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She picked at the squash and onions. “Not much. Finish up going through the last of the boxes and maybe read a little.”
They two ate in silence for a while until he asked, “You haven’t been out with Mike lately.”
Phil Kohler was a brilliant man but often had his head buried in the sand, so his question left Sam with her mouth hanging open. He didn’t notice as he scarfed down dinner. “But if you want to finish up the boxes, I can help.”
“Oh yeah, okay,” she said, catching his eye before he went quiet again.
The real estate agent was scheduled to come next week to get the house on the market, and after these last few things were gone through, they would finally be done. The house would be ready to sell.
After Sam and her father finished up eating, he made himself comfy in the living room, and she carried the remaining boxes and containers in. With Janis Joplin playing quietly through her phone, they sorted through the junk and keepsakes, old photos, and framed college degrees. Phil held up what looked like a papier-mâché animal of some sort, but the face had long ago been mangled. The only way they knew which child made it was Gavin’s messy name scribbled on the back.
“Not much of an artist,” Phil said with a laugh as he set it down.
Sam got out a little dusty photo album to flip through. “He improved as he got older.”
He tipped his head back and forth, weighing a thought. “Yeah, but he’s too much like me. Too analytical. You’re the artist like your mom.”
She set the photo album down in her lap. “You think so?”
With his hands and eyes on what he was doing, he answered, “Absolutely. You’re curious and imaginative, independent and compassionate.”
All these years, Sam had always thought she was like her dad, academic and a bit like the Tin Man, all head and no heart. Though, seeing herself through her father’s eyes, maybe she was like her mother. And as much as she’d like to deny it, she hid her emotions so she didn’t get overwhelmed by them because she felt things so deeply.
“Look at this,” Phil said, holding up a plastic coffee mug with a photo in it of the Kohler clan. Carol held baby Gavin next to Phil, who had his arm around Sam. They were all smiling. “I wonder what this was for?”
He turned it upside down, presumably looking for a date or name, but found none and shrugged, placing it next to him instead of in the junk pile. Sam went back to the photo album, full of Polaroids of Phil and Carol when they were younger. She studied them with a growing smile. Of Carol in overalls and a spiky pixie cut eating pizza, of Phil in an oversized T-shirt and shorts at the beach, waving at whoever took the picture.
“How did you and Mom meet?”
“Me and your mother?” He lifted his eyes to a spot on the wall, lost in thought. “A party, but I don’t remember where or when. She and I had friends in common, and…” He met Sam’s eyes, touching the arm of his glasses. “What I remember was that she had sunflowers on her dress, so I told her about a study that planted sunflowers around certain crops to attract predacious insects to control the pest population.”
Sam laughed. “Such a nerd.”
He flashed her a rare smile. “She loved it.” With an audible breath, he said more quietly, “For a little while, at least.”
Sam continued to flip through the album, finding more pictures of her parents together.
“I’m sorry, Samantha. I don’t know if I ever told you that.”
She glanced up to find her dad staring at her.
“I know how hard the divorce was on you, and I’m sorry that I never…” He blinked a few times, but his eyes were still glassy. “It was too late by the time I realized I needed to get out of my own way, and I’m sorry. You deserved better than that.”
She appreciated the apology and nodded her acceptance, her own eyes stinging.
“I never stopped loving your mom, but I didn’t know how to show her. And I fear that I was a bad example for you.”
“That’s not—”
He held up his hand to silence her. “When you love someone, you show them. Like right now—” He arched his hand around the floor. “You didn’t have to come home for the summer to be with me, but you did without being asked. Becauseyoushow up when you love someone. And you deserve that in return. When you decide you want to love someone, make sure they show it every day. That’s what you deserve.”
Sam touched her cheek, surprised to find a tear there, and wiped it away. “Thanks, Dad.”
He fixed his glasses on his nose with a sniff and went back to work, while she put the photo album to the side. She was sure neither one of her parents would want it, but this was her history. The silly pictures of her parents young and in love, it was how she came to be in existence, and she wanted to keep them. She also kept the family photo of them at an amusement park. Gavin was a toddler clinging to Sam’s hand, while their parents stood behind them.
Then because she was good at showing it but needed practice saying it, she sat on the couch, next to her dad, and threw her arm around his shoulders. “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, sweetheart.”
