him in the daily hug we both need.
“I take it you haven’t found anything new?”
His daily question stings like a son of a bitch every morning when I have to tell him no.
“Have a seat, Dad.” I pat the back of the chair and his tall, but much skinnier frame sits down. “Did you take your pills this morning?” I ask, leaning on my desk in front of him. He gave us quite the scare a few months back with major chest pains. Spent two days in the hospital having all kinds of tests done. His heart’s in perfectly good shape; his blood pressure not so much. His anxiety is not much better, either, so now he’s on medication for both.
“Of course I did, Zack. I may be losing my damn mind over not knowing where my daughter is, but I still know how...” He can’t even get the words out of his mouth before his shoulders slump forward, his head dips and tears drip down, falling on his wrinkled pants.
“Dad.” I squat down in front of him.
“I can’t do this anymore. This is absolutely killing me. I’m helpless, weak. It’s something I can’t describe, only feel. And I’m sick of feeling this way.”
His words come out mangled, yet I understand him through his choked-up sobs. My father has always been the strongest man I have ever known. Kind hearted, loving, and supportive to both my sister and me our entire lives. Seeing him deflated in front of me is my undoing.
“I know you’re doing everything you can to find her, son.”
He glances up, his red-rimmed eyes mirroring my own, with graying circles underneath. My dad’s heart may be in perfect condition, but he’s dying inside from a broken heart.
“We are, Dad. Why don’t we go get some breakfast? We can talk a bit and I’ll take you over to the house to see Nolan. Sound good?”
He bobs his head. My hand reaches out, into which he puts his so I can help him out of the chair.
“Let me make a call to Krista, let her know.”
“Zack.” He swipes the tears off of his face.
“Yeah, Dad?” He says nothing for a few intense moments. “Dad, what is it?”
I position myself beside him where he now stands facing the board containing all the evidence we have been able to find.
“She looks so much like your mother.” His words startle me. My dad hasn’t spoken about her in years. When my mother, Tina, came to visit Clove a few years ago, we never even told him about her coming by. We didn’t want to do or say anything to upset him. Clove said the bitch wasn’t worth it, and she’s not. Her memory has long been forgotten as far as I’m concerned.
“Your mother was always a self-centered bitch, Zack. Nothing I ever did was good enough for her. I tried so hard to make things work between us. Not because I loved her; any feelings I had for her died the first time I found out she cheated on me. I tried to make it work for you. Clove wasn’t even supposed to happen. I vowed to myself I would live the rest of my life without ever touching your mother again, but things happen. She begged, promised me she would never cheat on me again, if I would just give her one more chance.”
He pauses and shoves his hands into his pockets.
“The day she told me she was pregnant again, we both were so happy. Did a part of me second-guess whether this child was mine or not? Sure I did. It didn’t matter, though. The minute your sister was born, I fell in love with her just as much as I loved you. The both of you are mine, mine to protect, to take care of, to love, and I love you both but . . . I failed on the other two.”
“You have never failed us, Dad. Not once. Don’t blame yourself for this.”
His response is a mild shrug. Standing still, I watch him reach for a picture of Clove on her wedding day with shaky hands.
“Your mother though…” he swipes a tear, his voice dipping to an all-time low. Jesus. I’m watching my dad fall apart, reliving what had to be the hardest time of his life. My gut twists in a fucking knot, my fingers flex. I knew my mother was a cold-hearted bitch. I have never wanted to hit a woman in my life except her.