“A lot has happened since we last saw each other. Your mother went through my cellphone and saw how much I’ve been hiding from her. She understands now how bad things are, how terribly I’ve been treating people, treating you. She kicked me out.”
I’m stunned. “Why don’t I know about this?”
“Because she said we should allow you to enjoy your summer without us ruining it. Me ruining it. I wanted to call on your birthday, apologize for everything I’ve done, but she told me not to. She said that you deserve time and space to heal from the damage that I’ve done to our family.”
I don’t say anything at first. I don’t know if it’s because he’s caught me so off guard I’m not sure what to say, or if my instincts are telling me to wait for the other shoe to drop. For him to reveal what his true intentions are.
“So why are you here now? I don’t have any money for you and you can’t stay with me. There isn’t anything I can give you.”
“I don’t want anything, Russ,” he says. “I’m just here to talk. I think we can agree that I’ve taken enough from you already. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, burned a lot of bridges. I regret a lot of things, but there’s nothing that I regret more than the hurt I’ve caused you, your mom and your brother.”
I know all humans have flaws and my dad lives every day knowing he’s shown every single one of his.
I know my experience isn’t the blueprint. It isn’t the cookie-cutter version of how things go. I’ve listened to the people whose parents were so attentive, so loving, so riddled with guilt for their actions that they never knew anything was wrong. My anger isn’t toward people with addiction issues. I’ve looked at the statistics, read the case studies, watched the heart wrenching personal tales of struggle and I’ve felt empathy. See, logical right?
My heart has always told me to say fuck logic. My dad shouldn’t have let it beat him; he should have fought harder. Not because he’s better than anyone else fighting invisible demons, but because he’s my dad. He’s mine and I needed him and he didn’t try and he didn’t even care. He served himself, his desires and his impulses and he kept serving himself until the anger and the regret and the resentment came like a tsunami—and when he let the waves engulf him, he dragged us all down with him.
I clear my throat, staring him directly in the eyes. I’m not a scared kid anymore, I don’t need to shrink in front of him. “I still don’t understand why you’re here, Dad.”
“The last time you saw me, you told me to sort my shit out. I wanted to see you in person to tell you that that’s what I’m going to do. I know that you probably don’t believe me or maybe things are so far gone that you don’t care. But I am going to fix things. I don’t want to live like this anymore. I want my family back. I want my life back. I want to be someone you can look up to again.”
I should be excited that he’s finally saying the things I’ve wanted to hear for so long. That he wants to change. That he knows things are bad. That he knows he’s hurt people. But all I can think about is how it’s a lot of words, said in the right order in a way that makes them feel real, but he’s always been good at that. That’s why it’s taken until now for Mom to see the light.
There’s a fine balance between dedication and desperation sometimes and that’s how I know Dad’s at the place the books call rock bottom. Addiction is a disease. A losing game. Everyone knows the house always wins. It might not be this hand, or even the next one. It might take one horse race or twenty. It might be that one last roll of the dice, but eventually the house will come to collect and when they cash out there will be nothing left.
I don’t think Dad has anything left and the realization makes my anger subside a little. “I hope you get it back, Dad. I do, honestly. But you can’t just declare you’re going to change; you have to act. You have to make a conscious effort to seek help and remove the temptations from your life.”
“I will,” he says adamantly.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
Rubbing my fingers against my temple, I try not to sigh because I don’t want him to think I’m dismissing him. “There are programs for people like you; I’ve read about them. They’re anonymous and they’re free. You should look into it, there’s always flyers on noticeboards around town.”