I drink the rest of my water and set the glass down. “But seriously…” I hug her “…thank you so much for what you did today.”
She hugs me and kisses my cheek. “I’m here for you. Even though I’m leaving tomorrow, I can be here in a few hours if you need me. Okay? You are always my number one priority.”
“Thank you.” I pull back and smile. “Mom.”
She gathers my hair and pushes it off my shoulders, stroking it a few times like she’s done since I was a little girl.
“Hey.”
Juni glances over my shoulder and I turn.
Bodhi looks past me to my mom.
“Hey.” I immediately go to him, falling into his embrace.
“Everything okay?”
No. Everything is the worst everything could be. “Yeah. Bodhi, I want you to meet my mom, Juni. Mom…” I turn “…this is Bodhi.”
Bodhi holds out his hand, but his body is stiff and awkward. I’m sure he’s thinking that she knows our story and it’s not one a guidance counselor should be proud of. “So nice to finally meet you.”
Juni shakes his hand. “The feeling is mutual.” Her eyes widen a bit as her smile turns into something fun and flirty, a much-needed change of mood after the previous two hours we’ve shared here in the kitchen. “I can see why my daughter is obsessed with you.”
“Oh my god, Mom. I’m not obsessed with him.” She knows how to make me act like a young girl embarrassed over a boy.
This makes Bodhi grin. “Thank you. The obsession is mutual.”
I blush when Bodhi winks at me.
“Are you staying for dinner? I’d love to have you,” he says.
“Oh, no. It’s been …” She glances at me as if she’s not sure I’m going to share this afternoon’s incident with him. “A long afternoon. I’m going to head home, get a little more work done, and maybe order in some food to eat while watching a movie.” Squeezing my arm, she kisses my cheek one more time. “Breakfast in the morning?”
I nod.
“Again, a pleasure meeting you. Give your dad my regards when he wakes up.”
Bodhi nods with a small smile. “Thank you. I will. Nice meeting you.”
She lets herself out, and I fall back into his embrace, releasing a long breath.
“Deep sigh.”
“Yes.” I look up at him.
“And a crease between your eyes.” He rubs his finger above the bridge of my nose. “What’s going on today?”
“I brought my mom by to meet your dad.”
He nods. “And he never woke up?”
Biting my lips together, I shake my head. “When we arrived he was in the kitchen with Etta. She made him his favorite meals, hoping something would sound good to him. He didn’t want to eat anything.”
Bodhi nods again, brow wrinkled.
“He sort of lost it. I didn’t see it happen. We arrived after the damage was done.”
“What do you mean lost it, and what damage?”
“He threw all the dishes of food around the kitchen, breaking most of the dishes.” I step back and point to the wall by the small kitchen table. “The tomato sauce didn’t completely come off. It’s still tinged red.”
Bodhi’s lips part as he blinks several times at the stain on the wall. “Where’s Etta?”
“She was a bit shaken, so my mom had her driver, John, escort Etta to her trailer while we cleaned up your dad and the mess.”
He closes his eyes, rubbing the corners of them with his fingers. “Shit … I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
He grunts a deep exhale of sarcasm. “This was your mom’s first visit to my house. Her first impression of my family.”
“Bodhi…” I grab his face “…your dad has cancer. There’s nothing impressive about cancer. There’s also no judgment. There’s just pain and compassion. That’s it. He’s in so much pain, and all we can do is show him complete compassion.”
Emotion reddens in his eyes. I press my forehead to his. “Make things right with your dad, Bodhi.”
He shakes his head. “He’s a fighter. He’s just forgotten how to do it.”
“Bodhi,” I repeat with more gravity to my voice. “Make. Things. Right. Maybe it’s what he needs to fight this. Maybe it’s not. But you will never regret saying what needs to be said right now.”
“He’ll think it’s permission to die.”
I tighten my hold on his face and kiss him. “It’s his life. He doesn’t need permission to die.”
