Playing Cupid

by SC Alban

  “Dammit, that’s not fair, Megan.”

  “Not fair? Really? Oh, I think I know what is and isn’t fair.” Tears crept up to my eyes as a memory of Mom lying in bed, thin and grey, tormented me. I swallowed hard and forced them away as I shifted the conversation to safer territory. “You still haven’t answered my question. Why now? Why tonight? What’s this really all about?”

  Dad shifted in the chair. “Well, it’s just…” He sighed. “I got a call from your counselor, Ms. Chamberlin. She has…concerns. She’s concerned you’re rushing things, that you may be missing out on some milestones. And I know I signed off on all this graduating early business, but we’ve never really talked about what that means. For you, for us.”

  I laughed. “So one phone call from Ms. Chamberlin, and now you’ve figured out you want to be an involved parent?” I shook my head. “It’s too late for that. Sorry. If you haven’t noticed, I’m almost an adult.”

  I knew the verbal venom I was spewing hurt, but I’d held it all in for too long, and there was nothing more holding it back. I was tired of containing it. All the anger and resentment I’d kept at bay came flooding out in a massive rush.

  “Where were you when I needed to be tucked in when I was twelve? Or how about when I started my period? Or needed a bra?” He squirmed in the chair. “How about an easy one? How about back-to-school nights? Where were you then, huh?”

  He sat in silence.

  “Nowhere. You were too busy fixing the Pattersons’…whatever they needed fixing. No, I had to figure out all the homework assignments and friend troubles, when I had friends, and the driver’s license forms and tests and…everything on my own. I would’ve loved to have asked my dad, but I had to Google all that stuff. You know why? Because you couldn’t be bothered with life, yours or mine. You were still holding on to her death.”

  Though the stream of anger lost some of its steam, it was still there, lying low, waiting. I wanted him to hurt as much as I had. I searched for the last ribbons of it as I lashed out one final time.

  “Mom was the lucky one. At least she didn’t have to live with someone she couldn’t bear to be around.”

  Dad grimaced but recovered quickly. Looking at me, he narrowed his eyes.

  “That’s uncalled for,” he scolded. “You know that’s not true. How dare you say such a thing,” he shot back. “I…I did the best I could under the circumstances. Losing your mom…it was…it is something I will never heal from. I will always be hurting. It will never go away. But there was never one day I wished I didn’t have you.” His voice caught in his throat, and he cleared it. When he continued, his words were softer. “I don’t know how to explain it to you in a way that makes sense. It was like…like I’d waited my entire life to meet her, to be with her, my person, and then, before any time had passed, she was just…gone.” He sighed. “And I know you don’t understand what I’m saying—” His voice broke off, and he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. The skin around his eyes was puffy and aged. His face was tired, worn. He appeared much older than his forty-four years.

  I sucked in a breath. “Then tell me. Help me understand.”

  He sat back and his shoulders relaxed. “When I met your mom, I was just a regular guy, a nobody. I was young, full of myself. I’d never thought I’d ever meet anyone who I’d want to spend more than two weeks dating, let alone the rest of my life with”—he laughed to himself—“but then there she was, and I was totally blown away.

  “Obviously, she was beautiful. But there was something else. I can’t explain it. But you know. It was like she glowed.”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “She attracted everything to her, the brightest star on a cloudy night. And for some unknown reason, she was brought into my life. She wanted me.” He sighed. “Never had anyone understood me, respected me, given me support, and loved me the way she did.”

  His voice was soft, almost reverent. I’d never heard him talk about her like this before. I bit my lip and tried to push back the tears creeping up.

  “It was like she was made just for me. And I tried with all my soul to be that same person to her. I promised to love her, take care of her. I made that promise at our wedding. I gave her my most solemn vow to never give up on her. Ever.”

  His voice quieted, his eyes glassy from emotion.

