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"If I get to see you and this will help you, I'm so okay with it. Remember, I love you and you are stronger than you think you are, Calla. So, DeRicci's at, say, 12:30?"
"That sounds great. I'll see you there. Love you too, Mom," I whispered, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped during our conversation. As I hung up the phone, I realized that maybe, just maybe, there was hope for healing after all.
As I got ready for lunch, I realized I was getting a little anxious at the thought of seeing my parents together. All of my memories were explosive and angry. I would just hide in my room when they were together. After dad moved out, I couldn't help but think that he kind of abandoned me. He tried to be a good father, and he was, but I guess I had already decided to close myself up.
"Come on, Calla. It's just lunch with your parents," I muttered to myself as I paced around my apartment. The thought of facing both Mom and Dad together again churned my stomach, but I couldn't deny the importance of taking this step towards healing.
I sighed in frustration, mostly with myself. "It will be interesting if nothing else," I said, grabbing my keys and heading out the door.
The restaurant we'd chosen was a cozy little bistro nestled between tall brick buildings. The midday sun shone brightly overhead, but the many trees cast dappled shadows on the pavement as I approached the entrance. The sight of my parents sitting at a table near the window made my heart race, but I steeled myself and walked inside.
"Calla!" Mom exclaimed, rising from her seat to pull me into a tight embrace. "It's so nice to see you."
"Hi, Mom," I replied, forcing a smile as I met my father's gaze. He stood up and wrapped his arms around me, his familiar scent bringing back a flood of memories, both good and bad.
"Hey, kiddo. It's been a little while. Good to see you," he whispered before releasing me.
"Yeah, hi Dad. You're looking good," I said, taking my seat and scanning the menu. As we ordered our food and engaged in small talk, I couldn't help but notice how different my parents seemed since their divorce. Mom appeared more confident, her shoulders squared and eyes bright; while Dad seemed softer, less rigid than I remembered.
"So, what have you done with the rest of your morning since we spoke?" my mother asked. I'm sure she was trying to start the conversation. For some reason, I felt a little tongue-tied.
"I threw in a load of laundry, vacuumed. You know, all the fun stuff," I laughed. "I now appreciate why you made me do my chores."
"How is Cassie doing?" Mom asked. Just the very fact she asked that showed me that she had gotten over the whole situation, and that made me feel better.
"Oh, she's good. She's busy, goes out with her friends, but we've settled into a nice relationship. I love having her around."
"Well, at least I can say two things I'm responsible for creating have turned out pretty good," Dad said, as he looked over the menu. He glanced above his menu at me and winked. I rolled my eyes, but I guess he was right.
"Oh! How was the pickleball? Who won?"
Dad huffed. "Your mom. She wins all the time. Serves me right for working too hard on my dad-bod in my downtime." He patted his belly for emphasis. I had to admit that they were both aging well, but Mom definitely had the upper hand when it came to fitness.
The waitress came to get our orders, and suddenly we were sitting there just looking at each other.
My mom took the lead again. "So, I thought it might be a good idea to have lunch together so that we," and she indicated her and Dad, "could show Calla that we're okay, even having gone through a divorce."
"What's up, Calla? Did you think we weren't alright?"
I shook my head. "No, I guess we've never really talked about it, but the whole divorce thing really threw me for a loop. I told Mom that I feel unsafe going into relationships. Like maybe they'll all end up like what happened. It wasn't a fun time for me and Mom and I guess I've built up a wall around me and I think it's hurting my relationships. I don't want that."
Dad looked a little guilty, but put his hand over mine. "I want to tell you that I am sorry." He reached across the table and put his hand on Mom's, too. "I'm deeply sorry for what I put you two through. It was selfish, and it was mean. I wasn't thinking about anything other than having fun. I regret the hurt I've caused. Both of you. I can't say I regret it all because that would mean that I regret Cassie, and I don't. But I do owe you both a huge apology for that period of time."
Mom flipped her hand over and gave his hand a squeeze. "Thank you for saying that. It's really water under the bridge now. I've worked through it all, and I'm stronger for it."
"Well, I'm just sorry you had to work through it in the first place." Dad was being really sincere, and it was nice to see him like this.
"I wouldn't be the person I am today without all the experiences I've gone through. So, your behaviour is part of my growth. I have you to thank for who I am today. You and a few other people," she laughed. "But seriously, I'm happy with who I am today and I wouldn't change a thing. Only I might have gotten over it a little faster." I looked at Mom, so amazed at the strength in her words.
I looked over at my dad. "How are things in your life now, Dad?"
He leaned back in his chair. "It's pretty good, Calla, pretty good. I'm mean, I'm not as emotionally mature as your mother, but I likely never will be. I'm dating a nice lady in our complex named Denise. She keeps me on the straight and narrow, but it's nothing serious. I've done enough in my life, created some beautiful kids along the way, and now I'm just living a quiet, rewarding life."
"That sounds good, Dad. I'm happy for you."
"You should come out and join us for pickleball sometime," he added. "Plus, the clubhouse serves a mean roast beef meal on Sunday nights."
We all laughed. This felt good.
