He wraps his hand behind my head, and I lean against him while Declan rests his reassuring hands on my shoulders. My father’s lips press against the top of my head, the same way Declan often does, and I squeeze my dad’s hands.
How can I finally be with him and at the same time feel so lost? Feel so excluded?
I want to scream out how unfair this is the way a child would, but I hold it inside.
“You won’t be able to tell them about me, will you?”
“No.”
I look back up at him, and with a defeated shrug of my shoulders, I ask, “So what now?”
He presses my hands to his chest, affirming, “You are my daughter. Nothing will ever change that. You are the beat of my heart. It’s always been you.”
Lifting up on my knees, I sling my arms around his neck and latch on to him as he holds me close.
“I love you so much, Dad.”
“I love you too, baby girl,” he responds. “I love you too.”
We embrace each other for as long as it takes for me to cry out all the tears my body has to give, and he never loosens his hold on me. He remains constant, never attempting to pull away from me, all the while repeating how much he loves me, how much he’s missed me, and how much he’s dreamt about me.
And when nothing else remains except swollen eyes and stinging cheeks, I let go of his neck.
“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asks.
“I’m scared to let you go,” I tell him. “What if you don’t come back?”
“I’ll come back. I put my life on that promise, okay?”
“Okay,” I respond, but the fear remains. Terrified that this could possibly be the last time I see him, I grab him and kiss his cheek.
I know all too well how much life can change in an instant.
“I’ll be here at nine a.m.”
He stands and pulls me up with him, giving me another strong hug. This time, he kisses my forehead and then my cheek and then my forehead again.
“No more tears,” he says as he walks to the door with me tucked under his arm.
“Promise me you’re coming back.”
He lifts my chin, saying, “I promise,” and then plants a kiss on top of my head again.
“Declan,” my dad acknowledges, “take care of her tonight, will you?”
“Every day of my life, sir.”
My father hands me off to Declan, and I trade the warmth of my father for the warmth of my love. I can’t stomach the thought of watching him walk out the door, so I bury my head against Declan’s chest until I hear the click of the door closing.
WHEN YOU MAKE a wish on a star and it delivers, serving its purpose, then what happens? Does it die? Does it go on to serve someone else’s wish? Maybe it rejoices, exploding into a million shimmering, dusting sparkles that flicker down through the stratosphere. It could be that those very particles are what create hope in this world. And maybe that’s why I always carried a little piece of that star with me. As much as I wanted to give up on hope, as much as I thought the notion of it was a crock of shit, a miniscule piece of it always lingered in me.
It’s a rainy morning as I move about, again full of jittery nerves, and get ready to see my dad—my wish upon a star. Declan has ordered up a tray of food, but I’m too wound up to eat. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also scared that he wouldn’t show up. I’m all too familiar with Murphy’s Law. That law has plagued my life continuously, so why wouldn’t it do the same now? Nothing in this world is resistant to change. It can happen in a split second, with no warning at all.
But my mood shifts as soon as I hear the knock on the door.
I look over to Declan, and he wraps up the business call he’s on.
This time, I don’t feel like passing out. Instead, there’s an air of effervescence when I open the door and see my dad standing there with a bouquet of pink daisies. I smile with a wisp of a laugh when he steps inside and closes the door.
“I hope you still like daisies,” he says when he hands them to me, and I’m in his arms the next second, responding, “They’re my favorite.”
Neither of us rushes the embrace. We settle in it and allow ourselves to bask in the comfort we were both robbed of for over twenty years. I inhale, taking in his scent, which reminds me of the past. How is it that I can still remember the way he smelled all those years ago? But I do remember, and it’s the same now as it was then. My eyes fall shut as I revel in the moment, a moment that most would fleet through. Yet, when someone has been so deprived, they understand the importance a single touch can hold.
“I couldn’t sleep at all last night,” he tells me, still holding me in his strong arms, allowing me to decide when to let go, but I’m not ready just yet.
“Me neither.”
After another minute or so, I finally loosen my arms and pull back.
His eyes roam my face for a moment before he finally says, “I just can’t get over how much you’ve grown and how much time has actually passed.”
“Are you saying I look old?” I quip, making him laugh, and it’s such a beautiful sound.
“Old? Are you kidding. Have you seen this gray mop on me?”
I smile big. “You wear silver well.”
“Distinguished?”