“Yeah. For a bit.”
“Your parents are not going to be stuck there forever. I promise.”
“I know. I just worry.”
He smiles at me. “I know. But I won’t let you down.”
“I’ve never been worried about you letting me down.”
We look at each other for what feels like far too long, and then he tilts his head so that he’s looking away and clearing his throat. He’s clearly uncomfortable. I want to apologize, but I don’t really know what I would be apologizing for.
“Do you want some coffee or something?”
“Yeah. Coffee would be great,” I say, then I put my hand in my stomach. “I didn’t realize how much I needed coffee.”
He does a double take. “Wait. Have you eaten today?”
“No. I haven’t.”
“We need to fix that.”
“We do need to fix that,” I say, smiling at him. “But it can wait. My parents being able to get out of their house is more important.”
“True,” he replies. “Just… stay here, okay? I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes?”
“I know. How will you cope?”
“I don’t even have my phone.”
“I’ll get your phone.”
“But what will I do in the meantime?”
“I don’t know. I can give you the TV remote.”
“What about your dad? I could say hello to him,” I say smiling at him.
The conversation has so far been pretty lighthearted, but immediately, his expression darkens. He shakes his head, his lips a straight line. “He’s not here.”
“Where is he?”
Rudy licks his lips.
“At work?” I offer.
“Listen, I’ll be back soon. Don’t move.”
I blink, unsure what I’m supposed to say. “Of course. I appreciate it.”
“I won’t be long.”
“Don’t worry. I have a whole season of reality TV show to binge on. I’ll live.”
He smiles at me, but this time, it doesn’t seem very sincere. He doesn’t really say anything else to me before he leaves the house.
CHAPTER SEVEN
RUDY
I fashion a ramp out of some wood that I find laying around in the back of the house. My father was always handy, and he always kept raw material around, so I know that I’m going to be able to find something to help. It isn’t really going to take me ten minutes to do this. It’s going to take me a little longer. I should have given myself more time. After I put the ramp there, knock on the door, and let Mr. and Mrs. Hart know about it, I drive to Haven.
It’s not far from town. It’s only about five minutes away from our house. My father doesn’t seem to mind dying there, at least. It’s not the same as dying at home, but he has a nice view with beautiful trees and of the lake, and I get to be a very big part of his care team. Half the time, he doesn’t even know where he is. The end is near—very near—and he seems content. It’s not exactly solace, but it is something.
He’s been managing pretty well, all things considered. I was only going home to collect a few things, for him, and every second that passed, I was worried about him. But I know him too. And I knew that if he thought I was letting an opportunity with Jess Hart go he would never forgive me.
His things are in my car, so I just grab them from my trunk before I make my way to his room. I knock on his door, and go in before he says anything.
He is sitting up on the bed, playing a game on his tablet. Probably solitaire, I think. He’s not looking well, but he is alert, and he has enough strength to sit up, and it is more than a small blessing. Especially when I really, really want to talk to him right now. About something important.
“Daddy,” I say. “Sorry I took so long.”
He smirks at me. “You were gone?”
I shake my head. “Stop,” I say. “You’re going to make me feel like you don’t even care that I’m here.”
“I don’t,” he says. “You’re ruining my peace and quiet.”
I laugh and sit on the edge of the bed. “Here you go,” I say. “The album you asked for. And grandmomma’s recipe notebook.”
He smiles at me, putting the tablet down on the bed, next to him, and opening the notebook, running his fingertips over the ink words. “I thought I’d lost this.”
“Nah,” I say. “I mean, it was in mom’s things, but you hadn’t lost it. I just had to search for a bit.”
His body tenses a bit. “I am sorry,” he says and his voice quivers. My heart drops to my stomach. I have never, ever seen my father cry, and I don’t know if it’s cowardly of me, but I don’t want this to be one of those firsts we keep running into. Still, it’s not my call. If he has to cry, then I have to let him cry. That really is the only option.
“There’s no reason for you to be sorry,” I say.
“That’s not true,” he replies, meeting my gaze.
We stare at each other for a bit. “Dad, seriously--”
“I thought I would be around longer. If not me, I thought that your mother might be.”
I shake my head. “Life happens. You’re not letting me down by being sick, I want you to realize that.”
“I know that. But I worry about you. When I die, you’re going to be all alone.”
“I’m going to be more alone than I am now. But not all alone.”
“I just thought…” He trails off, not saying anything.
I don’t have to read his mind to know what he’s going to say. “You thought I would be married, have children by now?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t. But we both know you’re thinking it.”
“You dedicated your life to helping other people. I just want you to also help yourself,” he says, and his voice quivers again. “You are a blessing, and without you, I would be lost. This whole thing is hard, but with you, is bearable. I just can’t help but think about something like this happening to you and you—”
“I’m not going to be alone forever. I’ll find a nice girl, settle down. I promise you.”
He stares at me, his eyes glassy. “Why have you never brought a girl home?”
