Addie Combo
Page 11
Really romantic. And so right.
My father approaches with my brothers, and I pull away from Quinton long enough to wrap my arms around my father’s shoulders for what feels like the first time in my life. He seems so big in front of me, as he’d always been in my mind; looming, massive, gigantic. And as his big arms wrap around me and begin to squeeze, I can sense the same longing that has been building so long in them; to hold his daughter, to protect her, to love her.
He leans closer to my ear and says, “I’m so sorry, angel, we’re all so sorry -”
“It’s okay, Daddy,” I say, using a word I haven’t used since before my mother’s death. But I use it now, and I’m glad to. And it is okay, it really is.
Finally.
I pull back a bit and reach into my pocketbook, pulling out the photo of me and Mom, still in its little metal frame. The security guard almost wouldn’t let me in with it, but in the end he relented.
Handing it to Daddy, Jesse and Jared peeking over his shoulders to enjoy the little picture, I feel a sense of completeness, of wholeness. My dad looks at the picture; losing himself in memory, fingers gently touching the glass.
Quinton shakes the boys’ hands as my dad gazes into the photo, the five of us coming together to form a new unit, a new bond. It just feels natural, and I know it bodes well for me and for my future with Quinton.
That’s when I feel a chill, and we all look over to see Emily standing nearby, in the aisle. She seems like she wants to say something; her lips quivering in an embarrassed pout, her fingers flexing on her uncertain hands.
Quinton says, “Emily?”
We stand, waiting. And she does too; as if not having known what she’d say, if there is anything to be said. She tried to have me put in jail because of her childish feelings, and I don’t feel so warmly toward her that I’m tripping all over myself to forgive her. I think it’s fair enough that I’m content just to never see her again. And my father and brothers feel even more strongly about it, their snarls and glares surely burning an unseen scar into her conscience.
Quinton is the one with the real history with Emily; he was the one who had to dismantle her today. For this, and for her other pain, Quinton can only offer a somber but sincere, “I’m sorry, Emily.”
Perhaps hoping for some brighter outcome (for her, anyway) Emily must now hover in that dismal empty space between welcome and pity; between being where she doesn’t belong, and being without a place where she does.
She finally cracks under the strain and turns, bursting into a gasp as she runs out the door and to her fate, as far from us as she can get and as quickly as possible.
And that suits me just fine.
My daddy asks me about my plans, our plans. “Wouldn’t think of coming back to Colorado?” he hopefully suggests. “I’d like a ... another chance to be the daddy to you I never was.”
I smile and we hug again, an extra little squeeze telling him,You’ve already begun!
Instead I say, “I own property here in town, needs to be fixed up and rented out. The house in Floridatoo. After that, we’ll see.”
“I’ll help,” Quinton says, “until I find a new firm.” I look at him, surprise clear in my expression. He explains, “Contract law just isn’t for me. I’m thinking something a little more meaningful, civil rights maybe.” I can’t hide my smile, and I don’t want to.
Keep moving forward, I think to myself.
The End