King of Campus

I shake my head feeling torn between the anger I’ve all but cloaked myself in for the last five years and the need for my father’s love and approval.

Finally I murmur, “Thanks, dad. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

Looking decidedly uncomfortable, he finally murmurs with just a hint of sadness, “Your mother would be so proud of what you’ve accomplished. How you followed your heart and didn’t let anything stand in your way.”

Almost instantly my eyes well with emotion. We never talk about my mom.

Not ever.

His eyes drop to the beer bottle in his hands before he says, “I know the last seven years have been rough on you and I’m sorry for that. You were just thirteen when your mom was diagnosed with cancer and then she died two years later.” He pauses. I can tell just how difficult this conversation is for him by the way his throat silently works to get the words out. When he finally continues, it’s in a much softer voice. “And everything just moved so fast with Leah…” he leaves the rest to hang in the air between us.

There’s something that has been eating away at me for the last five years and this feels like the only opportunity I might ever have to lay it to rest. “Were you cheating on mom? Is that why you and Leah got together so quickly?”

My quietly uttered questions are like bombs dropping right in the middle of the table. Neither of us dare to move a single muscle as a thick stifling silence suddenly descends. My heart pounds in my chest as I wait to see what he’ll do. Part of me wonders if he’ll even bother answering them. We’ve never sat down and talked like this before.

It’s not that we don’t just talk about my mom. We don’t talk period. Not about the things that actually matter. I didn’t just lose my mom when she died five years ago. I lost my dad as well. The easy relationship we’d always had changed. Became more distant. It was like the loss of my mother made it impossible to bridge the distance separating us. Leah only fractured it further. I don’t think that was ever her intention, but it was the end result nonetheless.

Not saying a word, he lifts the beer bottle to his lips before taking a long pull. He practically drains the entire thing before gingerly setting it back down. Leah and the twins aren’t home. They’re at swim class.

It’s just us.

His voice sounds strung tight when he finally asks, “Are you sure you want to talk about all this, Ivy?”

Biting my lower lip, I give my head a slight nod. I need to know. It’s been stuck in my head for the last five years. No matter what it is, I need to hear the truth from his lips before I can finally get over it. I’m so tired of feeling angry with the pair of them. Five years is a long time to be consumed with bitterness and resentment. It’s exhausting. And it’s no way to live your life.

Breaking eye contact, he lowers his head before staring down at his fingers. “I guess I’d always hoped you would just move on. That we wouldn’t have to discuss it.” His gaze rises, suddenly piercing mine. The agony is clear within his deep brown eyes. “But you’ve never gotten over it.”

“No.” I shake my head even though the answer couldn’t be more obvious to either one of us. “I couldn’t. It hurt too much. I need to know the truth of what happened, dad. Then maybe I can finally put it behind me where it belongs.”

He nods as if that makes sense but still I can tell he doesn’t necessarily want to dredge up the past. A faraway look enters his eyes as he begins, “When I met your mother, we’d both just finished college and were looking for jobs. Once we got together, we were inseparable. We just fell for each other so quickly. She was it for me and I knew it within a few weeks of meeting her. After dating for about nine months, I proposed and we got married.” Still looking caught up in the past, the edges of his lips tip up just a bit. “We were happy. Especially after we had you. You were such a good baby. Such a joy to both of us.” He shakes his head. “Your mother would have had a whole houseful of kids, if she could have.”

His words catch me off guard. I’m an only child. Well, before the twins I was… “She wanted more kids?” I don’t know why that surprises me so much, but it does. I’d never heard her mention wanting more children.

Sorrow fills his eyes before he finally nods his head. “She did. We both did.”

My brow furrows together and I can’t help but ask, “So why didn’t you?” It seems so logical. You want more kids? Then you have more kids. But they only had one.