“Yes, honey, that’s yours.”
For the next half hour, we continue to open up the gifts. Olivia opens up a set of cooking utensils, a new candle that smells like cookie dough, and a heated blanket. “How did she have gifts for me if she didn’t know I was coming?” she asked.
“Nonni has a slight shopping addiction. There’s a room full of random items she uses for gifts, and she had some perfect things in there just for you,” I reply, leaning into her and pressing a small kiss to her cheek.
“It’s like I was meant to be here all along,” she whispers back at me.
“You were, Cupcake.”
I scored some heated gloves, which are always nice to have, a new grill set, and a beanie that has a headlamp and Bluetooth speakers built in. “That looks handy,” my dad said before studying his own gifts.
“I’m going to help your grandmother prepare brunch,” Olivia says, nudging her chin toward my dad, silently telling me to spend some time with him. I give her a nod and turn in my chair to face him.
“Want to play a round of rummy with those new cards you got?”
He gives me a tired smile. “I’d like that.”
There is a knock on the front door after brunch. Nonni, Dad, his nurse, Olivia, and I are all that is left in the house. Everyone else has left for the day, so hearing a knock on the door has us all puzzled. I raise a hand for Nonni to stay seated.
“I’ll get it,” I say as I stand up from the table.
The hardwood floor creaks under my feet as I walk across the living room and open the door to see Mom, Raine, and Raine’s mother standing on the front porch. I’m shocked to see them. I had no idea they were coming.
“Mom?” I say more like a question, studying the three familiar faces before I step aside and motion for them to come inside.
“Raine!” Olivia says from behind me and rushes to Raine, wrapping her into a tight embrace. “You’re here.”
My throat feels tight as I approach Mom and give her a hug. I’m thankful for the sense of comfort and protection she carrieswith her everywhere she goes. I place my cheek on top of her head, feeling relieved that she’s here.
“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 himsomething, 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.
