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“Seth, whether good or bad, the only person who can truly understand one’s motives is the person doing whatever they’re doing,” John says, every word tossing a little bucket of water on the raging fire inside of me. “Your sister could bake me a dozen of my favorite cookies, and while I can guess she did it because I’m obviously her favorite father-in-law, there is absolutely no way for me to know her heart’s true motives. Even if she told me, it’s still whatever whispered in her own heart first that I don’t think anyone can truly express.”
Normally I would be wishing I had a photographic memory so I could remember those words later to write then down in quotations with– John Bryantunderneath. I literally have a few notes from quotes I’ve been able to recall after conversations like this one over the years at my house simply because John somehow provides sound wisdom in a grounded way.
Today, however, I’m bristled. Between last night and my lack of sleep and my father’s backhanded manipulations, I am a ticking time bomb that’s really trying to figure out how to deactivate itself but failing miserably. Because I can’t sit any longer without bursting, I press to my feet and pace to the edge of the dock.
This has always been one of my spots of serenity. It’s always been so easy for me to stand on this wooden dock and gaze out over the massive expanse of deep blue water, allowing the breeze to lift my burdens from my shoulders. It’s where I’ve had dozens of heartfelt conversations with John, where I’ve done hundreds of cannonballs into the lake, where I first decided I wanted to become a cop. I have never walked off this dock feeling heavier than when I stepped onto it.
Never.
But today, that might change.
“I won’t try to explain your father’s actions and I won’t justify them, either.” John’s low voice breaks into the silence. “But I will tell you what I’ve told you—and my children, for that matter—many times before. Every single person on this vast planet has been hurt by someone or something. Doesn’t matter if it’s a sibling pulling what they saw as a harmless prank that stung or a parent choosing drugs over his own children.Nobody—not one person in the eight billion people on earth—will walk through this life unscathed or without hurts. It’s physically and emotionally impossible. If we couldn’t experience pain, we wouldn’t be human. We would be robots. But we do have the choice of what we do with our pain, and I will always be a firm believer in that. We’re given the choice to turn our pain—no matter how deep it runs—into power. And believe me, once you figure out how to do that in your own way, you will be thankful for the opportunities every single hurt you’ve experienced ends up providing for you.”
I swallow hard as John comes to stand beside me, shoulder to shoulder, and brush my thumb under my eye to prevent the tear I feel from running down my cheek. John sets his hand on my shoulder, the pressure of his strong, warm palm like an instant balm to my bruised soul.
“I don’t know why Jude decided to send that email after eight months,” he says quietly. “I can’t say I’ll probably ever know. But what Idoknow, with all the certainty in the world, is that both of my sons can conduct themselves and business matters with integrity no matter what they decide to do. And I know you won’t let what happened this morning destroy the man you are. I know you’re not a sappy guy, but I don’t care right now. I’ve had the privilege of watching you grow up, Seth, and I’ve seen you become a man who is respected, honorable, kind, a little bit stubborn, and more than a little bit courageous. You may not be my son by blood, but there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by since you and Jess came into our lives that I haven’t thanked God for the two of you. And yes, I could be wrong. Today could completely ruin you. I just really don’t think that’s the Seth I know.”
For a moment I’m silent, smashing my lips shut as I try to repress the urge to tell him everything. No, this morning won’t ruin me. I’m used to my father’s twisted games by now. It’s been twenty-two years since I saw the man, but it still impacts everything I do, even if indirectly.
But last night… Walking out on Jenna like I did? That might very well haunt me forever if I don’t face it. I mean, look at me. It’s been eleven years since Sierra said those final, gutting words to me and they’re still so fresh in my mind I can recite them word for word as though it was just yesterday.
“There’s more, isn’t there?” John’s hand is still on my shoulder, and his words feel like a direct blow to my chest.
“I…” I lick my dry lips, my palms going clammy as I fist and unfist my fingers, struggling to find words around the lump in my throat. “Yes. There’s more.”
“Would you like to talk about it?”
And there it is—my breaking point. Those seven words, spoken with reverent fatherly concern, make me open up like a storybook. I don’t know if a single word I’m saying makes any sense whatsoever because I get choked up more than once, but I tell him everything I’ve never told anyone else after Sierra.
I tell him about the memories from my childhood I still cling to. I tell him how terrified I was in the back of the social worker’s car that unassuming Friday morning my father was arrested. I tell him how I tried to be strong for Jess while reading her bedtime stories, and how I cried myself to sleep after. I tell him I was never more scared in my life than the day I thought I was going to lose him after his accident. I tell him we were standing on this exactly dock when I was twelve and I decided I was going to become a cop because of him, no matter if my aunt and uncle fought it.
