Since I've been back in Magnolia Heights, visiting my mother's grave has become a frequent habit of mine.
The following afternoon after I met with Jess, I wind up at the cemetery on the edge of town without even realizing I'd been heading here. I'd climbed into my truck, and this is where the road led me.
It had been hard at first to start visiting Mom's grave. Sitting on the bench across from her tombstone and staring at the granite and realizing that the grave is all I have left of my mom had been a hard pill to swallow. Slowly, conversation began to come naturally to me as I visited this place. Nowadays, I can talk into the silence of the air by Mom's tombstone easily, and if I close my eyes it's as if I'm getting the chance to talk to her again.
That's exactly what I find myself doing now, sitting on the bench as I breathe in the warm spring air, venting as the birds chip in the Magnolia trees up above.
"I had lunch with Jess yesterday," I say, twirling a single daisy in my hand around mindlessly. "You met her the night of my graduation. I bet you'd remember her. Jess is hard to forget. You probably wouldn't recognize her now, though. She cut her hair. And she's blond now. But that is beside the point."
I inhale a collective breath as I try to gather my thoughts, staring down at the flower I hold.
"We talked about Blake. Jess said some things I haven't been able to stop thinking about. She thinks there's a chance for me and Blake to get back together if I'm willing to work for it. Thorne told me the same thing a while back. But part of me can't stop wondering if it's even worth trying."
I hesitate for a moment, lost in thought. "I mean, Blake's moved on by now, Mom. I can see it when I look at her. She's different now. She doesn't need me in the way I need her. She's strong and independent and . . . happy. Is it wrong that it hurts to know that, Mom? To know that she can be happy without me, yet I'm miserable without her?"
I sigh, running a hand through my hair restlessly.
"She's with someone else now. Some med student named Dylan, or something like that. She seems happy with him. Who am I to try and ruin that? To that away from her because I'm selfish would be wrong. Everyone keeps telling me I should try to work things out with her again anyway, but it's like they're not even thinking about Blake. They're just thinking of the past and trying to find ways to get back to it. It's like I'm the only one who realizes that the past is over, and that everything changes for a reason. It kills me to admit that."
My eyes well with tears as I glance at my mother's headstone, reading over the inscribed words I've long since memorized. I shake my head as my vision begins to blur, my heart aching as I stare at all I have left of my mother.
"It's too bad you can't answer me," I manage to choke out, voice cracking. "You'd know exactly what to say. You always did."
Referring to my mother in the past tense breaks my heart. An unshed tear threatens to fall, despite how hard I'm trying to keep myself together.
"I wish you were here," I mutter before I lose it, burying my face in my hands as my tears break free.
"I wish she were here too, son."
The sudden intrusion startles me. I nearly jump as I lift my head and turn around to find my father standing behind me, gazing at me with sad eyes.
I'd been so consumed by grief and thought that I hadn't heard my father approach, though I also hadn't been expecting his presence. Dad must be able to read my shocked expression, as he lamely lifts a bouquet of assorted flowers in his hand in explanation.
"Sorry to sneak up on you," Dad murmurs sheepishly. "I brought flowers."
I discreetly wipe away my tears as Dad makes his way over to me. He takes a moment to read over the words on Mom's gravestone before setting the flowers he brought into the place holder, expression grim. He then takes a seat next to me, both of us sitting in silence as we stare at the written name of the woman we both loved.
"I know you miss her," Dad murmurs after a brief moment, voice hoarse. "I miss her, too."
It's as if I've lost the ability to speak. My throat constricts as fresh tears escape my eyes.
"I owe you an apology, Noah."
I glance over at my father curiously, eyebrows drawn as I try to figure out what he might mean.
"I know it used to confuse you back when you were a kid, how I could say I loved your mother when we fought. Or even after we divorced. Or when I moved away. When your mother called me to ask if you could stay with me for a few months back when you were still in high school, part of me always knew you would take that confusion out on me. I never said anything, because I knew I deserved it."
Dad inhales a ragged breath as he stares over at Mom's grave, visibly torn.
