All I can do is stare at him silently, trying to wrap my brain around what he’s telling me.
Before I even have a chance to respond, he continues, “It’s hard for me to regret what happened because if Leah hadn’t ended up pregnant, we wouldn’t have the twins right now. But I also know that my relationship with her, and how swiftly everything evolved, was hard on you. And I’m sorry for that, Ivy. I really am. If she hadn’t gotten pregnant, we wouldn’t have had to move so abruptly. We could have taken our time.”
His eyes hold mine and I can tell he’s trying to be honest about what happened. “Leah is a good woman and she makes me happy, she really does. Maybe us getting together didn’t happen the way it should have, but it happened nonetheless. I hope at some point in time, you’ll be able to accept that. The five of us, we’re a family.” He sucks in another deep breath before pushing out the rest of the words, “We may not be the family you want, but we’re the family you have. And we’ll always be here for you, Ivy. No matter what.”
As he finally finishes, a thick silence settles over us as everything he just told me circles viciously around in my head. Honestly, I’m not even sure just how to respond. For so long I’ve been holding onto this deep well of anger I had for both Leah and my dad.
Obviously Leah was an easy target to focus on. It felt as if she just moved herself right in and took over what used to be my mom’s role in this family. And that was a bitter pill to swallow. It put us instantly at odds.
Although, thinking back now, I can’t say she ever tried acting like my mom. She always left all the parenting decisions to my dad. There were many times when she tried striking up conversations, but I was so full of grief and anger, I just couldn’t see past it. She tried telling me about the loss of her mom but, at that point, I just hadn’t been ready to listen. I hadn’t wanted to hear anything she had to say. I hadn’t wanted to have anything in common with her.
What I know is that it’s been five years since my mother passed away and the loss of her still feels painful. The ache is still ever present. Some days it throbs more than others. Sometimes I think the pain of her death will never fade.
Not completely.
I want so badly to share all the details of my life with her. All the competition dance teams I made, prom, getting accepted to Barnett, going to Paris, falling in love with Roan, auditioning for Cincinnati…
I miss her dearly.
No one will ever fill that void within me.
But I’m so tired of carrying around all this anger. It feels like I’m constantly hauling around ten heavy bags of luggage. It’s exhausting. And I know my mom wouldn’t want me living like that. She was always so positive and forgiving. I also think she would have wanted my dad to find love again. Maybe not as quickly as he did… But she would have wanted him to have more children. Kids she couldn’t have.
That thought alone has a sob rising to my lips.
In the blink of an eye, my dad is there besides me, taking me into his arms and holding me tightly against him. All the sadness and anger I’ve been holding onto for all these years finally breaks free. It’s just as powerful as a dyke bursting. I must sob in my father’s arms for a good fifteen minutes before I’m finally able to pull myself back together again.
“I’m so sorry, Ivy,” he whispers harshly, “sorry I didn’t take more care with your feelings.”
Pulling away, I swipe at my eyes with shaking fingers before grabbing a napkin from the silver holder sitting in the middle of the table. I dab at the wetness still clinging to my eyelashes before blowing my dripping nose.
God, I hate crying.
It’s never been a good look for me. I’m not one of those girls who cries pretty. Nope. Big noisy tears, red rimmed puffy eyes, splotchy looking skin and a runny nose...
But I have to admit that it feels so good to finally purge myself of all this poison. My mom wouldn’t have wanted me hanging onto it. And more to the point, I don’t want to hang on to it anymore. Because at the end of the day, my anger won’t bring her back. And it hasn’t helped me to move on either. If anything, it’s probably impeded the healing process.
“I want to be able to talk about her, dad. And this is the first time in five years we’ve actually sat down and done it.”
Looking remorseful, he bobs his head. “I know… I know, you’re right. I’m sorry for that, Ivy. I didn’t handle her death well.” He looks down at his hands for just a moment. “I never planned on Leah getting pregnant when she did. It was completely unexpected. I’m just sorry for all the pain it’s caused you.”