and it’s like my father wants me to feel it. I can’t do it. He says things about finding closure and being happy but I can’t think through the loss. How can anyone find closure when the pain that comes from even thinking about it is crippling? I run my hands over my face, wiping away the cold sweat forming on my brow. Then I walk to my car and slide in. A few minutes go by and I keep checking my rearview mirror to see if my father is coming from the house but the door is just as still as I left it.
Sighing, I rest my head back on the seat. He knows I’m not coming back. I have a mind to leave, but I know that he needs me today, even if he has an annoying way of showing it. I’m peering into my rearview mirror when movement in front of me catches my eye.
It looks like Della is on the side of her house digging in the ground. At first glance, it seems like she may be gardening but she almost seems frantic. I squint, leaning forward to see if I can make her out a little better but it’s hard to tell. I wonder if I should go check on her.
The car door opens unexpectedly, causing me to jump as my father slides into the passenger seat. I look from him back to Della, who’s now reentering the house.
“Listen,” he says, buckling his seat belt. “I’m sorry, all right? I just worry about you. Just know that when you are ready to talk, you’ve got an ear.”
“Thank you,” I say, meeting his eyes. “Thanks for worrying about me. But I’ll be fine. We both will. He squeezes my hand and smiles. Then I start the car and pull out of the driveway. I consider heading across the street to Della’s, but I am beginning to wonder if I’m overreacting. Maybe she was just ripping up weeds?
“You okay?” my father asks, pulling my attention back to him.
“Um… yeah, I’m good.” I shake the crazy thoughts way and drive down the street. “Have you talked to Della or Ben recently?”
“I’ve sent Dell a few texts, but she hasn’t responded, and Ben has been staying at a hotel. I feel for them.”
“Yeah,” I say.
For the next ten minutes, our conversation is minimal. I'm trying to calm myself and push away the thoughts of my mother, which feels impossible right now. The lake house was her favorite of her investment properties. I say her and not their because flipping houses was her thing not his. My father hates doing repair work and always hires contractors but I think he wants to do all the work on this one himself because she loved the property so much. In a way, I think he feels closer to her when he does.
"What do you think of the color yellow?"
"For what? Like in general?"
"No. For the walls?"
"I don't know."
"Well it's your choice. You'll be living there next year."
"It sounds a bit bright."
"Maybe so. We need to get a woman's opinion. Your mother always said that if it were up to me, our entire house would be one color." He laughs. "Maybe we can get Xia to come help us pick out paint."
"No. She's busy today. I'll ask her tomorrow when I see her."
"Okay," he says, then turns his gaze back to the traffic. My thoughts tumble in Xia's direction and I wonder what he'd say if he knew how I felt for her. Even more, I wonder what he'd tell me to do in this situation. He knows how much I value our friendship but I wonder if he thinks I'm being stupid holding in my feelings, trying to protect it.
"Dad," I say after a beat. "What if I told you I was in love with a girl who may not feel the same way?" I can feel him staring but instead of looking at him, I keep my eyes on the road.
"In love? Is this about that little blonde you've been dating?"
"No. I broke up with her."
“Well, who are you talking about?”
Her name is on the tip of my tongue, but for whatever reason I hesitate as embarrassment trickles through me. He’s going to think I’m crazy. “Um. Probably the last person you’d expect.”
"Ah. I see," he says. I can see his smile out the corner of my eye, so I dare a glance at him.
"What?" I ask.
"Your mother always said you