Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Stop putting this off, Farrow.
I sighed.
Sure, I wanted to talk to Dad about Zach, but mostly, it was an excuse to avoid the real conversation we needed to have.
“I guess it’s time to get serious.”
I brought my knees to my chin, setting Vezzali onto my discarded jacket.
“I’m sorry I haven’t visited you. I have a lot to say, and every word of it scares me.”
The breeze picked up, extra chilly in the winter morning.
“I’m sorry you made all these sacrifices that I never knew about. I’m sorry you gave up so much for me to become a fencer. And I’m sorry I ruined that fencing career in spectacular fashion. Are you ashamed of me?”
A gust of wind slammed into me, sending my pen half a foot away.
“Okay, okay. No more wallowing in self-pity. I get it.”
I didn’t know whether to grin or cry, so I cleared my throat instead.
“I’m sorry I didn’t see you before you died. I’m sorry that I didn’t come in time to stop you from being buried. I know you always wanted to be cremated with your ashes scattered at the ice cream shop where we picked our company name. I’m sorry I no longer want to run Maid in Maryland. And most of all, I’m sorry about how much I resent you right now.”
I worked my jaw with my thumb, buying time, wondering how to say the next part. It was odd how Dad chose this exact moment to speak in my head.
After I’d finally realized how mad I was at him.
That’s okay, Fae. Being angry isn’t a bad thing. It means you’ve accepted that you deserve more.
I huffed out a breath, digging my fingers into my temples.
“I’m mad at you. Okay, Dad?”
So, so mad, it’s hard to breathe sometimes.
I shot up, beginning to pace.
“I’m mad that you knew from the start that Vera didn’t want me, and you stayed with her anyway. I’m mad that you didn’t protect me when they abused me, even when you had to have known how bad it had gotten.”
A cluster of snow toppled from a bare tree, sending Vezzali into my arms.
“Rude.”
I stroked his head and carried him as I marched back and forth, as if Dad had been the one to almost douse him in snow.
“I have every right to be mad about these things. You should’ve protected me. No matter how much you wanted that family, I’m your family, too. I loved you, too. I deserved to be protected.”
I wanted to cry.
To laugh.
To scream.
But mostly, my energy plummeted.
I sank to the ground, sick of being mad, wanting to get everything off my chest so I could bury my anger with him.
“I’m mad that your idea of keeping me safe was shipping me across the world. Which is why I blame you for the fact that I couldn’t see you before you died. I’m mad that you broke your promise and missed my last match. And that the match ruined my life, and it never would’ve happened if you left Vera in the first place.”
My hand curled into a fist at my side. Vezzali barked, sensing my mood, lapping his tongue on my cheek.
“I’m just so freaking mad. Any time I think about it. Why didn’t you put me first when you were alive? Why did you wait until you died? Now all I have left are the memories, and they’re gone. Your belongings? Pawned. What I remember in my head? It’ll slip away with time, and I’m so scared.”
When my memories of you are gone, will I even remember what it’s like being loved unconditionally?
This was the problem with giving someone a piece of yourself. Once they left, you could never get it back.
I choked on my tears, realizing something I’d never noticed before.
“And most of all, I’m sorry you must have felt so alone. With a wife who hates you, stepdaughters who only wanted to use you, and the only person who loved you all the way across the world.”
The first snow of the day made landfall on my cheek. It melted against the heat of my emotions, falling to my chin like a teardrop.
I swiped it away, grabbed the flashcards and backpack, and rushed to the car with Vezzali before he froze.
In my Prius, I drove straight to Happy Swirls, setting Vezzali on top of an outdoor table. I sat on the bench. The same one Dad and I once sat on over a decade ago, coming up with a list of potential names for the cleaning company.
Dusty Divas and Minty Fresh (me).
Crystal Clear and New Beginnings (him).
At just five in the morning, the shop hadn’t opened. A few cars whizzed by, but overall, Vezzali and I enjoyed peace, quiet, and the beginnings of the sun cresting over the horizon.
I pulled out the flashcards and a matchbook, staring at the words I’d written on them at Dad’s grave.