sorry for the pain I caused you,” he went on. “For how I left. It wasn’t right, and I should have shown you that I still loved you.” He grimaced. “It’s no excuse, but back then I was…not in a good place. My life was upended—”
“By your own damn fault,” I interjected quietly.
“Yes.” He nodded, his expression resigned. “That’s on me.” A deep sigh. “I don’t regret having a family with Olivia, because I love the girls. But I should have done it right.”
I stared at him, my heart twisting. “Why didn’t you? Why did you lie to us, for years?”
His shoulders slumped. He looked at the ground. “Because I was a selfish coward. When I fell in love with Olivia, I didn’t stop loving your mom. It’s not like turning off one switch and turning on another. I cared for your mother, deeply. And I didn’t want to hurt her. I knew that if I told her…it would cause her so much pain. So I didn’t.”
I narrowed my eyes. “That’s the worst load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”
He uttered a dry laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
“If you really loved her and didn’t want to hurt her, you wouldn’t have gone and done something you knew would hurt her in the first place. And you would have told her, if only just out of respect and to give her the choice what to do about the situation.”
He nodded again. “I know that now. I know how reckless I was. How selfish.” His eyes met mine. “Even before my time in H—down there, I’d come to realize my mistakes. Your mother is a good woman, and she didn’t deserve how I treated her. She deserved a stronger man, and you deserved a father who was there for you. I wish I could take it all back, the lies, the hurt, the years of distance. But I can’t. I can’t make amends. This pain and regret are mine to carry, for the rest of my l—” He broke off, shook his head. “Well, I guess that’d be for all time, then.”
He looked down at his hands in his lap. “I just want you to know that I’m sorry. Even if it doesn’t change anything, even if it’s too late. You deserve my apology, at the very least.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I might just start crying without being able to shed tears.
“I’ve heard you yell at me so many times,” he said quietly. “But that was…there. It wasn’t you, so if you want to, you know, rant and rail at me, go ahead. I’ll take it. If you need to let it all out, I’m here now, and I’m listening. Your pain is valid. I deserve to feel it.”
Pressing my lips together, I looked to the side, focused on the play of light and shadow underneath the tree. I’d had so many things to say to him, but they all seemed to have been sucked away now. What was left was simple, and yet so complicated.
“I don’t think I can forgive you yet,” I said, “and I don’t know if I’ll ever get there.” I brought my gaze back to him. “But I still love you.”
Simple, yet complicated.
“I understand.” He nodded, his eyes full of emotion. “I’ve missed you, kiddo. And I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become.”
My soul hurt in too many places at once. Quiet, my voice was so quiet. “I’ve missed you too.”
“I wish…I wish I could have seen you live your life. See you happy and thriving.”
I picked at a blade of grass, not feeling it in my fingers. “I could come visit.”
He stared at me for a long time. “Would you?”
I was silent for a moment, thinking of the keening sense of loss I’d felt after I found out he’d died, the regret about time lost and opportunities forfeited. “Yeah,” I said eventually, my eyes on the grass. “I think I’d like that.”
“So what now?” he asked after a minute of companionable silence. “How do I go on? Do I?”
Right, there was that. Azazel and I had talked about it on the way here, and I told my dad what we’d agreed on.
“You can stay here, as a ghost,” I said, “and you’ll be good for a while. However, there will come a time when your spirit will…degenerate. You’ll become something like a poltergeist, violent and aggressive. At which point you’ll lash out at the living, and you’ll hurt the very people you loved