Love and the Silver Lining

by Tammy L. Gray

  I cross my arms, annoyed. “I’m not that bad.”

  She raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say another word before disappearing out the door, Piper right at her heels.

  I drag my feet across the room, wanting nothing more than to crawl right back into bed. I go to the bathroom instead. A huge mistake. The mirror is as honest as my roommate. My hair is ratted, and there are still traces of my blood on the tips. Dark circles mar the underside of my eyes, proof of how little sleep I’ve gotten the past few days.

  I’ve come full circle, with nothing but broken relationships to show for the journey.

  My body suddenly feeling heavy, I ease myself onto the closed toilet lid. Elbows on my knees, face in my hands, I sit and wait for some kind of clarity. But there is none. No answers. No way forward. No promise of something better.

  “Where have you been?” I whisper to the One I haven’t spoken to in what feels like forever. “Why have you left me?”

  I feel a pressing on my chest and a warmth around my body as if He were right here, holding me. Sobs burn in my throat, but I can’t rein them back anymore. The flood comes, deep and heart-wrenching. And I let it. Let out all the tears I’d been holding on to long before Cameron shoved a knife into my chest or Bryson locked me out of his life. These tears fall for the first man I ever loved. The one I can’t seem to find the strength to forgive.

  “Well now, that’s much better,” Zoe says when I emerge from my room forty-five minutes later. I’ve showered, dressed, even added some curl to my hair and a coat of mascara. I haven’t seen my father in months, and as stupid as it sounds, I want him to be proud to look at me. “Where are you going all dressed up?”

  “Actually, a better question is where are we going? I need some backup today.”

  Zoe’s perfectly plucked eyebrows furrow. “My boyfriend just broke up with me. I’m entitled to a day of chocolate and really bad movies.”

  “Maybe, if this were an uncommon occurrence for you. But this is the second breakup since I’ve moved in, and let’s be real here. The only thing you really like about Liam is how he looks.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Zoe sighs and squeezes a pillow to her chest. “But I’m not agreeing to anything until I know what you have in mind. I’ve seen your definition of fun, and it’s not normal.”

  Despite the heaviness of my terrible weekend so far, a smile finds its way to the surface. “It’ll be fun. I promise. My dad is nothing if not entertaining.” I walk to the refrigerator and grab the orange juice. “And worst case, you get a free lunch at a swanky apartment in Dallas.”

  “Will there be cute boys?”

  “No, probably not.” I set down the carton, annoyed. “We’re not going to a bar, Zoe; it’s a family barbecue. Believe it or not, life does exist outside of the male species.”

  “Gee, okay. I was just asking so I knew how to dress.” She pops up from the couch. “Give me an hour.”

  “You have fifteen minutes!” I call down the hallway after her and again find myself wanting to chuckle. And cry. Or maybe do both.

  I grab the leash and take Piper out one more time while I wait on my roommate. The weather is ideal today. Big puffy clouds in the sky, a slight breeze that shockingly doesn’t feel like a blow dryer, and no humidity.

  Piper sniffs along the edge of the grass, searching for that perfect spot. I wait, enjoying the serenity, until my phone buzzes in my pocket.

  Immediately my mind goes to Cameron, and I’m shocked by the devastation I still feel. He hurt me on purpose. He wielded a power only someone that close has, lashing out and attacking every one of my insecurities.

  The phone vibrates again. The second notice that I missed a text. I ease it from my shorts slowly, only to find the text is from my dad, letting me know how thrilled he is I decided to come and what parking lot to use.

  Relief and disappointment hit in equal measure. Cam’s silence puts us at a stalemate. Which also means I somehow hurt him to the same degree he hurt me. Though how, I still can’t understand. Maybe I never will.

  “Alright, chica, I’m ready,” Zoe calls from the top of the stairs.

  I tug on Piper’s leash, and she comes quickly, beating me up the stairs without much effort. I grab my keys and the wallet that mostly stays locked in my truck and try not to talk myself out of today’s adventure.

  “So, if this is a family thing, why isn’t Bryson going?” Zoe asks when we get strapped in.

