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“So you ran away,” Dad said with a twinkle in his eye.
I furrowed my brows. “I don’t run.”
He chuckled. “Yes, you do, honey. We used to have the whole neighborhood searching for you.”
I opened my mouth and was about to tell my dad I hadn’t, but then memories lifted as if a blanket had been pulled back. Like rolling film, I could see myself during my adolescent years, leaving the house with a bag.
When I was young, I left to look for my birth mom. Other times, I’d done something bad, like cutting Mom’s wedding dress to make a princess gown. Or sneaking Harry Meowser, the neighbor’s cat, inside, and he ripped Dad’s favorite chair and Mom’s curtains. When it all went sideways, I was so sure that was the final straw. I’d always pack a bag because I feared they’d reject me and I’d have to go to foster care. But they never did. For some unknown reason, they’d always wanted me. Loved me. Believed in me. It was humbling.A balm to the wound of being abandoned by the woman who birthed me.
My skin flushed, and my chin dipped down. “I’m…I’m sorry for making you and Mom worry.”
Dad reached over and patted my hand. “You were a kid finding your feet. We always knew you’d come back.”
Every time I returned home, Mom rushed up and hugged me tight, and Dad had his apron for me to put on to help make perogies andkolaczkicookies. They showered me with compassion whenever I failed. They barely ever disciplined me because I was always ready to discipline myself.I only ever wanted to make them happy. I wanted to be good enough to keep. But nothing’s changed…I’m still running away.But was I really? Surely leaving Paul meant I was actually standing up for myself.And that was a good thing.
He smiled at me. “You look worried now. That was way in the past. Because I wouldn’t even use all my fingers on one hand to count all the difficult times, while I’d need years to count the good. All kids do something. Hell, once I super-glued my hands together, and another time, I threw a rock at the corner shop window and cracked it.”
“Oh, my God, Dad.” I laughed. That was Dad, though; he never let me dwell on the negative. I wanted to tell him more, but I stopped myself.Dad was too sick for me to add more stress.
While Dad complained about the Packers, I collected my laptop, sent my resume out, and requested a reference from New York Food Express, the cafeteria I worked at before I took Paul’s offer. Though oddly, they didn’t let me serve the two weeks I offered when I gave notice of leaving.
“If letting go of Crane is what you want to do, then that’s your decision. Me and your mom care about your happiness, nothing else. And you never need a reason to come home. In fact, you’ve arrived at an auspicious time.”
I raised my brows. “Oh, you’ve got good news?”
“Yes. I’m waiting for a call from the doctor about the kidney they found for me.”
I jumped up and kissed both of his cheeks. “Oh, Dad. I’m so happy for you.”
“You know, it takesgutsto be anorgan donor.”
I groaned and laughed at his horrible dad joke as he chuckled.
“You’re not getting rid of me yet,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, and I hugged him again.
This is exactly what I needed.
The back door swung open with Mom in her nursing scrubs. Her eyes widened, and she screamed, “Nadia! What are you doing here?!”
I rushed over, wrapped my arms around her waist, and squeezed. She smelled of rose perfume and a faint hint of antiseptic and cigarettes.The hospital was always sterilizing the rooms and the cleaning products clung to her clothes. The cigarettes meant she worked her shift with Mandy.Mom loved to gossip with her outside on her breaks, and even after hypnosis, Mandy still smoked.
“I missed you so much.”
When we parted, Mom clasped my face and turned it from side to side toward the ceiling lights. “Look at our daughter. Wow, can you believe how beautiful she grew up to be?”
I grinned sheepishly. “It’s from the facials, Mom.”
She batted her eyes. “Oh, la-de-da…” But then her brows knitted, and she placed a hand across my forehead. “Hmm, you feel warm. Are you sick?”
I grimaced. “No. I…I was upset.”
She squinted at me. “Humor your old mom and let me take your temperature upstairs.”
Of course, Mom wouldn’t let anything go. Her nursing never stopped at the end of her shift. And it was always easier to go along with her because she’d never drop it.
“You know, I don’t trust stairs. They’re always…up to something,” Dad joked.
“Not that one again,” Mom groaned, and we all laughed.