  “But I couldn’t protect her, Megan. I couldn’t do it. I tried and I tried and I tried, and no matter what I did, what clinical trials I found, nothing worked.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “There was nothing stronger than the cancer. Out of everything we tried, all the tough treatments, it was tougher. And eventually, she gave up. She said it was because she was tired. Tired physically, tired emotionally. Tired of watching what it did to us and knowing that as time went on, the chances of any treatment working became smaller and smaller. But I knew that wasn’t the only reason. Your mom, she was a fighter. And I’ve always feared that I didn’t give her the hope she needed to keep fighting, to—”

  He inhaled sharply, his voice cracking under the weight of his words. Tears silently fell down his cheeks. A knot formed in my throat. I swallowed as hard as I could to push it down. It was futile. The large lump stuck and choked me.

  “When she passed, I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t. But this here…you…you’re still my daughter. I…” His voice broke. “Megan, look, I know after your mother died, I just fell away. I see that now. My heart broke, my life shattered, and I let it. Everything I thought I had that was mine was just on loan—it wasn’t mine to keep like I thought. I was lost. I felt lied to. I felt useless, worthless. I had nothing left.”

  “But you had me. I was still there. Why did you ignore me, Dad? Why?” I cried, tears streaming down my cheeks.

  He closed his eyes, his lip quivering.

  “I know what I did—pushing you away—was wrong. Even when I was doing it, I knew I should change, move on, do better for you. But I couldn’t trust myself. Not with the love I thought you deserved. I was scared.”

  He placed his hand over his heart and rubbed it, as if trying to wipe away the pain. The same way I’d done hundreds of times before.

  “I loved her so completely and had been hurt so entirely, I couldn’t even imagine I was still capable of loving anyone the way they should be loved afterwards. So many nights, I told myself the next day would be different; I’d be the dad you deserved. I told myself over and over and over. It’s what your mother would have wanted, for us to hold onto each other, to find our strength together. But when I’d wake up, I’d look over at her pillow, empty and untouched, and I’d remember how I failed her. I just couldn’t…”

  He choked on a sob.

  “And now, you’re grown up. You’re grown and ready to move on, from school, from me, and I’ve missed it. I missed it all. I missed my chance at being the dad, being the person your mother believed me to be, and I’ll never be able to fix that. I can never go back. Ever. I’m so sorry.”

  He covered his face with his hands and sobbed. I stared silently as a tear escaped from between his fingers. The sight of his raw emotion touched a part of me I hadn’t connected with in years. It unfurled like a lotus blossom and stretched its petals far, reaching out to the darkest parts of my soul. Quiet tears flowed down my cheeks, but they weren’t for me; they were for him. I was completely open, vulnerable. I brought my arms across my body and held tight trying to hold it all together, though I knew it was futile.

  For the past six years, I’d lived with the ghost of the man who was supposed to be my father. The man who was supposed to be my protector, my champion, the one person who would take care of me no matter what, especially through the grief of losing the one person we both shared. The one person we loved more than anything.

  But he hadn’t.

  He hadn’t been any of those things, and I’d been alone. I’d had to rely on myself. Forced to grow up independently, amid shadows and memories. And because of it, I’d closed myself off from
love. From friendship. From any sort of real human connection at all.

  My hands trembled in my lap as he cried, a shard of the person I knew. There was no place for my anger. No place for fear. There was nothing more for me to be angry about. There was nothing left to fear.

  My heart ached for the love it had so missed during my teenage years, simultaneously expanding and contracting in my rib cage. How could we have gone on for so long living like this? How could we not have tried another way to get over the hurdle?

  No more. I couldn’t do it any longer. I walked over to the chair where he sat and stood in front of him, longing to reach out, to hug him, but felt too awkward. How does one repair the damage an unprotected heart has sustained?

  I wished Amadeo were here. Surely a cupid could guide me on matters of the heart. What would he say about this moment? And then, it hit me. Hadn’t he said humans were continuously allowing their brains to mess this sort of thing up? A rush of emotion swam in my veins as I finally understood what Amadeo had meant. I didn’t need to tell my heart what to do, I needed to listen to my heart to tell me.