  I work to keep the surprise out of my tone while my stomach does a somersault that is less than pleasant. “Why would he?”

  “Don’t even try it. I know you two are dating. He’s been eating all my food, and last week at lunch I started calling him the Joker because I couldn’t get him to stop smiling.”

  I start the engine and try to ignore the nagging ache inside. She waits for me to confirm her theory, which I won’t because it doesn’t even matter anymore. I turn around, check the rear for any movement, then carefully back out of the parking lot.

  “Breakups are the worst when you’re around people in love. He’s going to be absolutely impossible to deal with now.” Her sigh is dramatic when she continues, obviously missing the fact that my silence means I have no interest in discussing this topic. “But I suppose his happiness is justified. He’s had a thing for you since forever, even after you dissed him at homecoming.”

  Okay, that I can’t ignore. “I didn’t dis him at homecoming. Bryson didn’t even go to our school.”

  “Duh. Which is why he had Mason put the rose in your locker for him. And let me tell you, that note was no easy undertaking either. He made me write it because his handwriting sucked so bad, and then he rejected my first four attempts.”

  “How do you even remember this? You were, what, ten or eleven?”

  She shrugs. “It was right before Dad kicked him out. I remember everything from that time period.”

  I shift in my seat, my neck going tight. I don’t want to think about that night or any of the other things Bryson confided in me over the last month. “I never got any rose, or a note, so I think you misunderstood.”

  “Trust me, I was a preteen. Bryson’s love life was the only interesting thing going on.” She kicks off her sandals and crosses her legs in the seat. “The rose was for you. And Mason put it in your locker. I read the text confirming it.”

  “Well, I never got it.” I don’t know why my words come out with such a bite, or why my skin suddenly feels itchy and uncomfortable. Maybe because Alison and Cameron were the only other people who knew my locker combination and neither of them ever said a word.

  “Too bad. He had the whole thing planned out. Dinner, a rented limo, a rose cors—”

  “We broke up, okay?” The truck’s cab falls silent, and I squeeze the steering wheel. “So you can stop with whatever romantic notions you have going on in your head.”

  “You broke up?” The horror in her tone slices me. “Why?”

  “A disagreement.” My stomach rolls, and I wish I hadn’t drunk the orange juice after all. It sits on the edge of my throat and makes my eyes burn. “One we couldn’t get past.”

  She turns her head to look at me, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen judgment in her eyes. “And you lecture me on my relationship turnaround time?”

  I click on the radio. I’m glad Zoe agreed to come along, but that doesn’t mean we need to talk on the drive there.

  thirty-one

  As he usually does, Dad packs out the place with birthday guests. The parking lot was full, so we had to park a block down on the street. Zoe walks closely by me, carrying the card I picked up on the way. It’s one of those generic dad ones, the kind that says happy birthday without saying anything positive about the relationship. Inside, there’s a fifty-dollar Visa card. Another generic gift, and so different from the personalized grilling apron I custom ordered for him last year.

  “You look nervous,” she says, and I lower the fingernail I’ve been chewing on.

 
; “My dad and I haven’t really been on the best of terms lately.”

  To my surprise, her voice turns soft. “Did you use to be close?”

  I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Very.”

  “Well, here’s the thing with dads. No matter how frustrated they get, or how much we disappoint them, we’re still their little girls.” She chuckles as if she knows this from personal experience and hands me the card. “I’m sure everything will work out just fine between the two of you.”

  I study the woman who continually surprises me. “Thanks for coming, Zoe. I really needed you here.”

  “You know me, I’m always up for a party.” She shrugs off the gratitude with a wink that looks so much like her brother’s it takes me two steps to recover. “Which one is your dad?”

  I scan the area in front of us. As usual, he’s standing by the grill, the apron I gave him tied around his waist, a bottle of beer in one hand and tongs in the other. “Right there.” I point, missing him so much it nearly trips me up.

  “Oh my. He’s a silver fox.” She bumps my shoulder with hers. “I thought you said no cute boys.”

  “Gross, Zoe.” I make a vomit motion that has her laughing out loud. It’s a nice sound and much needed, since I do feel like throwing up, though for a completely different reason.

