Confessions of Your Friendly Neighborhood Lifeguard

Chapter Twenty Two

I moved to Portland in late July after a falling out with my mother. I didn't leave my house until the last week of August. The first part of August was spent doing crunches and perfecting my tan. I now had the perfect four-pack. I could have spent the rest of my summer that way. Becoming so tan that my skin tone would rival that of the Jersey Shore. Making my four-pack in to an eight-pack. And perhaps even making my workout success in to a best-selling guide, sold in Barnes and Nobles everywhere.

But reality kicked in.

"Rae, we need to talk about this," my dad said as he hovered over me. Blaring work-out music played throughout our basement as I worked, drawing my mind away from anything. I continued to stare forward, doing bicycle kicks on the ground. I didn't want to talk about; I wanted to avoid it for as long as possible. I watched as my father walked over to the stereo and unplugged it, as well as pocketing my ipod. 

"We're talking about this now, Rae. No more hiding from the subject," he ordered. I sat up quickly and gave him a furious look. "You will get nowhere if you bottle these things up. And the way I see it, you can either talk to me or Dr. Klein. And we both know how you feel about Dr. Klein."

"Fine," I replied, rolling my eyes. I threw out a hand to my dad who pulled me off the floor. "Where are we going?"

"Home."

Twenty minutes later we pulled up to our old house, the old Victorian style home with a white picket fence and the tree house, just as I remembered. It seemed like a whole life time ago that we were living inside, a happy family. I stared at it for what must have been an eternity, wondering what my dad's possible motivation could have been bringing us back here. It brought nothing but anger in me. 

He jumped out of the ar and walked through the front gate, into the backyard. I quickly jumped out the car and followed him, as he climbed up the ladder to the tree house. I followed in silence, but still quite nervous about the fact that we were more than likely trespassing. Small details, though. When I reached the house my dad was sitting criss-cross in the middle of the floor, and I echoed. We stared at each other for a few moments, in not-so- great anticipation of what was about to happen.

"For all intensive purposes, what your mother did is unforgiveable," my father stated. I raised an eyebrow, not exactly sure what kind of point he was trying to make, because it certainly didn't sound like that one I thought he wanted to make. 

"But, that being said," he continued, "we must both forgive your mom."

"Well, that's easier said than done," I retorted, crossing my arms. (As of recent I've become an especially sassy and sarcastic rude teenager.) (I mean, not like I wasn't that already before, but now it was even worse.)

" No, Rae, it's not," my dad laughed. "Your mother cheated on me, betrayed me, and then stole you away from me. I lost you for a year." He closed his eyes and chuckled to himself. " But I can't be mad. And you know why?" I shook my head. "Because I love her."

"Well if you love her than why are you divorced?" I questioned. 

"There's a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone," he explained. "And while I may not be in love with your mom anymore, I will always love and care for her. And despite everything she did that hurt me and nearly destroyed me, it hurts me even more to see her upset."

"How exactly does this pertain to me?" I asked, beginging to feel emotional. I had worked very hard to hide these emotions that my father worked so hard to bring out. 

"Your mother and you have the same temper," my dad continued. "The same ability to hold a grudge... but you also share the same ability to love as passionately as you hate. And the same beautiful smile." I blushed as my dad brushed my cheek. "Your mother loves you more than anything in this universe. More than me, more than Brad, and probably both of us combined."

"Dad, I can't take this mush," I whispered, a little smile on my face. "Get to the point."

"Your mom did what she did because she couldn't  lose you. It would have killed her. It is killing her now. You have to forgive her."

"The only reason I should forgive her is because she loves me?" I asked, my face in disgust. 

"And because you love her," my dad nodded. "And that's the only reason you'll ever need."

I sat in my treehouse for a long time, much after my dad left, and much after the sun went down. He had given it to me simply. No psychiatrist mumbo jumbo, no analogies or metaphors... just had given me a simple tool. Love. 

When I finally let my dad back in, it was like breathing. It really was easy, natural, and I was suffering without him. It was more than possible that the same could go for my mom. I knew that deep down inside of me, beneath my anger I missed my mom. Would I still be able to so easily forgive her? I had to try... my dad was right. I couldn't allow this kind of pain to take over her life. It would be hard but I had to try and manage.Making her happy, that is what would matter.

My phone started buzzing as I looked at my watch. 9:35 or 12:35 eastern time. I didn't have to look at the caller ID to know that it was Patrick calling. Since the day I left, he has called me daily at 9:35, on the dot. I never answered, just watched my phone ring over and over and over until it ended. It was strange knowing that Patrick was waiting just on the other end of the line, with the click of just one button... I needed to forget about him thought

I wanted to forgive my mom, and I had every intention to. Things wouldn't be the same though, and that being said, I intended to stay in Oregon permanently. I thought about Patrick every day and I missed him, but I needed to forget him. My summer in Snow Beach was history, and I was done with everything there. Besides, it was probably best for Patrick if he moved on. I was no better than Josie, leaving town and leaving him heart broken.

That next day I started a new leaf with my mom and ended one with Patrick. I changed my phone number and called my mom, accepting her again in to my life. I changed my phone number, and Patrick would never be able to talk to me again.