Painted Memories (33 page)

Now I waited, not impatiently, in the parking lot for my life to
change. I got my hopes up that for once my father would follow through on just one of his promises, but as usual, he didn't. He was already fifteen minutes late and I wondered why I continued waiting for him. I should have guessed this was how it would turn out. If I had known he wasn't serious about talking, I wouldn't have bothered taking off nearly a week to deal with things... to deal with him.

Calling the school secretary was the first thing I did Monday morning when I woke up. She was the one in charge of finding substitute replacements when teachers called in sick, and I hoped there wouldn't be any problems. I needed my job. I enjoyed being there. The other teachers were warming up to me, and now Drew worked there too. I liked seeing him all the time and being able to stop by each other’s classroom whenever we wanted, although something deep down told me he wouldn't need his school job for long. When we spoke on the phone the night before, he said his voicemail was full. People were calling to get more information on his paintings after what they saw at the charity event. Maybe all the drama I created wasn't totally in vain and gave Drew some exposure. At least, I could contribute in some trivial way.

Drew told me that Phillip couldn’t apologize enough times for grabbing the wrong pictures and offering them at the event. Apparently, everything that happened really upset him and he felt personally responsible. True. He was... to an extent. In actuality, all he did was lift the Band-Aid from a gaping wound that hadn't healed yet. What happened there helped me here. It made me run to the last place I thought I wanted to be. So far, things were looking up. I confronted my feelings over Jesse, cleaned out his room—which was long overdue—spent time with Mom, and cleared the air with Drew. All that I needed now was to make some progress with my father, my tardy father.

The tapping on my window startled me and I jerked my head to look out the window. My father stood inches away, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a bouquet of white roses. As if he
waving the white flag of surrender, he held them out to me with a sheepish smile. I stepped out of the car and accepted them.

“Thank you,” I said, smelling their intoxicating aroma. “You're late.” I lay the flowers in the passenger seat before I locked and shut my car door. As I walked toward the front entrance, Dad hurried in front of me to grab the door. Instead of opening it, he stopped and faced me. The crisp black suit he wore would catch anyone's eyes. He dressed like a man with power who demanded respect. Maybe it was how he held
himself, or the serious expression on his face that made others sense his importance. I wasn't sure, but it was a look I'd known my whole life and I was immune to the vibe he emitted. This time, however, he caught me off guard when his face softened a touch before he spoke.

“I apologize for being late. I had an unexpected client show up and I had to do everything but push him out the door to get here on time.”

“It's not like I have anything else to do while I'm here anyway. It's fine.” I waved it off. 

Dad looked at me with conviction, “I'm genuinely trying to make an effort here, Lilly.”

“I'm here, aren't I?” I countered. “Shall we continue?”

He nodded and opened the door. Once inside, the hostess' eyes skimmed over me and landed on my father. “Mr. Morgan! Welcome back. Will you be sitting at the bar today? Or would you like a table in the back?”

“Table in the back, Tammy. Thank you.”

“Of course.
Follow me, please.”

It was still early for the normal dinner crowd, but Tammy led us to the very back of the room. This would, no doubt, suit us better, should the conversation get out of hand.
Less people to hear our drama. Once seated, Tammy took our drink order, I leaned back into my chair and crossed my arms over my chest.

“
The bar, Dad? How often do you come here? Isn't it a bit cheap to drink in a place like this? Beneath your standards?”

He shrugged. “A drink is a drink and you have no standards when it’s alcohol you crave. You'll get it wherever you can. But really, it's more for my customers. This place is one of those restaurants that
gives you an expensive meal for your buck. It makes clients feel special when I bring them here. Besides, they know me. And even though no reservations are needed, they give me high priority. It sends a nice message to my clients.”

My father didn't become one of the state's best attorneys by being stupid. He had a point. He was also smart enough to order a Coke with his meal. If he had ordered anything with alcohol in it, I would have strangled his neck from across the table.

I could definitely see how having a meal in this place with my father had its perks. Our food arrived in no time. The silence stretched, filling the air with uncertainty, and though I was hungry, my stomach was a jangle of nerves. I had all kinds of things planned to say, but lacked the courage to speak them. At least, not right then. My best moments seemed to come when I felt threatened or beaten down. Seeing my father sitting across from me, nervous, with perspiration prickling his brow, didn't help.

“So, how long have you been with Drew?” he asked.

“A few months, I guess.” Where was he going with this?

“Oh? Is that all? I would have thought it was longer than that.”

“And why is that?”

“Talking with him the other day... he was very passionate about you. He wasted no time putting me in my place... or threatening me.” His lips curved slightly. “He does know I sue people for a living, right?”

I nearly choked on my breadstick. “He did what? Threatened you? How?”

He chuckled and waved his hand, “It's not important, but he was quite serious... and convincing.” Dad put down his fork and wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin before laying it across
his lap. “I'm sorry I slapped you the other night. I honestly don't remember doing it.”

What I wouldn't have given to be a fly on the wall when he and Drew talked. “From what I've picked up on, I'm not the only person you hit.” I stated, remembering what Mom said in the cemetery.

“Yes, unfortunately I'm not myself when I drink. I know, there's no excuse for it—”

“Oh, you don't have to convince me of that. Whatever kind of reconciliation you expect to come between us will not happen unless you get help.” I picked up my glass and took a sip.

