Not Another High School Love Story

37. Unsaid

Grace isn't too happy that I made her leave, I know she's worried about what might happen if I'm left alone with my dad, but this is just something I have to do on my own. It's easier said than done though, and I can't think of anything to say, so I'm left staring at his shoes as I wait for him to offer up any explanation for his visit. Thoughts race through my head, urging me to be afraid, and I have to remind myself that he doesn't have any power over me anymore. In total he hasn't been here for more than two minutes, but it already feels like a lifetime, and I start to wonder what the consequence would be if I just go back inside and shut the door.

"Is it okay if I come in?" Dad finally asks, realizing a voluntary offer is off the table. I continue looking at his shoes, begging myself not to let him see how difficult this is for me—how difficult it's been—but he must know. He softens to a point that seems so out of character, almost as if he too is pleading while he holds the proverbial hat in his hands. "Please?"

I shouldn't let him in. I shouldn't want to. None of that seems to matter when I fall into the groove I've lived in for most of my life, and I step away from the door to start back towards the living room. His quiet footsteps confirm that he's followed me, but I still refuse to look at him as I sit down and wait for him to begin again. Suddenly I'm all too aware of the horrible idea this is, yet it's too late now, and he takes the seat closest to me. Why didn't I just send him away?

"Did I ever tell you about the day you were born?" He muses, a million miles away. What a strange question, it's almost enough to disarm me, but I keep my head low. Yet his mind is lost in the past and he hardly seems to notice. "It was a Tuesday, I got the call as soon as your mom made it to the hospital, but it was the middle of rush hour and I barely got there in time. She wasn't in labor too long before you came, and even before I saw you I knew something was wrong. I just remember seeing the doctor's face, and I kept wondering why there wasn't any noise, you know, babies are supposed to cry, but you were so quiet."

The story he recounts is vivid, like he's living it all over again. Maybe he feels it the same now as he did back then, because he pauses briefly.

"You weren't breathing, so they rushed you over to the other side of the room, trying to get you to breathe, and your mom's looking at me, but I can't take my eyes off you." Another pause. "That feeling's worse than death, I've never been more scared than I was right then. Never. You're not a parent, Jonah, you can't imagine fear like that, and I hope you never have to."

"I don't get it." I interject, uttering my first words to him in little more than a whisper. What's he trying to tell me? What does any of this have to do with what's between us?

"I'm trying to say you're the most important thing in my life. Maybe you'll understand one day when you have kids of your own, but you never stop wanting what's best for them. I'm not perfect, I know I make mistakes, but that's all I've ever wanted for you." It takes him a minute to bring his point home, but what he hopes will be a comfort only tears at me more.

"How many times do we have to go through this? You don't get to decide that for me." Now I'm able to speak above a whisper, but just barely before my voice breaks, too weak to argue with him anymore. I've done this with him for long enough, it makes me sick to think I'll have to do it again, and I cover my face. "Is that all you came here for? I don't want your excuses."

"That's not why I'm here, you're not listening." He tries to be patient. "You're right, I'm finally starting to realize I don't know what's best for you, and that scares the hell out of me. This is the first time since you were born that I can't protect you, and I don't want you getting hurt. I heard about the trouble you've been having at school, Jonah, and I know you, you're so stubborn."