and I swipe away a few stray tears and turn toward him, giving him a watery smile.
"Sorry, I'm just-" He cuts me off and stalks over, pulling me into his arms.
It takes me off guard. The comfort, the closeness, all of it. I grew up with Reed, but it’s not like we’ve spent much time touching each other. It’s exactly what I needed in this moment but would’ve never asked for.
I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lip until I taste the metallic tinge of blood as I attempt to hold back a sea of tears. Reed's hand strokes the back of my head as I let out a small whimper.
"Don't apologize for feeling, Holland. I know it's hard, and you do it all by yourself."