"For the record, I always loved your mother. I mean that. Jo was the kind of woman who walked into a room and commanded it. She was more than capable of taking charge, sort of intimidating, and a natural leader. Yet once you got to know her, it was clear that she was really very soft-hearted and maybe too compassionate for her own good. And damn beautiful too. I think I fell for her from the moment I met her."
Dad exhales before continuing.
"But I think you know more than anyone that people change. Everything changes, especially with circumstance and time. And as the years went on, I became less and less of the man your mother had fallen in love with. She became only a shard of the woman I fell for. Along with losing each other, we lost ourselves, Noah. I think the strength of our love was lost as well."
"I wish I knew what happened to us. We were happy for years. Ecstatic when we had you. You were the glue that held our little family together. But as time went on, things changed. I worked later during the nights. Took business meetings on holidays. I could feel myself becoming more and more distanced from my family, yet it seemed out of my control at the time. Needless to say, my absence didn't go unnoticed to Jo. Even when I wasn't working, I wasn't completely there. My actions led to consequences that I regret now, especially considering how things ended up reflecting on you. Sometimes I wish—" Dad hesitates, voice cracking and heavy with emotion. "Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and change things, just so I could save you from your pain. Pain I know that I caused."
"It wasn't until your mom handed me the divorce papers that I realized I'd messed up in a way that was irreversible. I'd taken what I had for granted. I was too selfish to see what was right in front of me. Because of my lack of being around, Jo ended up winning custody of you in court. At the time, it was no secret that I'd turned to alcohol to help me get through most nights. I was at a low point that I thought I'd never come back from. Because of that abuse, the judge ruled—" Dad's eyes well with tears as he struggles to finish his sentence, conflict and torment registering in his expression as he tries to speak. "The court took away my visitation rights for five years," Dad finally manages to finish.
I try to take in this new information, struggling to wrap my head around the truth. I was only thirteen when my parents divorced. I'd witnessed Dad turn to alcohol before, though I didn't think much of it. There were nights where bottles littered the living room coffee table and Dad would be passed out on the couch, but I'd always written this off in my mind. On the nights when Dad's words would slur and Mom would scream until he left the house, I'd always assumed they were fighting over something small. I'd never fathomed that Dad's problem was that bad. It's like—up util now—I've been living my life like it was an incomplete puzzle. Dad is now handing me the pieces I've been missing. As I put them together, I'm not sure that I like the picture I'm left to look at, but it's a hell of a lot clearer.
"At the drop of a hat, I lost everything," Dad murmurs, a tear trailing down his cheek. "My wife. My house. My job. My son. It was all gone. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't stay, so I took to the road. I drove until I couldn't drive anymore. And I ended up here. Rented a shabby one-bedroom for a few months, spent the money I had saved up on alcohol and different substances, trying to numb the pain the best I could. I was so lost, Noah. When you called, I didn't answer because I didn't know what to say. When the first letter came, I didn't write back because I didn't see a point. Not only did I know I wasn't allowed to see you, but I thought . . ." Dad trails off before choking out, "I thought I wasn't going to be around much longer anyway, so there was no reason to make you think otherwise."
I sit in stunned silence as tears roll down my cheeks. Dad ignores my silence, taking it as a cue to continue with his story.
"I had no motivation to continue with my life. But then the unthinkable happened." Dad's expression is solemn as he stares off into the distance, thinking back on the past. "I'd had a few too many beers mixed with some other substances one night, and I'd mindlessly forgotten to turn off the stove after I'd used it. I feel asleep on the couch, passed out. A fire started. I woke up barely in time, the house so full of smoke I could hardly find the front door. I just remember waking up to the feeling of my throat burning, coughing up a storm. When I saw the flames in the kitchen, I don't know what happened. Instinct kicked in, I guess. I ran to the closest window, broke it with a hammer that was sitting on the counter where I'd left it after trying to nail down a few floorboards, and fled for my life."
Dad turns to look fat me, the emotion in his eyes indecipherable, matching his conflicted expression.
