“Are you married? Do you have kids?” I blurted out.
He smiled. “No, and no. No other woman could hold a candle to your mother.”
That sent a flutter of warmth to my chest.
“My turn,” he said, stretching wider as he settled into a comfortable position. “I heard you play the violin. Is that true?”
His question caught me off guard, leaving me momentarily speechless. How could he possibly know? My brow furrowed. “Yes, I do. But how…?” I let the question hang in the air, then added. “Do you play?”
He crossed his leg over the other, his hand loosely clasped around his ankle. “I play the piano.”
“Really?“ A smile broke across my face. “Mom played the violin and the piano too.”
Alphonse’s eyes drifted, a subtle smile gracing his lips. He nodded slowly. “I know. I taught her how to play.”
“I remember her telling me that someone special taught her how to play, and she wanted to pass that knowledge on to me,” I said, the memory bringing a rush of bittersweet nostalgia.
The corners of his mouth drooped, his smile melting into an expression of profound sadness. “Looking at you now, how beautiful you’ve grown... I missed out on so much. I wasn’t there for your first steps, your birthdays, every holiday celebration, and each of your violin recitals.” He paused, the weight of his words hanging between us.
“It’s a regret I will carry for the rest of my life. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me,” he said, the words catching in his throat.
Hearing his raw honesty broke something deep inside me.
My own lips trembled, and I had to swallow hard before I could speak. “There’s nothing to forgive,” I said honestly. “I now understand the life you and Mom were born into. You did what you needed to do to keep her safe, to keepmesafe. I’ll forever be thankful for the time I had with Mom, but I also wish you’d been there to make memories with us.”
“That starts today,” he declared with unshakeable conviction.
I turned my gaze away, wrestling with my emotions as I fought to keep from shattering into a puddle of despair.
“Was she happy?” he asked, drawing my focus back to him.
I offered a genuine smile. “I think she was for the most part, but a part of me always felt there was always something missing. And now I know why.”
It was him. My father was everything to my mother, based on the letters she left behind.
The light returned to his face at my words. I could see how much she meant to him.
“Thank you for coming for me.”
“I would do anything for you.”
And I believed him.
“Just one more step, Gigi,” my physical therapist encouraged.
One more step my ass. My legs felt like I was stuck in a cartoon, running in place like the Flintstones, all while I wanted to slap the smile off her face.
“You’ve got this. Don’t give up now,” she chirped, unfazed by my internal cry for help.
With the gait belt around my waist, she gently nudged me forward toward the chair. I felt like a baby giraffe trying to find its footing, awkward and wobbly. But somehow, I managed that final step.
“You did it!” Her smile was so bright it was blinding, but I found myself smiling back.
“Okay, now let's walk back to the bed.”
I gaped at her, mouth hanging open like a caught fish. “Are you serious?” I shot a glance toward the bed, then back to my feet, still firmly planted. There was no way in hell I was walkingagain after feeling like I had just run away from a serial killer. My ass was going to sit on that chair.
She met my incredulous stare with a patient expression. “I didn’t say right now. But it’s the only way you’re going to gain your strength back.”