  “Dad—” My voice was small, a fraction of what it had been just moments ago. “I can’t even begin to imagine what Mom’s death has done to you, because I only know what it’s done to me.” I inhaled deeply. “It destroyed me.”

  Keep going. Don’t stop now.

  “There are so many things I wish I could say to her, so many things I want her to know about me. And…and I know I was angry with you. I did blame you, in a way, but…I was also angry with her. I still am.” I choked on my words and paused to catch my breath. “But we can’t keep on like this. Something’s got to change. I don’t know you anymore and…I miss that. I know who you used to be, but I don’t know who you are now. And you don’t know me.”

  I reached out, my fingers trembling, and took his hand.

  “I…I forgive you. I mean, I’m still hurt. And I don’t know when that’ll go away, but I forgive you. You haven’t been the only one to make mistakes. I’ve made them, too. I guess I’m just wondering”—I paused and bit my lip—“can you forgive me, too?” I stared into his eyes, searching for the father I so desperately needed. Would I find him beneath the layers of time that had hardened us both over the years?

  The words fell out of my mouth, awkward and unpracticed, but they felt right. It was the first time in a long time I’d let my heart lead the way, and as terrifying as it was, I knew it was right. My chest warmed, and for the first time in nearly six years, the spark of love for my father flickered brightly despite it being unused for so long. I held my breath and waited.

  He sat there for a moment with his eyes closed. After what dragged on for an eternity, he opened them and searched my face. My heart pounded in my chest and thrummed in my ears. What would he see in me? Would he see how scared I really was?

  His lids were red from salty tears, and he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped them. It was just a second longer before he pulled me in and wrapped me in a tight embrace, my arms pinned to my sides as he held me close.

  The air pressed from my lungs. My mother hadn’t been the only person he grieved the loss of. He’d missed me, too. I felt it in the squeeze of his arms. A cry escaped my lips as I let him hold me, and for the first time since I was eleven, I felt safe. I had my dad back, or at least a part of him, but hey, I was willing to take any part I could get. My heart stretched and love hugged my insides with its soft, warm tendrils. A few bricks crumbled off the wall.

  “You have no reason to ask for my forgiveness,” he said. “It was my responsibility. I’m the parent. It was my job to keep you safe. I’ve failed your mother. I’ve failed myself. But most of all, I’ve failed you. I know I can’t live in the past, and I certainly can’t change what I’ve done. I only hope to be the dad you deserve from now on.”

  He let me go and I stepped back. I stumbled and sat on the pile of clothes on my bed. We sat together in my room for a while, neither one of us moving except to wipe our eyes. I didn’t know what to do next, and I was pretty sure he didn’t, either. We were in uncharted territory, altered in a way we could never return from and unsure of how to move forward.

  After six years of mourning Mom separately, of becoming strangers, we would have to start over, to learn about each other again. It wouldn’t be easy. There was still too much to say; too much had been missed. A long road lay ahead of us. But that was okay, because it was a start. And I was willing to give it a chance if it meant I could have him back, because the honest truth was, I had missed it so very much.

  “Dad,” I said after a few more minutes passed. “What exactly did Ms. Chamberlin say?”

  He smiled gently.

  “She said I should be proud of what you’ve accomplished during your high school career. She also said she would hate to witness such a talented, smart young woman fly through life without stopping to appreciate what she would be missing, without taking time to find out what she might enjoy.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Sounds about right. She’s said something similar to me, too.”

  “You’re not afraid you’ll be missing out? Are you sure this is what you want? I mean, you don’t have to jump into college right away. You can take some time off.”

  “No, this is what I want. I’m ready to move on from here. I’m ready to start college, and I haven’t changed my mind about that. I don’t want anything different,” I replied. “High school was not the place for me. I never really belonged there, anyway. I’ll be better off at the JC, and then…well, I don’t know. But I’m not worried about the milestones like prom or anything like that, because honestly, there’s no one to go with, anyway.”

  “Not even your friends?”