  “I’m kidding. But he is handsome for an old guy. You look a lot like him.”

  “Yeah. People tell me that all the time.” Not just that I look like him, but also that he’s handsome and charming. The life of the party, my dad. Too bad that’s the best thing he’ll be remembered for now. The other stuff—loving husband, respected father, faithful man of God—will never again be part of his legacy.

  He sees me a few seconds later and excitedly puts down the items in his hands. My feet want to plant themselves in the grass, or run away, back to my truck, back to the stupid bathroom where I made the reckless mistake of deciding to come here.

  “Hey, sweetheart!” Fatherly arms wrap around me in a hug that tries way too hard to make up for lost time. “I’m so glad you made it.” He releases his grip, looks me over like he hasn’t seen me in years, and hugs me tight once again.

  I work to get my arms to move, to make them lift and attempt to return the affection.

  He finally lets go, and I don’t miss the sheen in his eyes. “How was the drive?” He looks past me like he’s waiting for someone else. “No Cameron today?”

  I shake my head, emotion stirring in my belly. “Nope. No Cameron.” It takes clearing my throat to make the sickness go away. “Happy birthday.” I awkwardly hand him the card, which he takes much the same way.

  “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

  “I know.” He looks down like he isn’t sure if he should open it now or wait. I help him make the decision. “Dad, this is Zoe. My roommate.”

  Zoe and Dad do what two charmers always do when meeting someone new. They sparkle and laugh and make small talk look easy. When they’re done, Dad puts his arm around my shoulder. “Well, come on. Let’s get you young ladies some food.”

  It’s funny how one’s perspective changes over time. I’ve never noticed how short my dad is before. He’s just always been my dad. But after meeting Michael, and then spending the last month next to Bryson’s six-foot frame, I realize my dad must only be five-foot-eight, and that’s probably generous.

  A crowd stands around the picnic table littered with plates of food, and Zoe stealthily points at the two shirtless guys to her right. They’re young, probably not much older than Zoe is. I study more faces and realize the trend isn’t limited to the boys. This party is much more reminiscent of a college blowout than the usual crowd at my dad’s birthday parties.

  “Where are all your friends?” I ask my dad when I don’t recognize a single person in the crowd.

  His responding smile feels practiced. “They’ll be by. You know these parties are come-and-go.”

  No, actually they’re usually come and stay until Mom kicks everyone out.

  He turns away from my confused stare and gathers two empty platters into his arms. “Go mingle. I just need to get these filled up again and then we’ll catch up.”

  I look for the usual gifts, most of them jokes, but still piled there and wrapped every year. There’s nothing. Only my lone card, which Dad set down on his folding chair. There isn’t even a cake.

  Moreover, the crowd that seemed so huge minutes ago has now dwindled. Some of them moved from the serving table to various picnic spots around the lawn. Others appear to have taken their plates back into the apartment building. A few of the guys throw a Frisbee, more joining them after disposing of their trash. Zoe and I stand and watch as they form into teams, neither of us interested in eating right now.

  “Hey!” The cute one she noticed earlier comes jogging over. “We’re starting a game of ultimate Frisbee.” His eyes fall on my roommate’s long, slender legs and trail up to her eyes. “Wanna join us?”

  “How do you know my dad?” I ask, partly out of curiosity, and partly because I don’t like how he’s looking at Zoe, even if she doesn’t seem to mind at all.

  He shrugs like he doesn’t really. “I think he’s on the first floor by the elevators. That’s where the flyer was, at least.”

  “Flyer?”

  “Yeah. Said free food and beer. We all figured it was an apartment thing, until we came out and saw it was just one old dude. But hey, if he’s buying, I’m drinking. So . . . you two playing?”

  Zoe brightens. “Absolutely. Darcy?”

  I’m still reeling from the flyer comment. “No, go ahead.” They run off together, and it’s only then that I see the real picture before me. The small, gated park is packed, but not with old friends who are here to celebrate another milestone in my father’s life. It’s packed with strangers, here only because they were promised a free lunch. I turn around and watch my dad with new eyes. He’s all alone by the grill, clinging to a past life that no longer exists. I wonder if that’s what Bryson sees when he looks at me. A person oblivious to the fact they’re living in a memory.

