screw-up, or that I became a wonderful husband and father? There will be many, many marked seconds on that clock before the truth is known.
"How are you, Judd?" Beverly asks me as she checks on the meat.
"Fine thanks."
"It's good to see you back."
I don't know if that is what she really feels. I've been generally distant with my in-laws as I am with many people. I think it's the religious thing, but maybe they saw something in the old me that was going to hurt Quinn. Hence things were strained and there was no fixing it.
"Thanks." Then I decide to get things out in the open. "I appreciate that you've allowed me back here after what I did to your daughter. I've apologised to her, but I think I should to you as well. I'm sorry that I wasn't the husband that she needed."
"That's not necessary, Judd."
"Maybe. But we all need to move on, and I guess, heal. So, I'm sorry. And I'm becoming a better man and husband. I think, if you give me a chance, you'll like the new me."
Quinn stands there, her eyes wide and flicking between the two of us.
"I think I will, dear," Beverly says. "This is ready. Judd, would you find Frank?"
I find him where I expected him to be. Frank is a tinkerer. This is his place. He keeps his tinkering in his old shed and she keeps her bears in her, well, her bear room. There's an old motorbike in bits in the centre of the shed and Frank is inspecting some part or other on his bench.
Now I'm not a car or bike man. I just need to know they work and get me from one place to another. I know they need gas and oil and water, and I know they need someone who knows what they're doing to fix them when they don't go from one place to another. Frank, knowing this deficiency in me, has always held me in some suspicion.
"Hey," I say.
He looks at me and nods. We can have entire conversations with me making lots of nervous words and him nodding.
"Good to see again, sir." I can't call him Frank and I certainly can't call him dad. That leaves sir, and it suits him. I hold out a hand and he takes it. I know he can't resist a handshake. He squeezes hard, so hard my fingers turn white.
"So, you're back," he rightly observes.
"Yes."
"And you're working things out."
"Trying to."
"Good," he says and lets go of my hand.
"Dinner's ready," I tell him.
His face goes hard. He knows he's going to have to face his daughter and it's going to be difficult.
"She's broken, you know," I tell him.
"Excuse me?"
"She's broken." I sigh. "She knows she's done some horrible things and really hurt the people she loves - and it's broken her heart. But, she needs you. She needs to know that she's still your little girl and you love her. But most of all, she needs her father. I know you're not all that good at it, but she needs you to try. She's carrying your grandchild for god's sake. Can't you get past everything and do that?"
He takes a deep breath, looks at me through his big, bushy brows. "Listen to you," he says with something resembling awe.
I smile ruefully. "You don't go through the things I have without learning a thing of two. And she's learning too." And then a thought hits me. "She's praying for you, you know?"
He raises a brow.
"I know she is," I continue. "She wants to reconnect to you. She wants you to be proud of her, even though she knows it's not possible. That's what she's praying for."
I can see the faintest of tears in his eyes, but I couldn't be sure, because he's walked out and started up to the house, with me behind.
We eat Beverly's roast. I devour my helping and head back for more. Quinn is looking at her father, but he's not looking at her. He's not speaking. He's looking down at his plate. Dinner is over and Beverly stands to take the plates, but I stop her. I take them from the table quickly and stack the dishwasher. Only the three of them remain. When I'm done, I stand in the kitchen with my back up against the bench and watch them. We are enveloped in the silence.
Quinn has tears running down her cheeks but she does not cry, she does not move. Beverly reaches over and takes her hand.
"Dad," Quinn says, "I'm so sorry."
"I know you are," he says quietly.
"I'm sorry I broke your heart. I was so sad, but I couldn't tell you. I didn't want to disappoint you. I know what you believe..."
He sighs. "But I want you to be happy," he says quietly. "And I shouldn't have judged you like that. It was wrong. No matter what you've done, I should have been your father. I suppose, even after all these years, I just don't know how."
She nods, and now she starts to cry. Beverly joins her.
"Are you happy, Quinn?" he asks her.
She nods and reaches out for me. I come and take her hand and she draws me into her arms. "I am, dad. I have a husband who loves me, who forgives me, and the baby I've always wanted."
