Too Keen For Me

Chapter 29: I Miss Him

In silence I looked out my bedroom window the next day, watching as the rain hit the windowpane, making a steady beat that almost lulled me to sleep. It hadn't rained in weeks, but I knew after this rain came, it would bring green and flowers. Rain meant spring, rain meant life, but I didn't feel alive.

There was a knock at the door. My head snapped over to see Tristen standing at the mouth of the room with a smile on his face. "Think fast," he said as he walked into my room and tossed a phone at me.

I fumbled with it, and it ended up falling on my lap with a soft thump. I looked at the junky flip phone, confused. "Are we back in the early 2000s?" I asked as I picked it up, feeling the weight in my hand.

He shrugged as he took a seat on my bed. "It's until we get a new phone for you," he said as he wrapped his arm around me and brought me into him.

I leaned into him as I felt my eyes well up with tears. I couldn't stop thinking about the last moments in the car with Miles. How I messed everything up. "I think I miss him," I said to him finally.

"Miles?"

I nodded.

"Then tell him," he said, as if it was that simple.

But it wasn't that simple. He was off traveling the world for his new album. He was busy, and I wasn't sure if he wanted to be distracted by me. "I don't know."

Tristen shrugged. "Ok then don't complain."

I hit him, not liking his honesty. I wanted him to make me feel good with gentle words and sweet lies. But then again, that wasn't what Tristen was best at.

"Seriously though, don't complain if you plan to do nothing. If you miss him, tell him. Don't live in this world of what ifs. It sounds like you left a lot unsaid."

I let his words sink in, forming a pit in my stomach. He was right, there were a lot of unsaid words between us. I at least wanted to even that out before I moved on. The flip phone in my hands wasn't smart enough to get on my social media page to reach out to him and I couldn't remember his number off the top of my head.

Silence filled the space between us. The way Tristen laced his hands together reminded me of dad. He did the same thing when he thought about things. A lump formed in my throat the more I thought about Dad. We never talked about him, and I was sure it wasn't doing us any good. "Do you miss him? Dad?" I asked Tristen.

He frowned as he looked around the room. "Every day," he said with a sigh.

"Why don't we talk about him more?"

His eyes darkened as his hands curled into fists. "Because it makes me mad. Why did he have to die, you know? He was our father. There was so much we needed to do with him and he vanished, just like that."

"He didn't decide to leave us," I said as I put my hand on his. The way he put it, it was as if it was Dad's choice. He was the best father he could be with the time he had. I didn't want Tristen to linger on the angry thoughts of him leaving us.

He shook his head in anger.

I sighed. I felt like him not too many months ago myself. "Remember when you were super into basketball?"

He nodded in silence.

That was a fun summer. Not just that court, but the road trips, the hikes, being together as a family. "And without hesitation, Dad made you that court for you. He was so eager to give you everything, even if your drive for basketball would fade."

Tristen nodded as he sniffled.

"And remember when I told him I wanted to sing opera?" I asked with a chuckle. "He cringed but sat with me for a solid month of voice lessons, until I finally discovered that I had no talent at singing opera."

"He was good at not pushing us too hard."

I nodded. "No, he was good at letting us figure out life but was always there waiting to catch us if we fell. However, as we grew older, his catches became less and less. It was as if he was setting us up for a time when he wouldn't be around. He prepared us for this."

"I didn't want to be prepared for this."

I gave a cynical chuckle. "I didn't either."

Tristen wiped his eyes. He held onto so much anger for all this time, it caused a sickening feeling to wash over me. I think we all held onto too much anger, frustration, hurt, guilt, but it was time to let that go.

He nodded as he chewed his lip. "I miss him. I'm mad that he left us, left Mom. He should have fought harder, longer, because we all needed him."

I nodded at him. I thought about these things all too many times myself. But I was so tired of feeling upset and hurt. "Believe it or not, but I feel like he's still around, still watching at a distance."

Tristen frowned in silence. His spiky blonde hair hit the sun, turning it more golden. In the sunlight, he looked more like Dad. I supposed there were things that we all had that reminded each other of him. Maybe that was another reason Tristen left for school so early and why mom worked all the time.