my lip to keep it from trembling. Facing the truth really sucked sometimes.
I was surprised to see him come back in, holding his wallet and a shoebox. He lay both on the bed and motioned for me to scoot over so he could sit.
“I don’t think I ever showed you the pictures I kept in my wallet.” Dad unsnapped the worn brown leather and flipped to the inside. There was a picture of him, Mom, and me from their wedding day followed by a picture of both of us from the rear when I was about five years old.
“I don’t remember this one. Is that the Butterfly Garden?” I could tell by the oversized caterpillar statue I loved to sit on every time we went to the Bronx Zoo.
“That is the first day we met. Your mom snapped that picture because she said you took my hand, walked away, and we ignored her for the next hour.”
I remembered meeting Lucas for the first time at the zoo all those years ago. Mom said I made him stay in the Butterfly Garden for hours and he called me Butterfly ever since.
“I’m surprised you still have it.” The next picture was Joey’s newborn photo. He was swaddled in the typical blue striped hospital blanket with sandy brown wisps of hair sticking out from his cap.
“I always keep these three pictures with me because they were the three best days of my life.” He swallowed as he put the wallet aside and opened up the shoebox. I recognized some old pictures I’d drawn and some more photos. “This was the night I took you to the father/daughter dance when you were a Daisy scout.”
I smiled at my blue velvet dress and Mary Jane shoes. “I remember that dress. Why did you keep the pictures I drew?”
Dad shrugged. “When you have kids, you’ll understand. Your teacher gave me these the night of the dance. This picture is of us when I taught you to swim, and this one is just of me and why I was your favorite person. I used to keep them up in my office but when you left for school, I took them down and kept them here.”
I squinted my eyes at him. “Why did you do that?”
He shrugged back with a sad laugh. “I guess I’m getting sentimental in my old age. I understood why you wanted to go so far from home, but I missed you. This was the night you went from being a little girl I loved to my daughter—and you’ve been my daughter ever since.”
Guilt tore apart my insides as I gazed at the hurt on his face. Every skinned knee, every school play, every heartache, he was always right by my side—and made it clear there was nowhere else he’d rather be. Maybe I didn’t have his last name, but I had his heart; a heart I just crushed.
Oversized tears streamed down my cheeks as I leaned forward and cried into his chest. “I’m so sorry, Dad.” I was sorry. I’d always hate that I’d never have the biological connection with Lucas I’d craved ever since I could remember. My recent contact with Marc only made that all the more raw. The resentment of being a Christensen and not a Hunter made me overlook the one connection I did have with Lucas. He’d always loved me as his own, and that was the only one that ever mattered.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Dad murmured as he rubbed my back. “Don’t cry.” He pulled back and wiped my tears away with his thumbs. “But, please, don’t ever say you aren’t mine.”
I nodded and he kissed my forehead. “And come downstairs. You’ll be back at school soon enough. When you aren’t Skyping what’s his name you can spend time with your family.”
I laughed and wiped the wetness off my face with the back of my hand. “Owen, Dad.”
“Yeah, whatever.” He gave me a wink before he stood. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Dad. I’ll be right down.” Dad gave me a small smile and left the room.
I hated that I hurt him, and hated that in spite, I opened up a Pandora’s Box that would hurt him even more.
I was the naïve one. There were no simple truths.
Owen
“MY BABY BOY IS TWENTY-ONE! Where did the time go?”
I smirked at
I was surprised to see him come back in, holding his wallet and a shoebox. He lay both on the bed and motioned for me to scoot over so he could sit.
“I don’t think I ever showed you the pictures I kept in my wallet.” Dad unsnapped the worn brown leather and flipped to the inside. There was a picture of him, Mom, and me from their wedding day followed by a picture of both of us from the rear when I was about five years old.
“I don’t remember this one. Is that the Butterfly Garden?” I could tell by the oversized caterpillar statue I loved to sit on every time we went to the Bronx Zoo.
“That is the first day we met. Your mom snapped that picture because she said you took my hand, walked away, and we ignored her for the next hour.”
I remembered meeting Lucas for the first time at the zoo all those years ago. Mom said I made him stay in the Butterfly Garden for hours and he called me Butterfly ever since.
“I’m surprised you still have it.” The next picture was Joey’s newborn photo. He was swaddled in the typical blue striped hospital blanket with sandy brown wisps of hair sticking out from his cap.
“I always keep these three pictures with me because they were the three best days of my life.” He swallowed as he put the wallet aside and opened up the shoebox. I recognized some old pictures I’d drawn and some more photos. “This was the night I took you to the father/daughter dance when you were a Daisy scout.”
I smiled at my blue velvet dress and Mary Jane shoes. “I remember that dress. Why did you keep the pictures I drew?”
Dad shrugged. “When you have kids, you’ll understand. Your teacher gave me these the night of the dance. This picture is of us when I taught you to swim, and this one is just of me and why I was your favorite person. I used to keep them up in my office but when you left for school, I took them down and kept them here.”
I squinted my eyes at him. “Why did you do that?”
He shrugged back with a sad laugh. “I guess I’m getting sentimental in my old age. I understood why you wanted to go so far from home, but I missed you. This was the night you went from being a little girl I loved to my daughter—and you’ve been my daughter ever since.”
Guilt tore apart my insides as I gazed at the hurt on his face. Every skinned knee, every school play, every heartache, he was always right by my side—and made it clear there was nowhere else he’d rather be. Maybe I didn’t have his last name, but I had his heart; a heart I just crushed.
Oversized tears streamed down my cheeks as I leaned forward and cried into his chest. “I’m so sorry, Dad.” I was sorry. I’d always hate that I’d never have the biological connection with Lucas I’d craved ever since I could remember. My recent contact with Marc only made that all the more raw. The resentment of being a Christensen and not a Hunter made me overlook the one connection I did have with Lucas. He’d always loved me as his own, and that was the only one that ever mattered.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Dad murmured as he rubbed my back. “Don’t cry.” He pulled back and wiped my tears away with his thumbs. “But, please, don’t ever say you aren’t mine.”
I nodded and he kissed my forehead. “And come downstairs. You’ll be back at school soon enough. When you aren’t Skyping what’s his name you can spend time with your family.”
I laughed and wiped the wetness off my face with the back of my hand. “Owen, Dad.”
“Yeah, whatever.” He gave me a wink before he stood. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Dad. I’ll be right down.” Dad gave me a small smile and left the room.
I hated that I hurt him, and hated that in spite, I opened up a Pandora’s Box that would hurt him even more.
I was the naïve one. There were no simple truths.
Owen
“MY BABY BOY IS TWENTY-ONE! Where did the time go?”
I smirked at
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