"Well then, I suppose I can be happy for you."
"But can you forgive me, Dad? Can you?"
He stands and walks to her. I step back, once again an observer, where I need to be. Quinn's father bends down and kisses her forehead and wraps his arms around her.
I sit outside, on the porch, on the top step. Evening has come and the street is lit by lights. Families walk along the sidewalk, walking dogs, talking happily, connecting. I'm a little jealous of their perfect little uncomplicated lives, but then I wouldn't be anywhere else but right here, right now. I want my complicated life. I want my sweet, broken wife. I want my healing marriage.
What I don't want is the loveless lie that I had been living.
"Hey, Judd."
Frank is standing behind me. He groans as he sits on the step with me. He got down but I'm not sure he'll ever get up again.
"Frank," I say. I'm trying it on for size.
"We've never... we've never been friends, have we?"
"Friends?"
"I might be your father-in-law, but I can be your friend. It is possible."
"But not for us."
"I don't know what it is that stops us from being friends."
"I have some ideas," I tell him.
"I wasn't really asking."
"I know."
He sighs. "You are a good man, Judd."
"I'm trying to be."
"I don't know where my little girl would be if you hadn't have forgiven her."
"I don't know either. But she wouldn't be here now if I'd been a better husband to her. You were right about that at least."
"Our actions are our own, son. You can't be responsible for the things she does, even if you're the cause for her sadness. She has to live with that."
I nod slowly. "Maybe that's true, but I'll forgive her anyway."
He looked me in the eyes, something that I rarely found him doing. Perhaps it was a respect thing. "Thank you," he says humbly.
"For what?"
"I didn't know what I was going to do. I didn't know if I could forgive her. She's betrayed everything I believe in, and I couldn't even look at her for that. But if you can, after she hurt you the most, then I suppose I can too. So, thank you."
"You're welcome," I say to him.
"Can you do something for an arrogant, old man?"
"Sure."
"Look after my little girl."
I smile a little. "I haven't been, and I'm sorry for that. But I promise you, I will for as long as I live. It's taken me a long time to realise just how much she means to me. I almost lost her. I won't make that mistake again."
"I hope that's true."
"I do too," I say. I'm hoping for a lot of things.
We drive back into the city. Quinn is quiet. She's replaying what happened at dinner in her mind. I've never heard her call her father 'dad' in that way before. I guess it's the little girl that's broken and needing her father's love and acceptance. Through all of this I've seen another side to her that I hadn't noticed - a vulnerable side, a glimpse of the child within her. I love that little girl and that woman and I
want to keep them safe, protect them. Shelter them. I don't now how I can do that, but I want to all the same. I'm only just learning what it all means.
I wonder why Frank couldn't look at her, speak to her. He's never thought much of me, and I can only imagine what he thought of Wade, so there must be more to it than that. Then I think about the versions we have of ourselves, and how we show different versions to different people. And I think of how those people think of us only in those dimensions. Then we show ourselves to be more and there is an adjustment. What if we don't like that new version? What if that vision flies in the face of our beliefs, or values? What do we do?
And what if we want that version to have never appeared? What if we long for that first version, pure and untainted, to return, knowing that it is gone forever? What do we do then?
We grieve.
We grieve for what has been lost. We grieve for the memories past that remind us. And we grieve for them, because they have changed and that old version has killed the other.
It is a death of sorts.
I find myself tearing up, but I try and wipe away the salty water before Quinn sees me.
"What is it?" she asks me. She sees me.
"Nothing," I say.
"Judd..." She places a hand on my arm. "What is it?"
I sigh. "I was just thinking about loss. About when you lose someone it's like they died."
"I died to you, didn't I?"
I nod slowly. "But the Quinn that died, she wasn't real. She was what I wanted you to be, but you weren't. You were something else."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. You're not just one dimension. You're much more than that. You're much more complicated than that. And I'm enjoying finding out about you, in all your colors, all you flavours."
She smiles. "I'd really like to go to bed with you right now."
"What?
Twenty Four Weeks - Episode 14 - "Twenty Five" (PG) Page 3
