Debt Collector's Due

It’s surreal being here at the home that housed so many good memories for me growing up. The two-story, six bedrooms, four bath dwelling with its slate gray shingles, black shutters, and a white fence is opulent inside, but quaint, and homey. Infused with the Island vibe, it lifts my spirit and takes away some of the weariness I’d felt on the flight over. I unpack my bag and set my clothes inside the distressed white shabby chic dresser I’ve had since I was a small girl. The room is done in pale lavender with flower pattern curtains and bedding to match. What my father couldn’t do himself, he spared no expense paying others to accomplish. He hadn’t a clue about little girl things, but the interior designers nailed it.

I miss those days. When he was my hero instead of my enemy or my keeper. I knew what my father did. But it never changed the way I felt about him as a daughter, until that night. A knock comes at my door.

“Baby girl, you ready to come down for dinner?”

I clear my throat. “Yeah, Dad.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

He opens the door, and I see something on his face. I haven’t in a long time, humility.

“I know I wronged you. Nothing I say or do can take that away. But I don’t want to go on like this. With us barely able to stand to be in the room with one another.”

I suck my teeth. How can I just let go of years of resentment? He finally decides to give me a half-ass admission of guilt, and I’m supposed to fall all over myself with gratitude?

“I know it’s not that easy to forgive, and it would take a lot of work to repair the damage I’ve done. But I need to know it’s a possibility.”

I close my eyes and bow my head, biting my tongue. It’d be easy to wound him now. But it would only make me like him if I took advantage of the moment.

“I can try.”

“That’s all I can ask. Life’s too unpredictable to remain at odds.” I tilt my head to the side.

“Dad?”

“Come on. I’m sure Kier is ready to eat us out of house and home.”

My stomach bubbles. There’s more than an attempt at redemption at work here.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” I ask.

?

?That I love you with all my heart. I may not have been the ideal father. I knew jack shit about little girls, and I had an empire to run that made you take a backseat. But it’s a double-edged sword. That same thing allowed you to have all the advantages and privileges few will ever know. I did the best I knew how. I don’t want that to stain the way Kier sees me.”

So this is about his grandson. The legacy child.

“And I don’t want to feel your eyes like daggers on my back.”

“Why now?” I ask, suspicious about his timing and the surprise trip. My father is the king of ‘need to know only and omission.

“Why not now? It should’ve happened sooner.”

We reach the bottom of the stairs, and the conversation comes to a halt. Litter pitchers have big ears.

“Finally, I’m starving, Mom.”

He wrinkles his brow and frowns, looking so much like his father tears well up in my eyes. I force a fake laugh. “Well, we can’t have that. We’re here now, so we can dig into our feast.”

It’s tradition that we order out the first day we arrive from Kitty Murtagh’s, the local Irish Pub. Dad ordered in our favorites, and Ryan went to pick them up. The smell of Bangers and Mash Guinness-battered fish and chips and Shepard’s pie mingle and make my stomach growl loudly.

“Looks like you’re not the only one who’s starving Kier,” Dad teases. Water’s passed around, and we all settle around the oak table in the living room with the television on and Indiana Jones and the Temple of Dome DVD playing for background. Too hungry to converse the silence is broken only by the sound of chewing, swallowing, and sounds of approval. I miss the food every time we leave.

Full, I set down my fork and pat my belly.

“That was excellent, as always, “I say.