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I sit down opposite my dad. He's already got me a hot chocolate, and his coffee is already half-drunk. He fixes his glasses as I get comfortable.
"Aspen," he greets. It's funny because the first thing I expect him to notice is the engagement ring, or mention my mother, but he stares right into my eyes, father to daughter. "How are you?"
"I'm okay, thank you. How are you?" I reply.
When I was smaller, I'd watch films with him a lot. A few of them had moments in them where the hero would pass out or get hurt and time would almost stop. It's this hold-your-breath, a sit-on-the-edge-of-your-seat moment where you can't breathe – how is the film going to go without the hero? Will it be as good without them? What's going to happen?
And then they get up and fight on. All is well again, and you can breathe and relax.
Except with my dad, it's a constant sit-on-the-edge-of-the-seat moment. I'm hoping I can sit back at some point, but I will never forgive him for standing by at my late husband's funeral and letting Mum speak to me like that. I know I need to get over it, but it's more than that.
"Honestly? Not so good right now, Aspen," he answers. I take a sip of my drink and let him lead the conversation. "Your mother and I... we're not in a good place like I told you."
"How so?" I ask, pretending with all my might to be sympathetic. While I do care about my dad, I'm not surprised it's come to this. My mother is forceful and controlling and hides it all behind her religion.
When people say they see the light, they usually refer to seeing the light of God and Jesus and they become born-again Christians, as they say. But my light leads me to a brand new lightbulb in a lamp called reality.
"It's taken me a long time, Aspen, and I will admit I have not been the best... father or person, but you have been right all along. I still have my faith, but your mother takes it too far. She... she is hysterical, manic... it's cultist, almost. It's taken us losing you for me to see it—"
"Dad, you stood by at my late husband's funeral and let her make a scene. What she said was unforgivable."
"I never said I was right, Aspen. I apologise profusely for that. But your mother and I can't seem to come to a logical conclusion any longer. Everything is an argument; she's fixated on the idea of you and Nicholas—" He stops speaking and takes a sip of his drink.
"She can't get over the fact that I had Gabriel adopted, can she?" I ask. Dad shakes his head, so I carry on. "The funny thing is, she was the one who's always been against terminations, she's the one who told me I was not fit to be a mother. What did she want me to do? Stick the baby in the basket of reeds and put him on a river? Fitting, really."
"Aspen, please—"
"What? Dad, I don't know what you expect me to say to that. I did the right thing for my child."
"Have you met him?"
"Yes."
He wipes his face with his hand, and I notice he's taken his wedding ring off.
Interesting, seeing as divorce is frowned upon in their congregation. It's only seen in the Church of England as a very last resort, but the specific congregation Mum attends? Well, divorce is a sin, a mark against you.
"How is he?" Dad asks.
I sigh and tentatively sip my drink. The sweet chocolate somehow starts tasting bitter on my tongue. "He's doing really well. He's extremely happy."
"Good. I'm pleased," he says.
"Why is your wedding ring off, Dad?" I ask carefully.
He sighs and looks away. Through the lenses of his glasses, I can see tears building up, but he gulps and holds onto himself.
"The problem I face is that divorce is frowned upon in my faith, Aspen. It's only seen as a last resort, but you know what our congregation is like. I believe in God, and I believe in the Bible. I believe that a marriage should be full of love and fighting through hard times. But... what is a marriage without love? I look at you and although you have never really believed, you've managed to do it."
"Dad, are you saying you want to leave Mum?" I question. He just nods. "Dad... what do you want?"
"I want to live the rest of my life free from her... shackles," he answers. "The problem is, I was pressured to marry your mother—"
My eyes widen, and suddenly I recall a few weeks ago when he told me history was repeating itself.
"What?" I ask.
"Your mother and I... she can be very persuasive, which you know. Things happened when we were younger and... well, let's just say it was like Joel and your situation—"
"Dad, are you telling me you had a child before me?" I question.
He shakes his head. "No, we were lucky. But she wanted premarital...relations, and well, I gave in. But our situations aren't so different."
