Remember When 3: The Finale (Remember Trilogy #3)

“Well, that certainly sucks.”


She snorted at that, but added, “I’m really sorry things got so crazy out there. But this is big girl stuff right now. You two aren’t those same teenagers anymore. This is what it’s like to be in a real, adult relationship. You think there’re days I don’t want to kill Pick? Because I do. But we find a way to make it work. I know your problems are different, but it’s all just the same, stupid relationship garbage. We’ve all got our crap to sort out. If you guys are meant to be, you’ll just have to figure a way to sort yours.”

If.

I was getting pretty sick of if when it came to Trip.





*





Part Three of my disastrous day commenced once my father got home from work.

I had to tell him about my little run-in with his ex-wife.

He gave me a gargantuan hug the second he came through the door as if it had been years since we’d seen each other instead of only a month. I asked about Sylvia, he asked about my flight. Before he could inquire about my time out west, I diverted him with questions about his work.

That always distracted him.

We chatted about his day, talked about his new clients. He finally settled himself down at the kitchen table, where I joined him, eyeing him warily.

Dad eyed me back. He knew something was up. “Okay, Loo. Out with it.”

I took a deep breath and said, “I wanted to talk to you about Kate.”

He looked at me questioningly, but didn’t say anything. Finally, I just spilled the news. “I saw her today, you know. She’s a nurse at Beth Israel Hospital.”

I expected my big revelation to shock him. But instead, he simply responded, “Yeah, I’d heard that’s where she might be.”

It turned out I was the one who was shocked. “You knew?”

“Not at first, no.” He paused at that, trying to find the words. The ones he came up with weren’t the ones I was expecting. “I want to apologize, Loo. I always felt like I should have tried harder to find her, should have been able to figure out what she needed from me in order to keep her here. Bruce was too young to even remember much about her, but you were the one that put her on such a pedestal. Do you even remember any of the bad times?”

Bad times? Before she left?

“What do you mean?”

“The Episodes, as your aunt Eleanor and I used to refer to them. The singing out on the front lawn in the middle of the night when she was happy. The days she’d spend in bed, reading the encyclopedia when she was depressed. The baking jags. The shopping trips. The way she couldn’t go to sleep until she double-checked that everything in the pantry was alphabetized.” He gave a shake to his head and let out a sad chuckle at the memories.

“I remember the baking and the singing,” I said. “But I guess I must’ve been oblivious to the rest.”

“I never felt like I did a very good job of being both father and mother to you kids.”

I looked at him in astonishment. “Are you kidding? Dad, you’ve been amazing. Kate couldn’t have done any better.”

“It was hard on you, growing up without her.”

That was a bit of an understatement. But the fact was, it was hard on all of us. Yet somehow, we all survived. “It was. You’re right. But Dad, when I think about how close you and I always were, I wouldn’t trade that for anything. You loved us enough for a million mothers. Bruce and I know that.”

He cracked a small smile and gave me a light fist bump before rapping his knuckles on the table, ending the conversation. I guessed Dad heard everything he needed to hear and didn’t really want a rehash of my entire conversation with his ex-wife. I hadn’t even mentioned that she’d given me her phone number. I didn’t think any of us would ever need it, but I’d stuck it in my pocket anyway. You never know.

It was cleansing, in a way, to see that the encounter didn’t mean too much to him. I was happy that he’d come to the same conclusion as I had after so many years: There was no reason for hate, or remorse, or nostalgia. It was what it was. She was simply a part of our past.

“So,” he started in, smiling, “I haven’t gotten the post-mortem on the rest of your California trip yet. How was it?”

I hadn’t spoken to Dad for more than a few check-ins since the Oscars. Lisa and Pick had invited him, Sylvia, and her parents over to watch the show. They made a ton of food and sat around the TV, trying to catch every glimpse of Trip and me. Lisa said I was giving dirty looks to Joan Rivers.

“Post-mortem. Interesting choice of words,” I answered back, practically scowling at the sudden shift in subject matter. “Everything feels like it’s dying between us.”

“Oh, come on. Surely, you don’t mean that.”

“I do. And don’t call me Shirley.”

He chuckled at that. “You compared every relationship you ever had to Trip. I’m sure that whatever happened between you two can be fixed.”

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