"I didn't begin to value my life until I almost lost it. When I woke up and saw those flames overtaking the house, my entire life flashed before me eyes. And I didn't like a thing I saw. I kept thinking: I'm never going to see my son again. I'm never going to be able to make it up to him as a father. I'll be dead before he's even a man, and all he'll remember of me is that I left and never came back."
"Dad—" I start to speak, only to quickly be cut off by my father.
"You don't have to lie, son," Dad mumbles. "We both know I was a deadbeat. But this is where the story gets better. After the fire, I realized that I needed to clean my life up if I was ever going to get back to you. So I did. I found a job at this auto shop on the outskirts of town. Saved up enough money to afford an apartment, which was better than the dump I'd been living in. I cut down on the beers after ridding my life of substance abuse, finally able to sleep through the night without having to get wasted. Started setting aside money every month to afford the repair shop I own now, which I started after my old boss died and his family discontinued the only shop Magnolia Heights had. Things were finally looking up for me. And then I met Caroline. Just a few months after that, your mother called to tell me that she'd worked everything out in court and that she wanted you to stay with me for a while. I guess you know the rest, huh?" Dad chuckles, though his expression is still sad, as if there's more he wants to say.
I try to wrap my head around all of the information my father has given me. Yet there's still a question he's left unanswered, and I find it right on the tip of my tongue.
Before I can think better of speaking, I hear myself asking, "So why didn't you call, Dad? Once you were better?" I sound like the young boy he left behind all those years ago, asking Mom when Dad was going to come back home.
Gaze falling to his hands, Dad hesitates to respond. His voice is ragged when he mumbles, "I didn't want you to be disappointed in me, Noah."
"I wouldn't have cared if you called me just to say hi and hang up," I admit, ignoring the tear that escapes my eye. "I just wanted to hear form you. I just wanted to know you thought about me even half as often as I thought about you."
"I've thought of you every second of my life. Everything I've done since the night of that fire, I did to find my way back to you. If I'm being honest, I can't give you much of an answer to that question besides the fact that I was embarrassed. I knew I'd let you down in the past. I didn't want to let you down anymore. I know this sounds ridiculous, but part of me thought you were better off without having me in your life. If I didn't interact with you, then you were free of me. I didn't want the darkness in my life to seep into yours. And I'm sorry, Noah. Leaving you for those four years will forever be the biggest regret of my life."
As painful as it is to do so, part of me understands what my father is trying to say. When I'd first started feeling for Blake Rhodes, I'd done the same. I didn't want to get too close to her in fear that the darkness that consumed me would slowly enter her, too. I didn't want to come into her life only to destroy it. I'd wanted to become the kind of man she deserved.
It's hard to realize that my father felt the same way about me.
"With your mother's passing and that void in your life, I know things have been hard for you, Noah. Hell, I know your life has been far from easy since the very beginning. But I want you to know that I'm glad you've found it in your heart to forgive me. I'm honored to finally have the chance to get to know the son I was blessed with so many years ago. And now that Charlotte has been brought into our lives, I get to do the father thing all over again. I'm a better man now because of you, son. You taught me what it really means to be a father. You've grown into a strong, fine young man. The kind of man your mother would be very proud of."
The last sentence gets to me. I've spent the past three years wondering if I'll ever become the kind of man that could face my mother today and have her say those exact words to me. It means a lot to finally hear them.
I lose it. Burying my face in my hands, I cry until my body starts to rack with sobs, as if I'm a little kid all over again. However, Dad doesn't say anything. He merely pulls me into his arms and holds me close. I can feel tears of his own pepper the sleeves of my shirt, letting me know I'm not the only one breaking down after everything that's been shared.
Wrapping my arms around my dad, I find myself thinking that—ironically enough—it's the strongest people who aren't afraid to cry. Glancing over at my mother's headstone, somehow I know that I'm not the only man here that my mother would be proud of in this moment.
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a/n: TAYLOR. SWIFTS. NEW. ALBUM. i love it so much. wow.