“Henna.” His voice breaks as he covers my hands with his hands. “He’s my dad. He’s part of me, and I’m part of him. He needs my permission to leave me.”
I press my thumbs just beneath his eyes to wipe away the tears that escape.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Bodhi
I lost my way.
That’s it. There is no other grand explanation for how I got here. And now I don’t even remember where I was going. Maybe that’s the problem. I need to stop going anywhere.
I’m here.
He’s here.
We have now.
Mistakes and dreams distract from reality. My reality is my father wants to die, but I don’t know if it’s for me or for him. I can’t let him die for me.
“Hey.” His greeting lacks oxygen. Every word he speaks feels borrowed. Every blink stolen.
“Hey.” I find a genuine smile for him because he deserves the best of me.
His sluggish gaze lands on the beautiful woman asleep on the sofa with her head in my lap. “She loves you.”
I nod once. “I love her.”
Dad’s shaky hand reaches for the remote to his chair. He raises the back a few inches.
“I love you too,” I say just above a whisper.
He pauses, gray-blue eyes focused on me.
I’ve fought for so many years to be strong and brave, anguished and regretful, obedient and indebted. True emotions stayed buried in a dark place next to my soul. I felt guilty for loving him, so I never said it. I tried to show it, but after the accident those three words felt empty coming from me. I felt unworthy of saying them to him.
They wouldn’t make him walk.
They wouldn’t cure his cancer.
They wouldn’t bring my mom back.
Stroking Henna’s long hair, I let the tears go. Holding them back, not saying those three words … it was so much easier than this. Vulnerability takes more strength than anything else in life. You have to be willing to feel absolutely every emotion. Vulnerability is the sharpest knife, the longest marathon, the highest mountain.
The lump in my throat makes it nearly impossible to speak. I can’t hear anything beyond the pulse in my ears. And everything is blurred through the endless tears.
But …
I say everything.
Sniffling, I clench my jaw a few times, forcing the words past the swell of emotion in my chest. “I do. I love you, Dad. And there’s never been a single day of my entire fucked-up life that I haven’t felt your love for me. I think that hurt the most. Mom called it grace. She once told me that’s why she stayed. Because at the end of your very worst days together, she always felt your grace. And your hope.”
As I swallow the fear that instinctively wants to protect my vulnerability, I use the back of my arm to wipe my face, but it’s a lost cause because I’ve waited too many years to say these words to him.
“You told me to play my music when Mom thought it was wasted time. You sold your favorite horse to buy me my first drum set. Mom called you an enabler. You called it a chance. Everyone deserves a chance in life. That’s what you said. And then you said don’t screw it up.” I choke on a sob, hoping I don’t wake up Henna. I’m not sure I can be this vulnerable in front of her too.
Dad’s brow wrinkles as he tries to sit up more, but he can’t, and I sense his frustration. Gently sliding out from under Henna’s head, I ease onto my knees beside my dad’s chair. Clasping my hand with his, I bend down, resting my forehead on our hands. He sets his other hand on the back of my head.
“I’d do it again. Knowing the outcome … I’d do it again,” he says. “I’d buy you the drums. I’d tell you to play your music. I’d get in my car and drive to that house. I’d climb those same stairs, wrap my arm around you, and try to carry you down the marble stairs. You’re my boy, Bodhi. I might not be able to always catch you when you fall, but it won’t ever stop me from trying. And maybe you’re looking for my forgiveness, but I’ve told you a million times, there’s nothing to forgive. There is no debt to pay.”
“D-dad …” Sobs rack my body.
He strokes my hair like I did to Henna’s hair. “I just fear you’ve lost your will to jump. And maybe it’s because you don’t think I can catch you now. And maybe I can’t. But don’t you ever stop chasing your dreams. Chase them all the way off a cliff. But for God’s sake … don’t be afraid to jump.”
I cry like I’ve never cried before—not even when my mom died. I’ve never let myself feel this deeply because it just. Fucking. Hurts.