Pain flashes across Dad’s features before it dulls to a distant sort of sadness.
“Until it wasn’t,” he repeats. “I always wanted to be the best father I could be for you all, Molly. Your mother and I just had different ideas about what the ‘best father’ looked like, about what your ‘best lives’ could be. I wanted...I wanted to be everything she was looking for, but I needed you to have a father who stuck to his guns and fought for his passion. I needed you to have an example of that in your lives.”
“She said you loved shrubs more than you loved us.” My voice is thick. “I heard her tell you that one time.”
He reaches for my hand beside him. “I don’t love anything more than I love you, Molly Polly. I hope you know that.”
All I can do is squeeze his hand back as a sudden burning sensation pricks my eyes.
I know.
“But I’ll tell you something else: even after everything that’s happened, I’m still thankful for all those golden days with your mother. I wouldn’t trade those for anything. I loved her, Molly. I really did. I hope if you get the same chance, you don’t pass it up because you’re scared. I hope you make that first move, just like your mom did.”
We sit there for a moment, his calloused, weather-beaten hand in mine, before he lets out a low whistle.
“Whew. That got heavy for a game of Go Fish, didn’t it, Molly Polly? Maybe we should take an intermission. I have something for you in the fridge.”
He gets up and starts shuffling around in the kitchen. I know exactly what’s coming next.
“Aw, dad, you didn’t have to,” I call to him. “I thought you gave it up this year. Kenzie’s seventeen now. You don’t have to keep worrying I’m going to feel bad.”
“I want my Molly Polly to know she’s special too,” he sing-songs. “I thought it might be just you and me playing Go Fish tonight, so...”
He comes back to the living room holding a plate with my cupcake on it, the one he’s made for me every year since Kenzie was born. He decorates it differently each time, but he always makes sure I have my own little moment while everyone is busy celebrating my siblings.
This year he’s piped red, orange, and blue frosting into the shape of a goldfish on the cake.
“Go fish,” he jokes, setting the plate down in front of me. “Go fish, and see what you find.”
