Robert
“I don’t know what you were thinking.” My father’s voice drones on from behind his desk. I can barely focus on him and his tirade. The deep ache that’s etched into my chest refuses to leave. There’s no soothing it, only distractions. It’s just as it was years ago, back when I lost her the first time.
My father’s back is to me as he stares out of the large paned window in his office. Turning to look over his shoulder, he shakes his head in disappointment and then his brow furrows, his attention taken by something in the backyard. The dogs, most likely.
“Marriage,” he scoffs. The knife digs in deeper. There’s no doubt now it wasn’t just time that Magnolia needed. Swallowing thickly, I rid myself of the image of Brody and the way he looks at her … and the way she stares back at him.
Breathing in deep, I catch a hint of the tobacco that creeps from the humidor in the corner of his old office. “Seriously, Robert—” he continues and I lean back in the wingback chair. My thumb runs over a crack in the curved armrest as I interrupt him and say, “I was thinking I’d like her to marry me.”
That gets my father’s attention and earns me a stern, narrow gaze that eases just as quickly as it came. As I feel a sickening chill from the memory of the last time I sat in this office, suggesting she marry me, the color drains from my father’s face.
He may be a hard old man, but he knows what she means to me. Or at least I thought he did until he called this meeting.
“It wasn’t a good look—”
“I don’t care how it looked.” It was worth it. Anything I can do to hold on to her is worth it. However it looks, and however painful it is for her to turn me down.
“And it wouldn’t have been appealing even if she’d said yes.”
Appealing?
My jaw clenches, the back of my teeth grinding as I hold in every profane word I desperately want to spew at his opinion. The inclination to show respect is ingrained in me, even if there’s not an ounce of it sincerely present.
I don’t give a damn how it would have looked. For once, I just wanted her to love me and to know I’d have her forever. As much as the confession wishes to slip out, the deep-seated anguish I harbor keeps the thoughts from running away. She said no for a reason and somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew she would. I know she won’t ever choose me again. Accepting that truth is too heavy a burden.
One my father doesn’t seem to mind pointing out.
“Well, I think we both knew she wasn’t going to say yes.”
My knuckles turn white as I grip the armrest and answer him with only a nod.
“Then why go through with it?” My father’s exasperation isn’t hidden as he opens the window and whistles to get the dogs’ attention, scolding them for going into my mother’s garden. If the screen weren’t there, I have no doubt he would lean out of it.
I used to love being here. Not just in this office, but being home. It used to feel like that … like a home. Ever since my mother got sick and my father stepped back from work, it’s turned into a place of strategy, stale with disappointment.
“Did you even think about what that would do to your career?” There’s a hint of desperation, of a father urging his son to make the right choices. Years ago, I listened to that tone and clung to it with everything I had in me. That was before I realized that even if he thought it was right, it didn’t mean it was right for me.
“There’s a lot at stake in the next five years,” he says, finally taking his seat across from me and the dim light casts shadows on his face, making him look older than he is. The long days in the sun and years of smoking certainly didn’t do his youth any favors either.
“I am aware,” I comment, crossing my ankle over my knee and trying not to think about the state my father’s in. Taking care of my mother is practically a full-time job and he’s a stubborn man on the verge of losing everything. My mother to Alzheimer’s, his career because his time has been dedicated to her … and then there’s me.
“It would look good to have a family. Wouldn’t it?” I can’t help rebutting. With Magnolia and Bridget … “We’d make a good-looking family.” My voice lowers with the thought and I can’t hide the taste of the bitter pill I had to swallow in the last comment. It doesn’t go unnoticed by my father, and again the tension increases.
Ever since he told me to break up with Magnolia, things have been tense between us when she’s mentioned.
I understand why he did it. There was a scandal concerning her father about to break, and I couldn’t be attached to it so early into my political career. I was only twenty-one and had just gotten the internship that would set me on the right track. He was looking out for me, and I didn’t know which way the wind was blowing or what to even think. It wasn’t supposed to happen the way it did and had the plan worked, she would be my wife. I’d have that beautiful family with my first love. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
It was a temporary breakup. When she came home from college and the scandal had died down, I’d beg her to take me back. I still have fucking nightmares over that phone call. Hearing her voice hitch before she sobbed and being unable to tell her the truth shredded me. Knowing I was knocking over the first domino in a series where each one falling only cemented her hatred for me that much more.
I knew it would hurt, but I didn’t even give her a reason. In hindsight, maybe that made it worse. If my father hadn’t been in the room, I would have told her it was fake. I’d have made her promise to lie. As it stands, I did what I thought I had to do to protect her. It never should have happened at all. I shouldn’t have gambled with the only thing I ever wanted. I’m half a man without her.
“If I could go back, I would.” I utter the hard truth I’ve known since the second I ended that call. When other emotions threaten to take the forefront, I pinch the bridge of my nose as if it’s a headache and not regret that makes me do so.
“What you need to be doing is preparing your speech for the presentation on Monday,” my father says, diverting the conversation.
He’s only told me he was sorry once. I’m sorry every goddamn day of my life. Hurting her was meant to be a small sacrifice and would ultimately lead to saving her. My father promised it was for the best. Her name wouldn’t be mentioned if we weren’t together.
The papers called wanting a lead, and suggested my relationship with her father involved more than just dating his daughter. The angle of the article was that her father’s scheming was a family affair.
It didn’t just help me for my father to tell them we weren’t together any longer. It was to keep her name free of it all too, or so he said.
She wasn’t supposed to come home and bear the brunt of it. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Her father is a bastard for dying when he did.
“Show them around town, deliver your speech.” My father continues, emphasizing each action with a rap of his knuckles on the hard maple desk. “The next morning, you put that pressure on until they sign the deal.”
“I’m aware.”
“Good.” The single word is a strong indication this meeting is over, so I prepare myself to leave, to deal with everything else. An endless to-do list and emails that can’t wait. Unfortunately, my father’s tone softens and he asks, “Have you spoken to your mother?