  I shove my hands into my pockets and walk back over to the pavilion, suddenly not so angry at the man in my line of sight.

  “You decided not to play?” he asks when I sit on top of the picnic table.

  “Nope. I figured I’d come keep you company for a while.”

  He lifts a rack of ribs onto a massive cutting board and gets to slicing it, the smell so familiar it almost feels like we’ve gone back in time. Dad at the grill. Me eagerly volunteering to be his sous chef.

  I can tell I’m making him nervous. I guess that’s understandable considering how we left things. Him trying to talk to me. Me slamming the car door shut and nearly running over his feet.

  “How have you been?” My question is different from what I might have asked before. Filled with more pity and less accusation.

  “Great. Just great.” Again, he gives me the façade. A layer of lies that can’t possibly be true. Not when his only friend at the party is me, and he basically had to coerce Cameron into convincing me to be here. “Business is booming. We’re even considering opening another office in Austin.”

  Yeah, I guess maybe that would make things “great,” especially when it’s all he has now.

  He glances at me, then back to his chopping task. “But I want to hear about you. Cameron says your trip got canceled. I’m really sorry, sweetheart.”

  “It’s water under the bridge now.” And it is, especially in light of the fact that yesterday I lost my boyfriend and very likely permanently damaged my relationship with my best friend.

  “I’m glad to hear it. We Malones are resilient people.” He finishes his plating task and brings the platter to the now-abandoned picnic table. He actually looks around for something to do. Probably since this talk is as fun as listening to clawing on a chalkboard. After straightening all he can, he returns and sits down next to me. “This is a little weird, isn’t it?” he finally admits
.

  “Yes. It is.” I look down at my fingers and pick at a chipped nail.

  “How’s your, uh . . .” He clears his throat. “How’s your mom doing?”

  “She’s the most resilient of us all, actually.” I’m annoyed he’s asking. Maybe that’s why I give him back brutal honesty. “She met someone. His name is Michael and it’s pretty serious, I think.”

  He presses his lips together, and I know it bothers him even though he says, “Good. I’m happy for her.”

  I shake my head, irritation rising in my throat. “Why did you do it?” He sighs, and I know he wishes I would go back to being that girl who worshiped him and never questioned his decisions. But that girl is gone, and the one she’s become needs answers. “Was it just about the sex?”

  “Darcy.” His voice comes out in shocked indignation. “I will not discuss my personal life with you. It’s wildly inappropriate.”

  “You didn’t mind so much last year when your mistress sat down next to me, hoping to ‘get to know me better.’” His face turns a deep shade of red. Good. He should be ashamed. “Where is she, by the way?”

  “Blair is no longer in the picture. And that’s all I’m going to say on the subject.”

  “Fine. Then at least tell me why you didn’t fight for Mom after the affair was over. Why did you give up?”

  “Darcy . . .” Frustration colors every syllable, and he stands, his movements as agitated as his voice. “There are things you are simply too young to understand.”

  “No. You don’t get to expect me to behave like an adult when it fits your and Mom’s agenda and then turn around and treat me like a child when I dare to ask why.” When he remains quiet and refuses to give me the answer I’m searching for, I look down at my fingers, tears threatening to come as fiercely as they did this morning. “Do you even regret blowing up our family?”

  “Of course I have regrets.” He presses my bowed head to his chest and kisses my hair like he used to when I was a child and scared of the dark. “I regret ignoring the little things until they became too big to handle. I regret that I made the problems worse instead of trying to solve them. I regret how much this has hurt both you and Dexter, even though he pretends like it doesn’t matter. And yes, there are dark moments where I regret every step I took in losing your mom, just as I’m sure there are days she regrets every step she took in doing the same thing.” His hand runs along the back of my hair, soothing me as only a father can. “But those are my regrets and my burdens. They are not yours to carry.” He lifts my head, and the moisture in my eyes blurs his face. “Do you understand that?”