“I have brought girls home.”
He shakes his head. “Not really. You brought one girl home. If there is something you need to tell me…”
Huh. Who’d have thought it. My dying father, the liberal. “No. There’s nothing like that.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure,” I say. “In fact, that’s what I came here to talk to you about.”
“You met someone?”
I shake my head. “No,” I say. “Not really. More like I ran into someone.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean?”
“Jess. She’s here. I saw her.”
He stares at me. He doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting for me to fill in the blanks.
“She had gone through something. She’s okay, she just fell down some rotted wood. She just needs to rest.”
But did you rescue her?”
“I wouldn’t put it like that,” I say, laughing and shaking my head.
“Doesn’t matter how you would put it, son. What matters is how she would perceive it. So, where your knight in shining armor?”
“I don’t know. I just helped her. Not in exchange for anything, but she is back at our place now.”
“Good. Maybe you can talk to her about how you made the biggest mistake of her life letting her go.”
I scoff. “I don’t think you’re being fair.”
He rolls his eyes. “Listen, kid, if there is one thing I’ve learned in my life, it is that you can’t leave things unsaid.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
He cocks his head, smiles at me. “Why did your run here? After you saw her, why did you tell me if it’s not because you want to be with her?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just wanted y
ou to know.”
“Because you care about her. Because you want her to be part of your life.”
“Maybe. It just felt wrong not to tell.”
“I know it,” he replies. “Are you going to ask Robert for permission?”
“Permission?”
“You know. For her hand.”
I laugh, a little humorlessly. “I don’t even know if we are friends yet. She’s just an ex.”
“And I just have a little cold,” he replies.
It shouldn’t be funny, but it is.
“I don’t even know if she’s interested in, I don’t know, pursuing anything with me or anything.”
“Yes,” he replies. “That does seem like something you’d want to find out.”
I shake my head. “I can’t,” I say. “I’m staying here. With you.”
“No,” he says. “Jess Hart is here, and you need to keep proving you can help her.”
I stare at him. “But Dad—”
“You need a wife, boy, not a father,” he says.
I stare at him, wide-eyed. “That’s a lot of pressure.”
He flashes me a wide, goofy grin. “You’ll get over it,” he says. “Now go. I’m very tired and I have a few things to sort through.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
JESS
I fall asleep while watching a baking show, and it’s only when Rudy opens the door and comes in that I wake up and look around. It takes me a few seconds to realize where I am, looking around. It only sinks in when I see a photo of Rudy, when he graduated, on the mantelpiece. He’s wearing a blue robe, looking up at the sky, and there’s a shadow of a beard on his face. He’s more like I remember him, with slightly shorter hair, and his expression doesn’t look quite as hardened.
It’s something I only notice when I’m looking at his photo and make a direct comparison. He used to be a lot happier, even after me. But of course he was. He was the one that broke up with me, so it makes sense that he was happy afterwards. But something happened, and he isn’t really talking about it. I don’t know if I should ask, or if he’s going to tell me, but I don’t know how long I’ll be here, and I know that it’s not exactly my right to ask.
“Hey,” he says as he comes into the living room with a brown bag and a cup holder with two large cups of coffee. “I brought brunch. I hope you still take a latte with caramel.”
I smile at him. “Not often. I don’t have that kind of metabolism anymore.”
He rolls his eyes. “You look amazing,” he says, and then immediately shuts his mouth and his cheeks redden. He puts the bag down on the coffee table in front of me. “You must be hungry.”
“Did you let my parents out?”
“I did,” he replies. “I didn’t repair anything, but I put a plank in place so that they can get in and out.”
“I’m sure they were very grateful.”
He smiles at me. “They were. I told them to be careful anyway. You know, just in case.”
“They’re not going to listen to you.”
“I never expected them to. As long as they can get in and out.”
I look at him. “I could’ve gone back home,” I say. “I don’t want to impose.”
“You’re not imposing,” he replies. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had brunch with anyone.”
“Not into brunch culture?”
“What can I say? I don’t like waiting in line,” he replies. He opens the boxes and the smell of sweet syrup hits my nose, which makes my stomach grumble almost instantly.
He looks at me and smirks. “You were hungry.”
“I am,” I reply. “I guess more than I thought.”
He hands me the plastic cutlery. “Dig in,” he says. “And don’t forget your coffee.”
I grab the coffee and take a sip of it before I look up at him again. “I can’t thank you enough,” I say. “For everything you’ve done.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” he replies. “I just did what any decent person would’ve done.”
I shake my head. “But you’re not any decent person,” I reply. “You’re a doctor, and...”
He waits.
“Nothing,” I say.
“No, tell me,” he replies. “Now I want to know.”
“You know. We have a history,” I reply as I begin to dig into my food. “I just, I don’t know. I didn’t expect to run into you.”
“Why?”
“Because. I’ve been coming back, and I never have.”
