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How things went with her.
So good, at first. That was exciting. I haven’t felt that alive, that happy and good, in years. But it was foolish for us to cross certain lines. An accident. It could have been prevented if we’d both used a little more caution.
Then maybe—maybe—her leaving wouldn’t hurt this much.
My father peers at me through the veil of tiny wet drops that sprinkle down on us. “You put in some extra hours tonight.”
“Yeah, I guess I was….” I hesitate and then spit the words out. My father’s become vulnerable, with his Parkinson’s. That makes me want to be vulnerable with him. I meet his softness with some of my own. “I don’t know… using work, maybe. As a distraction.”
“Your mother said you started this game night with a woman. Maddison. Her photo was on social media. You know how your mother gets, with her detective work. She did some snooping. Showed me a few pictures. Pretty girl… we thought we’d meet her tonight.”
“Yeah, well, she left town.”
“Is that what’s got you down?”
I’m not surprised he can tell. I’m not bothering to put on an act. Not with him.
“I guess. It’s tough… I guess she was the first person I loved.”
“Ah. First love.” He leans back on the rain-slick metal. “Only happens once in a lifetime.”
“Yeah. I’m grateful for that. Feels like going through the wringer, dealing with the fallout. It hurts.”
“First love can cut deep,” he says.
“Sure can… It’s been a long time, too. Years and years. But every time I see her, it’s like it’s happening all over again. The feeling won’t quit.”
“Did you meet her this summer?”
“No, this was way back. College.”
“Undergrad?” His hand trembles where it rests on his leg. He reaches for it with his other hand, trying to still the shaking motion, or soothe it. I’m not sure.
I watch his hands and try to piece together my timeline with Maddison—and my father’s part in it.
He doesn’t know it, but he changed the course of my life.
“Yeah, undergrad.” There are some things I’ve never talked with my dad about. Visits with him are rarer than I’d like, and neither of us enjoys using the phone all that much.
“Pop, remember how you told me not to fall in love, like you and Mom did?”
He nods, and his chin bobs up and down a few extra times, uncontrollably. “Ah, I did. Wanted to see you through medical school. I thought you could chase the dream, finish the race like I couldn’t.”
“And I did.” I’m aware of the clinic behind us as I analyze the way my life is unfolding. “I have you to thank for that.”
“Or me to blame.”
“No way, Pop. I’m not blaming you for anything.” I gesture behind us. “I love my job.”
“I know you do. And you’re good at it, too. And I’m proud of you, son. Folks in Philly ask me what my boy does, and I tell ’em you’re a doctor…Whew. They respect that. You’re a hero.But I know as well as anyone that a job isn’t what makes a man happy. That’s something only love can do. I thought you’d find it afterward. It sounds like I really botched it up, with you and this first love of yours. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Still, I’m sorry, son. For the bad advice. It happens, as a parent. You share what you know, but your knowledge isn’t perfect. Not complete.”
“Pop, you really don’t have to apologize. I was the one who messed it up.”
There’s silence.
