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And once again, we’re chopped liver to the fur child.
“You know, I kept my mouth shut for a long time. You know how much your mother gets upset about you not coming to events, not participating with the family? How you hid in that closet for months to avoid our employees? I figured you would come around, and you did. For a while.”
I open my mouth to speak, and Dad holds up his hand.
“I’m not done. Happiness is a choice. Yes, you had a lot of shitty things happen to you, things that broke my heart as a parent.” He sniffles and looks at me.
I look up at him. “I can’t force myself into being happy, Dad.”
“Happiness is hard work. You have to choose it, every day. Life doesn’t make it easy. It was easier for you to lock yourself in your apartment, drink yourself to sleep, and lock yourself in the office. How was that working out for you?”
Blood drains from my face.
“I was a mess after Woody died. A mess. I had to see someone to talk about it.”
“Did you see atherapist?” My happy-go-lucky dad going to therapy?
“Yes, I went to therapy. I had a lot of guilt about being gone when it happened. That you had to deal with it after all you went through. That’s what I feel guilty of most of all.”
My dad felt guilty?
“It was okay, Dad. Cameron, Reid, and Emily were here.”
“I know that.” He instinctually lowers his hand to give the dog scratches on the ears. He leans against his leg, the tongue still dangling. “Woody will always be in my heart. I wasn’t ready when I first met Koda, but I became ready because I felt in my heart of hearts that he was the right dog for me.
“Maybe you weren’t ready to meet a woman, but Shiloh just crashed into your life before you could become ready. It’s just my opinion, but you’re never going to find a better woman than her. Amy would approve. I believe that with every fiber of my being.” My dad’s voice cracks at the end.
To avoid seeing my dad emotional, I study the swirls in marble on the counter. I wasn’t ready when I met her. I was back in this town, dealing with all the memories, pulling my parents’ flailing business out from the ashes. We’re finally in the black, two of my brothers are in serious relationships, my dad has a new dog. It feels like the world is righting itself, but I can’t move forward.
“Did you ever get into therapy, son? After Amy died?”
I shake my head.
“Get in therapy. And please for the love of God, go through the boxes in the attic. Your mother has been nagging me forever to bring it up with you.”
“I’ll get to it. Soon.” I stand up from my chair.
“Great. They’re all in a corner with a piece of paper with your name on it. If you could figure out what to do with them and get them moved, your mother would be ecstatic. You have time now that you’re not with Shiloh every second.”
I wish I was. My evenings are completely free now that Shiloh and I aren’t speaking, and I need something to do.
I’m almost to the edge of the kitchen when my dad calls out to me. I turn toward my dad, he’s still petting that dog. “Mom and I will pay for your therapy. We should’ve offered a long time ago.”
“Thanks Dad, but I can handle it. I’ll call.”
I surprise myself because it’s only three days before I face the boxes.
When I finally walk to the stairs to the attic, I chuckle. We used to think the staircase was haunted when we were kids. The only one brave enough to go was Cameron, and he would mess with us, making up outlandish stories of what was up there. He once convinced us there was a ghost from the gold rush haunting the attic named Mildred and would hide and knock walls to scare us.
I fear for my life since the stairs creak as I climb but then I’m under a low ceiling, with dust particles floating through the air, light fracturing the space. I find my stack of boxes in the corner.
I take a deep breath and inch closer. I know what most of those boxes hold.
My life with Amy.
When I left for Seattle immediately after she died, I left behind most of her stuff. I gave her parents her most important stuff, like her wedding set and her Bible. There were other things shoved into boxes and I didn’t give it to them, although they held childhood memories.
I should’ve returned that too. I just wasn’t thinking.