I tell him I struggled in college on Parents’ Day when he and Jackie were the ones who showed up instead of my own aunt and uncle. I tell him I hated partying and spent my time studying or working at the grocery store up the street from campus because I was putting myself through college since Meredith and Elias didn’t approve my career choice. I tell him that, every time Jess or the Bryants came to visit, I felt like the proudest kid there.
I tell him I saw a counselor my entire senior year of college. I tell him I cried in front of that counselor even though I felt like a complete fool doing so. I tell him everything about Sierra—my regrets, my hurts, my anger. And lastly, I tell him about last night, about the way I left Jenna.
And when I finish, he doesn’t say that those things just happen in life. He doesn’t say I was an idiot to rush into things so quickly with Sierra. He doesn’t say I should’ve made better choices and I would’ve gotten better results. In fact, he says nothing at first, because he knows I know all of those things. No, what he does is a thousand times more powerful.
He turns to face me and waits until I do the same, and then he wraps his arms around me in an embrace that invites me to let my tears fall onto his shoulder. I squeeze my eyes shut as he holds me like I’ve always imagined my father doing. I feel like a little boy as we stand here, though John’s not much shorter than I am and he’s just as strong as I am, if not stronger. I know he’s stronger emotionally and spiritually than me.
Then, in a surprisingly strong voice given the fact there are tears in his own eyes as he steps back, his hands still on my shoulders, he says, “Forgive yourself, Seth. It doesn’t change the past, I know, but it can and it will change your future. And you know as well as I do that, if you look in the rearview mirror for too long, you’re going to crash. They say that life’s a journey, and I agree. But to get anywhere on that journey, it’s up to you to fill up your tank with the right fuel, put your foot on the pedal, andkeep your eyes on the road ahead.”
Chapter Seventeen
Jenna
Iimagine some people spend unexpected days off from work shopping or meeting up with friends at a cutesy restaurant for lunch or, I don’t know, sitting on the couch all day watching movies while eating snacks with insanely unhealthy ingredients.
But I wouldn’t know because I have done none of those things today. Well, I guess I was on the couch for a little while, but it’s not the same as I was describing. In all fairness, when Joanna texted me last night—or was it the night before? My days are running together—that there was a pipe leak and Farm to Table would be closed today, I decided I was going to do something fun with my kids. Partly to distract myself from whatever happened with Seth shortly before Jo texted—you should be proud to know I didn’t tell her anything about that—and partly because why the heck not? As much as I appreciate Alice watching them every day and I know the kids love her, I’m just not the type of mom to leave her kids on a day off for some “free time.”
Would it be nice? Probably. I imagine it would be. But at this present moment in time, my babies are already growing up too fast. Why should I spend my day shopping and eating out and couch surfing when I can spend it taking Ella and Eli to the zoo in Omaha?
Or at least that was the original plan, until Ella woke up in the middle of the night with a tummy ache and Eli started running a mild fever a couple hours later. I’d even gone online to get early admission and bought tickets for us to go to the IMAX, planning to surprise them when they woke up by having the tickets printed and set by their bowls at the kitchen table. Omaha’s only an hour or so away, so it would’ve been an easy day trip.
But none of that happened. The morning was spent trying to get some food in the kids only to have it come back up, and then we watched a movie because they couldn’t eat or sleep, and then we repeated the whole process again. Alice was an absolute angel when she heard, because she brought some chicken noodle soup over and sat down with them while I took a quick shower and finally changed out of my pajamas. It wasn’t until half past two that I managed to get them both down for naps, and believe me, I wanted one myself. I didn’t give into that desire. I cleaned the kitchen up, made my grocery list for tomorrow, and completed my budget for the month of July. I also got full refunds for the unused zoo tickets after thirty minutes on the phone with a lady who must’ve had trust issues, because it took a lot of repetitions to convince her we hadnotbeen at the zoo.
Now, however, I am indulging myself in one small luxury on my own by sitting on my bed with my comforter as a tent and eating ice cream straight out of the carton. I feel like the mom inMoms’ Night Out,though I’m not in a closet and I’m not watching an eagle tend its nest. But I guess I’m still hiding like she was. I have a baby monitor, but I don’t have supper figured out. I don’t know why Seth freaked out last night. I don’t know if Pete is having an attorney draw up some kind of papers to take me to court right this minute because I never responded to his text, and it’s been days. I have no idea if I’ll get any sleep tonight or if the kids will wake up feeling better.
Basically, the only thing I do know is that I’m probably three bites of Ben & Jerry’s away from a complete breakdown and that I should’ve brought a box of Kleenexes into my cocoon with me.