“I know,” he replies. “But I haven’t been here either.”
I take another sip of my coffee and look him up and down. “Can I tell you something?”
“Sure,” he says.
“I was surprised when you told me you were a doctor because nobody talks to me about you,” I say, more to myself than to him. It feels like a confession, but it doesn’t matter. This is the right place to confess, the right time. I don’t know when else I would be able to tell him this, if I will ever be able to talk to him like this again.
He cocks his head, but he doesn’t say anything as I continue talking.
“I mean,” I say. “I know everything about everyone else, but no one talks about you specifically.”
“Why?”
I laugh, shaking my head and biting my lower lip. “I don’t know,” I say.
“That’s a lie,” he replies. “I don’t need to know the truth, I just want to know why you’re lying.”
I look away from him. When I speak, I’m a little more choked up than I want to be. “I’m not lying, exactly,” I say. “No one has come out and said it, but it just... I don’t know. I guess no one wanted to remind me of you, because you broke my heart and everything.”
He practically winces at that. “I broke your heart,” he echoes.
I open my mouth to answer, but there’s nothing to say to that. I just grab a forkful of food and shove it in my mouth so that I don’t have to answer him. I don’t know what I can possibly say. When I look up at him again, he looks furious.
I instantly feel a little annoyed, too. I guess I shouldn’t have brought it up, but there was a part of me that wanted him to know. That needed him to know.
“I broke your heart,” he says again.
I put my fork down. “Yes,” I say. “You did break my heart.”
“Explain,” he says. He hasn’t touched his food, and he is staring at me, his eyes ablaze.
“Okay. I will,” I reply, biting my lower lip. I’m furious, too, and my heart is beating hard and fast in my chest. I never thought I’d have the opportunity to hash this out, but now that it has presented itself, I’m not going to let it go to waste. I may be naive, but I’m not an idiot. “You broke up with me. Out of nowhere. We were fine.”
He shakes his head, then scoffs. “Is that what you tell yourself?”
“Don’t,” I say. “That’s exactly what you did. Don’t pretend that it isn’t.”
“It isn’t what I did, Jess,” he replies, his eyes wide. “Not at all.”
“Then explain it to me,” I say. “Because I can’t understand it. I don’t get it at all.”
“You don’t get it?”
“No,” I say. “I don’t get it!”
“Fine,” he replies, slamming his portable coffee cup down on the glass coffee table. “I’ll tell you. Because you’ve always wanted to know the truth, right?”
“Yes,” I say, anger bubbling inside of me. “Of course I want to know the truth!”
“You were going to leave. I knew you wanted to leave, so I gave you an out.”
I stare at him. “What?”
“Jess, what kind of life would you have had here? You were always the smartest, most driven person I knew. When we graduated, it was clear to me that you didn’t want to be here. The only thing that was keeping you here with me,” he says, his voice so quiet I have to strain to hear him. “You were barely talking to me. I could tell I was losing you. And I just did what I thought I had to do.”
&nbs
p; I swallow. My ears are ringing. I feel like I’m about to cry, but I don’t want to. Not in front of him. “Shouldn’t I have had a choice? You should’ve talked to me about it. You can’t just make unilateral decisions like that.”
“Why not? Why couldn’t I make that decision? You had already made a decision for us.”
I shake my head, and when I close my eyes, fat warm tears slide down my cheeks. “No. You don’t know that. Is that what you tell yourself?”
“You were always too good for this place.”
“So were you, Rudy!” I reply, my voice screechy, pained. "You have no idea what I was going to say.”
“I can make an educated guess. I know who you are.”
“That’s not true. You don’t know shit.”
He nods. He sighs before he speaks. “I think you’re right. I don’t know you anymore. But back then, I did. And you can’t tell me that you didn’t want to get out, because I know that you did. You told me so many times, how you are going to make big, how you were going to do amazing when you grew up. The thing is, you did. You did amazing. You are amazing. But you couldn’t have been that if you had been stuck here, with me. Let’s make that very clear. Even as a kid, as a selfish, dumb, stupid kid, I knew I had to let you go, Jess.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head vigorously. I can’t seem to stop crying, which feels ridiculous. This was so long ago. I shouldn’t feel this devastated to find out about this. The truth is, it has taken me years to get over Rudy. It has taken me so long, but I did it. I got over him. I was ready to move on, even though it took me years and years. I shielded myself by telling myself that he always hated me, that he didn’t want me around, that the reason he broke up with me so ruthlessly was because he didn’t care about me. But I can see in his eyes. I can see the love. And that scares me.
He grabs my hands, threads his fingers in mine. His skin is warm but rougher than I expected. The tips of his fingers are calloused. He’s holding me close, not letting me go, and looking right into my eyes when he speaks. “Yes. We were better without each other. We always were. Without you, I became a doctor. Without me, who became a globetrotting interior designer who everyone looks up to.”
The Perfect Present Page 4
