The Man Who Has No Sight - Victoria Quinn Page 0,92
memories couldn’t drown out the painful ones.
The back door opened, and footsteps sounded behind me.
I didn’t look to see who it was—because I already knew.
He walked in front of me, carrying a beer in hand. He was in jeans and a black t-shirt. He sat in the armchair beside me, his knees spreading, his arm on the armrest with his fingers wrapped around the bottle. Then he stared at the lake.
I glanced at him, seeing the stubble of coarse hair over his jawline. His brown hair was unkempt and shaggy, like he hadn’t taken the time to cut it because he’d been too busy working or parenting my siblings who were still at the condo in Manhattan. “You want me to pour out the beer?” I set it on the table between us since I was underage.
He took a drink and licked his lips. “No. The drinking age is arbitrary, and if you can graduate from Harvard at twenty, then you can drink a beer.” He kept his eyes on the lake in front of him, never looking directly at me.
I kept drinking my beer.
“You’ve been here all week?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded. “It’s a special place.”
“Yeah…it is.” I remembered roasting marshmallows with Mom, telling her to use two blocks of chocolate. I remembered holding out the ring to her when my dad asked her to marry him.
“You know why I’m here.”
I gave a long sigh.
“We can do this now or later. But either way, it’s going to happen.”
I took another drink of my beer. “Get it over with.”
He set down his beer and turned to look at me for the first time. “I understand you were upset in the moment, but don’t talk about your mother like that—”
“She’s not my mother.” I never saw her growing up, she usually forgot my birthday, and she never cared about me. It became more obvious as I aged until I couldn’t pretend she actually gave a damn. “Cleo is my mom, and she’s a better mom than Valerie ever was.”
He continued his stare. “It’s still wrong to speak that way about someone who’s passed away…”
Whether she was dead or alive, it didn’t change who she was. “I stand by what I said.” I turned to meet my father’s look head on, unapologetic.
He took a breath as he reached for a response. “I’m very happy that you and Cleo are so close, because she loves you like she carried you for nine months, loves you in the exact same way as she loves your brother and sister. But…that doesn’t mean you need to be cruel to Valerie.”
I shook my head. “I know you don’t want me to hate her, Dad. And I don’t. I’m just indifferent to her…just the way she was to me.”
His eyes turned pained. “She loved you.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Yes.” His voice grew firm. “She did…just in her own way.”
I turned away. “Well, Cleo is my mom, so I really don’t care whether she did or not.”
“I just don’t want you to carry this anger, little man.”
“I’m not. You and Mom are the perfect parents. I’m so lucky to have you.”
When he took a breath and sighed, it was audible.
“I just… Now I realize you were right. You tried to warn me. You said I was too young, and I was. I was naïve.” I held the beer between my legs and started to peel the label.
He was quiet for a long time, staring at the lake. We were in the shade from the awning, so we were comfortable, safe from the piercing rays my father always warned me about. “I didn’t want to be right, son.”
I’d always felt out of place, even in my advanced courses and during my time at Harvard. My intelligence was a gift that should have been considered a blessing, but it ostracized me from everyone, even my own classmates. I thought Tabitha and I had a deep relationship, but now I wondered if I didn’t see what other people saw, because I wasn’t capable of it. That was why my father and I were still close even though I was out of the house and on my own. We were the same, and we understood each other.
“I know you’re hurt right now. But remember that her actions and decisions only reflect her, not you. It doesn’t mean you did something wrong, that you weren’t good enough, that you deserved what happened to you.”
“And Kevin?”
There was hesitation in his gaze. “He’s just an ass.”