26
Summer
Two mammoth sized wrought iron gates open for us and when we drive down a long winding drive way that numbness I felt before returns and my lungs constrict.
I gaze ahead as a beautiful house comes into view. When Eric parks the car on the drive and we both look around the perfectly manicured grounds.
“We don’t have to stay long,” Eric states.
“Okay, I guess I’ll see how it goes.”
“I’ll just be out here waiting.”
“Thanks. Thanks for coming with me.”
I foolishly thought he’d come inside the house with me, but that’s just me worrying. This part is on me. I have to do the rest by myself. This is my father’s home and I’m a woman now. I need to act like one and get my head together.
“No worries. I’ll see you in a little while,” he adds dipping his head.
“Okay.”
I step out of the car and my shaky legs carry me up the path. There are beautiful flowers here I could have admired if I wasn’t so worked up. My lungs burn with the breath I’m holding on to for dear life and every step I take feels difficult.
I keep my gaze trained on the door ahead of me and focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
When I get up to the door I ring the bell and wait. It swings open and there stands my father, who I haven’t seen in eight years.
As I take in his haggard appearance and the wooden cane he’s resting on I forget my anxiety for a moment and he’s my father again—just older with his wrinkles and graying hair, and dying. He looks like he’s dying and suddenly I feel awful I haven’t seen him in so long.
He looks right at me with what I can only describe as the same trepidation I feel. He stares at me, searching my face as if he’s trying to ascertain if I’m real. I’m surprised when he takes a step forward and reaches out to touch my face.
The touch takes me back and suddenly I’m that little girl again who used to run to him every day and every chance she got.
“Summer,” he says my name with fervency. Hearing his voice stirs memories of happier times.
“Hi Dad,” I reply.
“You really came.”
I nod. “I’m here.”
He leans the cane on the door and pulls me into his arms.
For one moment I allow myself the pleasure of relishing the safety I feel.
I almost feel like the person I used to be. That girl who lived for living and her dreams.
When he pulls away though and releases me I remember to be careful. This greeting is because we haven’t seen each other in years and not because the past has been fixed in any shape or form. The problems we had before still exist. The only difference is time has moved on and all we have is each other.
“Come in.” He motions for me to go inside and I quickly glance over my shoulder at Eric who I didn’t realize was watching over me.
I turn back to my father and walk inside his home.
He takes me to the living room where his art is displayed on the walls. The paintings he’s done are all new. It’s so strange to see new paintings I never knew existed until today. I used to always know what he was working on.
I sit on the sofa and he sits opposite me in the double seat, resting his cane on the side.
“I’m glad you came,” he says.