Whispered (on hold)

Lovely

Chapter 9

Lovely

Kai Donovan

When I was younger, there was nothing that made me happier that shopping for school supplies. It wasn't school that I was excited for, just getting prepared for something new but somehow the same. In the more recent years, I hadn't really done it. My old supplies would carry over or my dad would just buy the basics on his way home. I was planning on missing this year as well , the stores were always so full during back to school times. School was only two days away. Another year of stress and anxiety, not that I wasn't already used to it. He probably picked some up today. It was like him to wait last time.

I looked at the time as a slight panic hit me. I grabbed my phone and bag and headed downstairs. I heard my dad's car pull up just as I got to the door. Just in time, I thought to myself. I had an appointment with McCain. The summer schedule had been different, less days with longer meetings. I couldn't wait to get back to regular meetings. I hated having to fill the time all on one day, at least on other days, I had the chance to come up with things to say. I got into the car, spotting the bag of school supplies that I'd mentioned before. I went over my planned 'talking' points in my head while my dad drove. We arrived ten minutes early, like usual. My dad waited with me until Ms. McCain was ready.

She opened her office door and my dad got up to leave but stopped when she called.

"Hold on, Mr. Donovan. I was actually hoping that you could sit in today."

I raised a brow. Let him sit in without a warning? I sucked in my cheek, that would be fine, right? My dad looked at me then back at McCain.

"I don't know if that'll help. Is that okay?" He asked.

"I feel we have reached this point, yes. As long as Kai is in, we should be good to go."

I nodded while I mentally removed topics from my list of talking points. My dad perked up a bit but tried to reverse it, hoping no one would noticed it. We went into the office, my dad and I sat in chairs near each and Ms. McCain sat across from us. It was awkward, to say the least.

"Okay, Kai. The point of this is to give you a safe space to say anything you've wanted to say to your dad. Doesn't have to be about anything recent, could be about events from years ago. It doesn't have to anything specific either, could just be a current thought. We can wait until whenever you feel comfortable, if at all." McCain said.

I looked up her and back at my dad, who had been avoiding eye contact with anyone. McCain allowed us to sit there in complete silence. A few minutes passed, then a few more. What exactly had been the purpose of this? If I wanted to say something to my dad, would I want someone else around? Perhaps it would've been better. I didn't plan on doing anything, saying anything. Maybe, I needed this push. Or maybe this push is the last thing I needed. I clicked my teeth to the beat of the song playing in my head, a strange habit that I had picked up this summer. I ran my hand through my hair and cleared my throat making the two of them look up at me. I sunk deeper into the seat.

"Maybe I should come back another day, when he's had more preparation. Maybe that's better, right?" I heard my dad say.

"Let's just give it some time, if you don't mind."

It had been twenty minutes. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, thinking about whether I wanted to do this or not. How long would she really have us sitting here? Seemed like a waste of a session. I wondered how much my dad was paying for this. I groaned softly before grabbing my bag. I pulled out the journal that McCain had been making me bring every meeting. I flipped through it. On the first page, I had made a comment about how she had told me to call her by her first name, Serena, and how I preferred to call her McCain. A few pages down, I stumbled upon an entry that I had made one late night when the nightmares kept me up. I quickly turned the page, searching for the one I wanted. Every year, on my father's birthday, I would write him a letter, even before it all had happened. He'd open it and read it in front of me and my mom before we'd have cake. Even if I hadn't journaled in months, I'd always make an exception on that day. I opened to the page and held the book in my hand for a moment before finding the motivation to hand it to him. He took it hesitantly and looked at the page. I watched his eyes scan it.

"Would you be okay with your father reading it out loud?" McCain asked.

I bit the inside of my cheek and softly said, "Ok."

My dad sat up and cleared his throat twice before he started to read. I had memorized the letters, most of them anyway. I'd reread the previous years before I would write the new one.

"Dear Dad," he cleared his throat again, "Dear Dad, I guess this year it's a little different. The first time that we've been together without mom here, with all that's happened. I'll be honest, I don't know if I'll be able to give you this this year. I don't think I have it in me and for that, I am sorry. I'm sorry for the trouble that I've caused. It seems like all I do when I write to someone else is apologize but it's just easier to apologize than it is to talk about it. I don't want to talk about it so I won't. And I know that you blame yourself more than anyone but for more than what happened to me, for what happened to mom too. Maybe this is what you need for your heart to rest easy. I'm sorry I wasn't here for you when mom died. It must've been horrible to experience that alone. I know that she was trying to stay alive for me, waiting for me to come back and I know that you blame yourself for not finding me before she died. You probably blame yourself for her dying in general. From what I've heard about what happened while I was gone, you missed the signs that she was sick. At least those were the words I heard from her sister as she spoke to her husband in the one spot in the living room where volume carrys to the second floor. But knowing mom, she didn't want you to know. When mom wants something to happen, it'll happen. I guess it was her way of protecting you. I think I'll stop now. Sorry it isn't as long or as cheery as usual. Sorry for apologizing again."

His thumbs ran over the dried tears that were on the page as I blinked repeatedly, trying to dry out my eyes. I heard him sniffle and a fresh tear joined all the dried ones on the page. He wiped his face and sniffled again. He shuffled in his seat and leaned back. It got quiet again as he tried not to cry.

"Thank you," he said softly, not looking at me, not looking at anything, "for saying it, for saying all of it."

I nodded, "It's true."

He shook his head, "It isn't. I'm your father, I should've protected you. She was my wife. I should've known. I should've done something. I should've done better."

"I never blamed you." I heard a sob break out of him.

Never, even when it was all he would tell me, when he'd say that I was only where I was because my father was careless and because my parents didn't love me. I knew it wasn't true because he's my dad and he trade his life to go back in time and stop everything from happening. There were tears rolling down my face at this point.

We sat quietly, on opposite sides of the couch, the occasional sniffle and wipe of the face to remove the singular tears that kept escaping. Maybe McCain did know what she was doing.

~~~~~~~~~~~

I Will Be Going Back To My Hamilton Titles But This Song Fit So Well That I Had To Use It.

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