5 Bikers for Valentines

He walked quickly to the couch and sat down, tapping his foot nervously. My father was never a jittery person. He was always strong and confident. He didn’t shy away from things, and he never got scared. Seeing him shake with nerves was disconcerting. I sat down across from him and waited.

“I was wrong,” he said quickly, spitting out the words as if they hurt. “What I said about Caleb. I was wrong.”

“What?” I said. I’d waited a long time to hear him say those words, and now that he had, I couldn’t believe them.

“I’m sorry I was so angry with you,” he said. “Honey, I was just worried. Most of your life, it was you and me. You were all I had, and when Caleb came along, I saw you change.”

“You got scared,” I said.

“Yes.” He nodded. “Caleb wasn’t the best kid. I know he’s different now. As much as I hate to admit it, I can see how much he’s changed.”

“He has,” I said.

“I want the best for you,” Dad said. “I don’t always show it in the right way, but that’s all I want. All I want is for you to be safe and happy, Tara. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Caleb makes me happy,” I said. I smiled. “He’s the best person for me, Dad. There isn’t anyone better.”

Dad sighed and finally relaxed. He sunk into the couch and smiled weakly. I could tell it took a lot of strength for him to come over and see me.

“I’ll stay out of your way,” he said. “It won’t be easy for me, but I’ll adjust. If Caleb is who you want, then I’ll butt out. I promise.”

“Thank you, Dad,” I said. I laughed lightly, relieved. “Thank you for coming here.”

“It was time,” he said. “I couldn’t let things get any worse between us.”

I smiled again, but as I looked at him, my stomach dropped. For a second, I’d forgotten all about my illness. I was so happy that my father was finally apologizing and accepting my decision that everything else disappeared.

I didn’t want to tell my dad about the cancer while he was angry with me. Now I didn’t have any more excuses. I stared at his face. He was smiling for the first time in weeks. He looked okay again. Happy. And, I was about to destroy that.

“Dad,” I said slowly. “Now that we’re okay, there’s something you should know.”

“What is it?” he asked. The smile slipped off his face. He searched my eyes, and I looked away quickly. I studied my hands and took a deep brea

th. There was no turning back now.

“I got my headaches checked out,” I said. “You were right, they weren’t normal.”

“What did they say?” he asked, sitting forward on the couch.

“At first, they weren’t sure,” I said. My voice was soft. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get through this. “Then, after discussing things with an oncologist, they realized what was wrong.”

“Oncologist?” My dad clung onto that word like only a doctor could. I watched fear settle in his eyes.

“I was diagnosed with brain cancer,” I said, articulating each word carefully. “It’s rare. They almost didn’t catch it, but they did. That’s what’s been causing my headaches. That’s why I’ve been so sick.”

My dad sprung off the couch and hurried over to me. He pulled me into his arms and held me against his chest. His reaction was unlike Caleb’s or Cathy’s. He didn’t waste time with words. He just held me, silently rocking me back and forth until we were both crying.

It was a long time before he pulled away from me and when he did, I immediately longed for his arms. Caleb had been more right than he knew, I needed my dad. I refused to let myself admit it or even think it because it hurt too much. Now that he was here, I never wanted him to leave. I didn’t want to go through this without him.

“What are they going to do?” Dad finally asked, wiping tears from his eyes. “What’s the treatment plan.”

“Chemo,” I said. “The doctors want to start with chemo and then, if that doesn’t work, move on to surgery. I have a tumor, but it’s small. They’re hoping chemo will shrink it enough that surgery won’t be necessary.”

“How long did they give you?” he asked.

His voice was tight, and I knew he didn’t really want to hear the answer. He was terrified. Scared in a way only a parent could be.

“They don’t know,” I said honestly. “This cancer is rare. They won’t know what works until it works. And if nothing does, then at least we tried.”