He nodded. “I know. But I'm sure I can give it up on my ow—”

“No!” I slammed my glass down hard on the tabletop. “If you could have done it on your own, you would have already. You need help, not just with drinking, but everything else. You need to learn how to deal with Jesse's death and move on. Stop blaming me! Stop calling me a murderer and screwing up my life so that
I
can move on. I'm tired, Dad. I'm tired of thinking I've gotten past everything only to have you call me up and screw my life up again.” I stared at his tired eyes. “Either you get it together, or this will be the last time you ever see or speak to me. I refuse to keep living like this. I will disappear from your life forever, and when and
if
you decide to change, it won't matter anymore.
You
won’t matter to me anymore.”

He picked up his fork and pushed the noodles on his plate around, appearing to be lost in thought. Or maybe he was stunned that this wasn't going like he
anticipated. I didn't know. It didn't really matter.

Glancing up, his eyes softened, turning hazy like wet glass. “So that's it then? I get help and you'll forgive me? It's that easy?”

I pushed my plate away, my appetite diminished, and shook my head. “Unfortunately, no, after everything you've said to me, how you've treated me... it's going to take a while to get past it, if ever. I can't make any promises. Right now, all I can do is try.”

“Asking anything more wouldn't be fair. I definitely don't deserve it. Your mother gave me too many chances, and I pissed away every one of them. Now look at us. I gave her the house and whatever else she wanted. I knew it was my fault and there was no need to make her pay for it by taking everything away from her... but I still couldn't stop drinking. It's ruined my personal life...” He leaned towards me, his face strained, his conviction emanating from his stare. “Damn it, Lilly, I know I have a problem. It's hard to admit it.” He sighed, his voice becoming calmer. “It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do.”

My dad had a lot of pride, but if he thought that was hard, going to therapy was like getting punched in the gut for an hour every week for months on end. It sucked, and sticking with it was the hardest part. But at least, I made the effort. It was about time he started making some changes too.

He took a sip of his drink before swirling the straw around the glass. I tried to imagine how difficult this was for him, admitting all of his problems, but I just couldn't find any sympathy. He screwed up so royally, it seemed incomprehensible to try and fix any of it, but at the same time, what kind of person would it make me if I didn't try?

Dad continued as if I still weren't convinced this would work. “Lilly, I know I screwed up. I let a simple accident eat away at me until I couldn't see straight. I had your futures all planned out, but it was completely blown to shit. You know how I like to have plans for everything. Burying my son and losing my daughter in the process weren't part of my future plans. When Jesse died, I thought I could handle it... handle it for all of us, but I couldn't. And every time I picked up a drink, I felt better. One drink turned into three, and three turned into quarts. Before I knew it, I was saying and doing who knows what?  It's not an excuse, but a fact. Truthfully, if it weren't for your mother, I'd probably be lying on the side of the road in some ditch around here. She looked out for me when I couldn't. I walked all over her for years, and she was still here for me despite my being a hateful bastard. One day, she came home and told me to get out, get help, or die because she refused to watch me slowly kill myself. And you know what I did?” he asked.

I shook my head and he continued. “I packed a bag, threw it in the back seat and headed for the bar. You know why? Because getting a drink was a hell of a lot easier than getting my shit together and dealing with the pain of losing everything I’d
ever loved.”

I was speechless over his candor, much more when he quickly swiped a tear from his cheek. For years, I thought my mom took my dad's crap too readily; and so many times I wished she would stand up to him. I was proud to see she took her life back. There was more, I was certain. More about their problems and why it didn't work, but I honestly didn't want to know. No one wants to see their parents split, but I always thought there was no sense in staying together for the children's sake. Either you were in it because you loved each other, or you got out because you didn't. Plain and simple, marriage was a work-in-progress. If you didn't work at it all the time, it would fail. My mom did all the work and my dad only put in half the time, and on his terms. I could see now what I couldn't see then. A marriage like theirs was bound to fail sooner or later.

“And how do you feel now, Dad? What is it you want?”

“I would like for you to put me in your life again.” His voice cracked. “You've grown up to become a beautiful young woman, and I don't know a damned thing about you. You're practically engaged to that Drew fellow and I don't know anything about him. You have a career, not one that I chose for you, but you love it; and all I did was pass it off as a phase, or something you did to piss me off. I'm sorry for that, I really am. I was a bastard and I don't want to be that person anymore.” Another tear fell down his cheek, and this time, he didn't wipe it away. “I don't think I can go another year without having you in my life, Lilly.”

I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from crying in front of him. It was all so sudden. I never, in a million years, expected him to say such things. Of course, he could have been feeding me a bunch of crap, but it was different this time when he spoke. His voice broke and his hands shook. It was a side of my father I almost couldn't stand to see. As many times as I longed to hear my father apologize for his actions, I never thought it would happen like this. But as much as I wanted him to admit his shortcomings,
he
had to want to change... for himself... not for me.

I reached for his hand across the table unexpectedly. It was the first time in years I showed him any kind of sympathy, or that I cared in any way. “Dad, if you truly want to work through this, it has to be because you want it, for yourself, not for me. If you don't want to change for yourself, it'll never work. You can't do this just to make me happy.”

“But I don't want to be like this anymore, Lilly. I want to get to know you again, be in your life. If that means taking a leave of absence from the firm, I will do it. I want to make you happy and make myself a better person. Can’t I want both?”

This conversation was nothing like I imagined. He was serious, dead serious. Dad wanted this for us. He had a point. If he lost hope at repairing our relationship, what was left for him to believe in? I was all he had left now. I did my best to hold it together while I sat across from him, wearing my most neutral face.

Fresh tears slid down his cheeks. “You're all I have left, Lilly. I don't want to lose you.”

My facade shattered along with everything I was trying to hold together.