Page 123 of Fade into You

I step back to the kitchen and Seth is there, putting another tray of mini quiches in the oven. “All good?” he says, closing the door and shedding his oven mitts.

“I think I’ll let my parents know we made it,” I say, cell phone in hand.

“The back porch is right out that door, nice and quiet,” he responds, and I make my way to face the repercussions of calling Mom and Dad back. Better not to have them call the cops. Better to deal with them now than to put it off even longer and make it worse. Time to grow up, Jessa, and answer the phone.

Outside, it’s cold and the moon has a snow haze around it, threatening flurries or more. I breathe in the icy air until it burns at my throat. Strings of lights illuminate the porch, and it’s a kind of oasis from the bustle of the party inside. I sit on a wicker bench, the material creaking as I shift forward and stare at my phone, deciding to call Dad. Dad, who was cool with me having a girlfriend. Dad, who has royally fucked up with Mack. Dad, who is imperfect and still Dad. I dial and prepare myself.

BIRD

We’re just looking at eachother. In a small room filled with shelves of books and records and an old-timey record player—older than the one he left behind with me. We sit opposite each other on a worn old chesterfield sofa. And every time his eyes fill up with tears, he laughs, sighs, shakes his head. As I look back at him, it’s such a strange sense of familiar—like I’ve seen his face a million times but never once, either.

“I really wondered if this day would ever come,” he tells me.

“Me too. I wish it didn’t take so long, though.”

He nods, and looks down at his hands in his lap. I notice a silver wedding band on his finger. “Listen, I’m not sure how much your mother has told you, but I—”

“Nothing. All our lives, growing up, she told us nothing. Until tonight, anyway.”

He squints like his eyes hurt, like there’s something so bright and harsh he can barely stand it. “And she told you…?” he starts but trails off, studying my face more intently. And Iknow what he’s searching for—I nod, wanting him to finish. “That I’m gay?”

“Yes.”

He waits a moment, like he was bracing for something, before he speaks again. “You have to understand—”

“No, I do. I’m—I’m with Jessa. I mean, she’s my girlfriend, so I do understand. I’m bi, so… um… I…”

I watch as at least ten different emotions project from his face, ranging from concern and fear to maybe understanding me right back.

“Sorry, I’m still getting used to saying that,” I tell him.

“No, I’m sorry. I was taken aback a bit. I wasn’t expecting you to say that. I’m proud of you—I’m not sure I have right to say that, it’s not as if I did anything. But I’m proud of you. Knowing who you are, and being brave enough to… to love.”

“Well, you did teach me about love, Dad,” I add, finding his name still easy to say, somehow.

“I tried reaching out for years. I always worried you and your brother would think I just left you. I didn’t. I swear, I didn’t. I fought so hard to try to stay in your lives. It was the times, though. Twelve years ago, gay father? There was no way I was getting visitation.”

I shake my head. “I’m so angry at Mom for this. I don’t think I can ever forgive her.”

“I have a lot of empathy for your mom, Bird. I put her in a hard position.”

“What really happened? She said you left for someone else—a man. Was it Seth?” I dare to ask.

“No. No, that’s not it. Seth—he’s my partner, yes, but we were business partners first—friends first,onlyfriends for a long time,” he explains. “I didn’t leave for someone else. Or if I did, it was for myself. I tried, though. I loved our family. I loved your mother in my way. I really did. I still do.”

I shake my head. I don’t understand how he can say he still loves her inanyway, not after what she’s done. I want him to be outraged along with me. So I reach into my bag and show him the cream-colored envelope.

“I didn’t know these existed before today,” I tell him, pulling the card out and opening it up, rereading those words. “She never gave us any of them.”

“May I?” he asks, extending his hand.

I nod and pass him the card.

He looks at the picture on the front and…smilesas he opens it. “I remember this card.”

“How are you not angry?” I ask him.

“How can I be angry when you’re sitting here across from me?” he answers. “Besides, I wasted more years than I care to admit on being angry.”