I sit back in my chair. This doesn't actually surprise me; it gives me a lot of answers about my life. He clears his throat and drinks his drink, clearly not wanting to discuss the past any further.
"I know you won't like it... what about separation?" I ask.
"The thing is I believe that divorce is okay if the marriage has really broken down. The church recognises it in the end—if you have gone through other avenues first. But Aspen, it's been twenty-two years. I have been slowly, slowly eaten up by her and her belief. I want to be free."
"She won't agree to it," I point out. "Because she doesn't recognise it. But I read up on it when Joel and I were getting one—she can say no, but it'll go to court, Dad, and if there are sufficient grounds, the court will give it to you. If you've felt bullied for twenty-two years, Dad, they'll give it to you. I'll even stand up and back you up. You shouldn't feel bullied into being miserable for the rest of your life."
"I'm going to talk to Vicar Mary about it, in private," he says.
"I'm pleased," I say with a smile.
"How are you and Nicholas?" he asks.
"We're... he asked me to marry him," I mention and show him the ring.
"You're happy about this? It's not too soon after Joel? You're not put off marriage because of what we did to you and Joel?" Dad asks. A small smile breaks out on his face, regardless of my answer.
"I'm happy about it. We haven't discussed an actual wedding, it only happened two days ago. I... I think I want to have a proper wedding with a dress, and you know—but not in a church. It hasn't put me off marriage because I love Nick. I just want to wait a while, I don't know, maybe a year. You know what he's like, though, he won't wait for long!" I say.
"Then I'm extremely happy for you both." He squeezes my hand and I finish my drink. "I... I have to ask, what about Gabriel?"
"We've decided that we'll tell him who I am when he's old enough, but as he grows up, I'm just Auntie Aspen. He seems to like me," I manage. "So, we're getting to a good place."
"As long as you're all sure about it," he says.
"I'm going to apply to be a nurse as well," I blurt out. "I thought it over, and I'd love to do it."
"That's amazing, Aspen. You would be fabulous as a nurse," he says, beaming with pride that I can see like the star he's starting to be once again.
"Dad, promise me you will leave her, if that is truly what you want," I say.
He smiles at me, grabs my hand, and presses a kiss onto the back of it. "I promise you, Aspen, I will find a way to be happy again. I don't expect you to want to forgive me, but I would love the chance to gain your trust back."
Something about his honesty and emotion is making me weak, wanting to know my father in his own right. It's like his shine is coming back without her. Maybe he's never really been the enemy, and I just haven't seen how shackled he is before.
The thing is, we might all find mates or partners for life, but at the end of it all, every person is one entity. We're all alone on our deathbed, so surely, we deserve to shine like a star in our own right? Our partner should never dull our shine and never make us nervous to be our individual star in the sky. If they do that, it shouldn't matter what faith they believe in, they should be able to regain their shine.
Stars are beautiful in a constellation, but they tell their own story individually as well.
I sigh. "Dad, I don't condone what you did. I kind of... I don't know. I forgave you a while ago because we both know what she's like. I'm over it all. Nick and I discussed our situation afterwards, and for a while, I thought what she said was right. But I'm stronger than that, and I realised she was wrong. Nick's shown me how I'm better than that. I forgive you, and I love you. But I think the trust between us can come through your actions from now. I want to have a relationship with you, but for me, it can't happen with Mum in the picture. I think we both know that, and I think that's why you're here right now, isn't it?"
He nods. "It's you that's shown me that I can have that strength."
"Don't waste the rest of your life on unhappiness, Dad. Choose happiness, always," I say, and I know exactly what I've done. I've echoed Monica's words without even thinking about it. She may have been nearly as toxic as my mum is, but ultimately her words were right.
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"My daisy," Nick greets. He kisses my lips and I feel his body relax against mine. The smell of the hospital mixed with his aftershave is still something I'm trying to get used to after everything that happened with Joel. Somehow, underneath it all, it feels like home.
"How did it go?" he asks.
"It went fine, maybe we'll talk about it later," I suggest. "I think this is more important. Are these flowers okay?" I show him the bouquet of purple flowers I bought for Georgina's grave.