  I smiled sadly. He really didn’t know anything about me.

  “What friends?” I asked, adding, “I stopped having friends in eighth grade. It was all too much. Every day, I felt like I was being ripped into two pieces. Who I was and who I was supposed to be, you know? And everyone else’s problems just seemed dumb after Mom, and I wasn’t a good friend, anyway. It was just easier to deal with school when there were no distractions.”

  Unable to meet my gaze, his eyes found solace in a spot on the floor.

  “I’m so ashamed of how things have been. I didn’t want this life for you. I still don’t. I want you to have friends and go on adventures and find that one person who makes you feel like you’re the only one in the world.”

  “Even if it hurts like it does when that person is gone?”

  “Yes,” he said, looking up at me. “Especially if it hurts worse than anything you’ve imagined. I would never, not in a million years, give up the pain I feel every day if it meant I wouldn’t have had all those wonderful and amazing experiences with your mother. Never would I give up the hurt or the grief, because that’s how I know it was real. As far as I know, a person will never be able to truly give love to someone else until they’ve had it unconditionally, and in some cases, lost it.”

  His words settled in my gut.

  “We’ve already lived that part. We’ve felt that pain. We know, better than anyone, how precious it is to let someone fully into your heart. And now you have your whole life ahead of you. Don’t give up on love just because you’ve lost it once, because I wasn’t in the right mind to teach you that love is the most important thing in the world. It’s not something to think; it’s something to feel. It’s the one thing that makes everything worthwhile. It’s all we have.”

  What did he just say? My emotions ran rampant as I sat stunned into silence. I’d heard all this before. Amadeo’s rosy-cheeked face flashed in my head. Huh, maybe the bossy cupid was on to something. Could love be the most important thing in the world? Could it be possible Amadeo was right, that everyone deserved love? That humans needed to listen more to their hearts and not their minds?

  When Dad left me in my room, I sat at my vanity and examined myself in the mirror. If Amadeo had told me my father and I would reco
ncile tonight, I wouldn’t have believed him. In fact, it probably would’ve turned into a very colorful argument.

  A few hours ago, there was no way I believed love, even the love between a parent and child, could survive a six-year dormant period. I’d thought the love for my father would be trapped in indifference for the rest of my life, that we’d never get back what we once had.

  Had it always been there? Would it always be there? What had surprised me the most was how little it took to spark love back to life. Whether wanted or not, it seemed like love would always be waiting in the wings for the right moment, for an open heart, a willing soul.

  I brushed my hair off my face with my fingers and stood. In the bathroom, I began my nightly routine on autopilot. The cold water from the tap felt good on my puffy eyes. There’d been a lot of crying tonight, but the tears had been good. Needed. I smiled, remembering something my mother used to say.

  ‘You can heal anything with saltwater. Doesn’t matter if it’s from the ocean, your sweat, or your tears; saltwater is a great healer. It cleanses us of everything.’

  As always, she was right.

  After the tearfest, I felt tremendously better, as if I’d just been relieved of the enormous weight that had been holding me down. I was certainly not healed, but I was on my way to repairing what had been damaged.

  I cleared my bed of everything but blankets and thought of how I’d left Amadeo in the barn earlier, how upset I’d been when Jay’s name appeared in his book. I cringed. Not my finest moment. Now, I considered the task with a new perspective.

  When I’d seen his name on the list, I’d felt betrayed and had spoken out of anger. I’d been holding on to so much hurt, I couldn’t sort out which feelings were strangling me. But now, things were different. Everything was beginning to change. And what if this was Jay’s only chance to be matched with his true partner? Amadeo did say that arrows were assigned for a reason. Would I be so selfish to deny Jay the opportunity of love simply because we didn’t always get along? Because I’d had a few judgments about him over the years? Because I was angry? Or was there something else? I shook my head. It didn’t matter why. It wasn’t who I was. It wasn’t who I wanted to be. There was no way I’d interfere with his future simply out of anger. He deserved it just as much as anyone else did. And he wasn’t so bad all the time.