She catches my elbow as I turn away. “Will you be around for a couple days?”
I shake my head. “My flight is at noon.”
She squeezes gently. “Take care of yourself.”
My dad is tucked away in the back corner, head in his hands, eyes downcast. For a moment, sympathy takes over, and I feel for the man. But then I think about the wife and daughters he left at home, afraid and without answers, and I remember being in that position too many times to count. And anger wins.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Dad’s head snaps up as I stand above him, eyes bloodshot, face tear streaked. Just like that, every bit of anger wavers, ebbing when—for once—I want it to flow. I’ve never been good at holding onto it. It makes me feel sick, miserable, tired. But I need an outlet, and I thought for sure this would be it, because making Jennie my outlet several hours ago sure as fuck wasn’t it.
“Garrett.” He swipes furiously beneath his eyes. “What are you…What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here? You have a family who depends on you to come home, to be present. Instead you’re out all night getting drunk.”
“I’m…no.” His head shakes rapidly, and while his eyes are tired and red rimmed, they don’t have that sluggish, glazed look to them, the one that told me his mood when I was younger, whether I could talk to him, or if I should hide out in my bedroom for the rest of the night.
He reaches under his coat, showing me the neck on a bottle of whiskey, the seal still intact, before he quickly covers it back up. “I didn’t.”
“What about before this? At the bar?”
“I wanted to. Fuck, I wanted to.” He drags his fingers through his hair, tugging. “I ordered it. Whiskey neat. Double. Stared at it for five fucking hours. Wouldn’t let the bartender take it away but couldn’t bring myself to drink it either.” He scrubs a hand over his eyes before choking out his next words. “I’m a fucking failure.”
“No, you’re not,” I argue without thinking.
“I am. Here’s my son, saving my ass like he’s done a hundred times before. Only difference is he’s not a kid anymore. My problems never should have been yours.”
“No, they shouldn’t have,” I agree quietly, sliding in across from him. “But I loved you then, and I love you now. Standing beside you is where I’ll be while you solve your problems.” I touch the back of his hand, and his tentative gaze meets mine. “But I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”
“I don’t know where to start,” he admits.
“From the beginning would be a good spot.”
He nods, silence stretching between us as he looks for his beginning.
“Back in December, right around Christmas, they announced at work that they’d sold the factory. There was talk the new owners were going to lay everybody off, clean house and start fresh. I started looking for another job right away, but they showed up after the holidays and everything was business as usual. We thought we were safe. And then yesterday…” His chest heaves, voice cracking. “Yesterday they came in. Laid everyone off. Everyone. Just walked in, told us all to go home, to not bother coming back.”
He chuckles, a low, exasperated sound. “Three months’ salary. I’ve given them twenty-five years, they lay me off with zero notice, and all I get is three months’ fucking salary. How am I supposed to support my family on that? I can’t, Garrett. I just can’t.”
The reminder is on the tip of my tongue, that I can support them just fine, help out as much as they need. Hell, I’ve been trying to get them to relocate to Vancouver for years. But I know it’s not the solution he’s looking for.
“And you haven’t talked to Mom,” I guess.
Dad shakes his head. “She knew I was worried about it when you came home at Christmas, but then everything seemed fine. I stopped looking for work and we both stopped worrying. Now I…I don’t know how to tell her. There’s nothing for me out there, Garrett. I don’t have a college degree.”
“Because you took a steady job that paid well so you could provide for your girlfriend and your new baby,” I remind him. It’s never been lost on me that my dad gave up on a lot of things to become a father at the age of eighteen. The only thing he did for himself was finish high school. Being thrust into such a heavy role of responsibility at a young age only perpetuated his habits, and I spent many years feeling guilty for being born, telling myself he never would have struggled if they hadn’t had me. Logically, I know my dad’s struggle isn’t my fault, but when you’re a kid who’s responsible for your father more than he is for you, it’s hard to remind yourself of that.
“How am I supposed to send three girls to college? I don’t know how to be the husband my wife deserves, the father the girls deserve, that you deserve.”
I lay my hand on his. “We don’t need you to be anybody other than who you are, Dad. We just need you to show up.”
His gaze falls to our clasped hands, and his callused thumb glides over mine. “I didn’t show up for you.” His words are laced with remorse, but more than that, recognition. He’s not looking for me to convince him he was there; he needs me to know he realizes his faults, the places he went wrong.
“Not for a little while,” I admit. “But maybe sometimes we need to hit rock bottom to gain a new perspective. You put the work in and came back stronger than ever. You became the dad I always wanted, and I’m grateful to know that man, that that’s the man my sisters know. That you struggled, that you still struggle sometimes, it doesn’t make you a failure. It makes you human.”
Tears gather in his eyes and start a slow roll down his cheek. “You and your sisters are the only thing I got right. I’m so proud of you.”
“And I’m proud of you.”
The house is dark when I pull into the driveway, save for the faint glow of the light over the stove, the one I can see from the window above the kitchen sink. Mom leaves it on in case someone wakes in the middle of the night.
My dad’s leg bounces in the passenger seat, gaze trained on the front door as he spins his sobriety chip between his fingers. “What if she leaves me again?”
“I think she’s forgiven you for worse things than being part of a major layoff. Mom has a big heart. She doesn’t give up without a fight.”
The look on his face tells me he knows, but the fear in his eyes says he let her down enough once before, and he can’t live without her a second time.
“If that happens, we’ll work through it together. But you need to believe that your relationship is strong enough to withstand this together.”
Silence fills the car while he holds my gaze, and when he nods, I turn off the engine. Outside the car, he embraces me, a hug I didn’t know I needed.
“Thank you for believing in me. For giving me so many more chances than I ever deserved.”
I hope one day he realizes he’s always been worth every second chance.
Light illuminates the living room the second I step inside, briefly blinding me as my mom leaps from the couch.
Confusion mars her grief-stricken face. “Garrett? What are you doing here?”
I step aside and my dad takes one tentative step forward, then another.
“Lucas,” Mom gasps quietly, clapping a hand to her mouth as tears pool in her eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” he says softly, and I watch as tears slide down both their cheeks before my mom throws herself in his arms.
I steal away down the dark hallway, creeping up the staircase. Every bedroom door is open, every bed empty, except Alexa’s. When the door opens with a creak, I find all three of my sisters snuggled together. Moonlight streaks across their faces from the bay window, illuminating Gabby’s eyelids as they flutter.
She sits up, blinking. “Hello? Who’s there?”
The bedside lamp flicks on, and Alexa scrambles to sitting, rubbing her eyes with her fists. “Garrett?”