Page 48 of The Shift Between Us (Covewood #2)
“I’m sorry for not telling you that I was coming, but I wanted to surprise everyone. I was able to trade shifts at work,” she replies, pulling away from our embrace and looking up at me. “Where is he?”
I point behind me to the dining room. Mom gives me a nod before going to trade places with Raine and wraps Olivia into a tight hug. “Hi, sweetheart.”
“I thought you couldn’t make it?” I say to Raine as we wrap each other in our arms.
“I didn’t think I could, but I couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that I really needed to try to be here. So I moved some things around and was able to hitch a ride with your mom.” She squeezes me gently before looking up at me. “I was able to talk my mom into coming along with us.”
Raine points to Shannon, who gives me a nervous wave in greeting. She’s hovering near the edge of the room, looking as if the floor might give out if she takes a wrong step. I can tell by the way she sways on the balls of her feet and picks at the hem of her shirt that she’s nervous.
“I’m glad you came,” I say to her.
“Raine sort of dragged me here, but I know closure will do us all some good,” she admits. Her gaze flicks toward the dining room for a split second before she looks at Raine.
“Come on, let’s go in there together,” Raine says, weaving her arm through Shannon’s and leading her into the dining room.
I follow behind everyone as swirls of emotions run through me.
I feel cheated by life, because I finally have the opportunity to have a relationship with my father, only for this to possibly be the last time I’ll ever see him—that any of us will.
It hits me hard, knowing that our time is running out.
As everyone enters the dining room, my dad turns his head toward the doorway, and then slowly, like it costs him something, he pushes himself upright in his wheelchair. His fingers tighten around the armrests, knuckles going pale, and his breath hitches.
He doesn’t speak or blink. He just stares at my mom—at them—with a look that is impossible to describe. It’s not joy. It’s not regret either. It’s not even sadness. It’s all of it.
“Hi, Davis,” Mom says, her voice soft but steady.
His eyes travel from my mom, to Raine, before landing on Shannon.
And that’s when I watch his composure cracking, as though something inside him gives away.
His mouth opens a little, but no sound comes out.
The fight goes out of him as his shoulders drop, and he falls back down into his wheelchair.
Years of silence, of resentment, of whatever wall he’d built between himself and the rest of the world… we watch it all crumble.
He looks at Raine, and so do I, catching her smile at him tentatively, and his eyes well up. My dad, the guy who once told me that crying was something you did in private, lets it happen. Quiet tears slide down his face, looking as if he doesn’t know if he deserves this moment.
I stand back—half in the doorway, half out of the moment—watching the three of them take turns giving him an embrace. Nobody quite knows where to put their hands or what to say, like we’re all scared that anything too loud might shatter the fragile moment starting to form.
Mom takes the chair nearest to Dad as Raine and Shannon sit across from him. His nurse and Nonni both watch in awe, tears filling their eyes, as Dad looks at everyone in the room, as if he can’t believe we’re real.
“Thank you for being here,” he finally says, and then his eyes land on mine. He gives me a nod, a small smile tugs on his dry lips, and I’m not sure what to do with myself.
One second, I’m rooted here, trapped in this delicate moment between my family and all the unsaid things in the air, and the next, I feel a familiar presence slide up beside me .
Olivia wraps her arms around me, pulling me in like she already knew I needed her before I even did. My body doesn’t hesitate as I lean into her, feeling as if I’ve been holding myself up too long, and finally, someone gave me permission to let go.
After a few minutes, we each take turns having a private moment with my dad.
Shannon’s turn is last, and while she’s with him, Nonni makes us some tea while Olivia and I fill my mom and Raine in on everything that happened during the weekend—everything but the fact that we were fake dating, of course.
Even though Raine already knew that detail, she kept it to herself.
Once Shannon enters the living room, my dad is wheeled in after her by his nurse, and he admits to needing a nap after everything.
Knowing that Olivia and I need to hit the road soon, we take this opportunity to say our goodbyes.
He looks a bit worse than he did this morning, but he still manages a bright smile as Olivia and I approach him.
“Hey, son.” His voice sounds feeble and raspy. “Are you guys about to head out?”
“Yeah. Olivia and I both have to work in the morning. We need to get back at a decent hour.”
He nods knowingly, sadness reflecting in his eyes. “Thank you—” His voice breaks as he attempts to cough away the emotions. “I’m thankful for this weekend. You gave me so many blessings. Something I never thought was possible for someone like me.”
I bend down to give him a hug, taking in his scent of flowery detergent. “Thank you,” I whisper, feeling the swell of grief squeezing against my throat.
“I’m glad we had this time together,” he adds softly into my ear before I pull away to look at him. I take in his dark eyes, his stringy gray hair, the grin on his face. He reaches up and, as my mom had done before, gives me a pat on my cheek.
Something I realized this weekend is that some people love in the only way that they know how.
Unfortunately, sometimes it’s not in the way we need.
This was the case between my dad and me, but now that I’m on the journey toward healing, I can look back and see little glimpses of how he was trying to love me.
On the nights he stayed as sober as he could handle and we would make a Chef Boyardee box pizza together.
When he would encourage me to help him fix whatever vehicle he was working on at the time.
The times he’d pop on a movie and have me sit down to watch it with him.
He loved me in the ways he knew how at the time.
Now that I’ve forgiven him, the chaos of the past feels quieter, and the pieces of light are easier to find.
It won’t ever change the past, but it’s helping to change my heart.