"They're perfect," he says. "Mum, Dad, and Gabriel went yesterday, so I thought it might be a bit easier on you if we went today without them. Plus, it's only over the road."
I smile and notice he's holding a small bouquet of yellow gerberas. I remember reading somewhere that gerberas are big daisies.
"Yellow gerberas?" I question. His hand finds mine and we start walking the short length between the hospital and cemetery.
"Yellow daisies," Nick tells me. He sighs and smiles sadly. "You want to know why I love daisies so much?"
"I mean, yes," I say with a tiny chuckle.
"Georgina's favourite colour was yellow, and her favourite flower was the daisy, just like yours is," he answers.
I say nothing. I always thought I was 'my daisy' because I mentioned they were my favourite flower, but now I know the hidden, deeper meaning behind the connection, and it makes more sense. I always found it a little strange how I mentioned it off the cuff, and he took it into a major meaning. Now I know.
"Every year I get the florist to do me a bunch of yellow gerberas. They stay on her grave for two weeks if we get the right weather," Nick announces. "Then I try to visit every two weeks or so with a bunch of freshly picked you know, normal daisies and put them in a pile on the grave. I'd like to think she'd make them into a daisy chain necklace or something. She used to do that in our garden growing up."
"Nick, that's... so sweet," I whisper.
"I remember once. It was Valentine's Day. Her last one with us. She was upset because she liked this boy who didn't reciprocate, and she didn't get a Valentine's card. So, I gave her some crappy films to watch in her room. While she watched it, I handmade her a little Valentine's card and picked all the damn daisies I could find and made her a flower crown. The crown didn't last long, but she wore it as long as she could."
Tears fly down my cheeks as we come to a standstill.
Georgina Marie Knight. June 3rd, 2001 – October 12th, 2016. Beloved daughter and sister. Gone but never forgotten.
The way Nick lights up when he talks about Georgina is astounding; you can see the pride, the love, and the joy he feels about her. The emotions roll off him like an avalanche and I can't help but feel a surge of love for her myself when he speaks about his sister.
Which is why when I stare at her gravestone, I shed tears at the loss of a life taken too soon.
"When you told me your favourite flower was a daisy... it hit me then that I needed to be with you. Call it creepy because she was my sister, I don't care. Something about you reminds me of her, and it's this feeling of pure joy. Georgina was this bounding, happy force in all our lives. Mum said she was a pixie or something with the way she just brought happiness to everyone. My Dad called her a hippie with her free-spirited nature."
I bow my head and place my purple flowers next to those yellow daisies. A perfect colour combination for a vibrant girl.
"So, when I said to you that you were like an unblossomed flower? It was because beneath all the brainwashing and forced marriage and unhappiness I could see you, Aspen. You remind me of her. Now you're... free, you might not be as free-spirited and hippy as she was," he cries, but he laughs at the mention of her free spirit. "But you're a strong, happy, kind spirit. Some might say I'm fucking weird for wanting to be with a woman who reminds me of my sister, but it's not like that—"
"I don't think like that, Nick."
"It's the joy you ooze, Aspen. It's the way you light up the room you walk into with the smile and the humour you've had locked away all these years. That's what reminds me of her," he says. "You saw me when no one else did because I see you as well. We get each other. For the longest time, I've had this hole in my life and you come bounding in and filled it."
I grab him as a cat dives for its food, and he chokes on the sob he's been wanting to cry out since we started talking.
I want to say so much: tell him how loved he is, how I understand what he means, how much she would be proud of him. I want to tell Nick that he's done the same to me and switched on that light that we've both had turned off for years. It's on the tip of my tongue that for the longest time, we've both been navigating our lives in the dark and now we've found each other, we're walking this lit up road, together.
But I can't find the words.
Sometimes silence says everything you need it to, and as he crumbles to the green of his sister's grave and mourns her, he brings me with him. It's the silence between us that tells him that whenever he needs to fall, I'll be there to catch him because, for six months, he's been doing it for me.
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