When We Were Wildflowers

Chapter 21 - Regrets

The setting sun paints the evening sky magenta with splashes of burnt orange when I sneak into the open garage and lean my bike against the wall. Swimming in the lake with Poppy and the boys was so exhilaratingly fun, but coming back home is a huge letdown. There's no happiness here, just awkward silence and sadness suppressed under forced smiles. I take a deep breath and prepare myself.

Entering silently through the laundry room, my plan is to peel off my clothes and grab a pair of clean ones before disappearing upstairs to my room. So far so good, until I hear Dad's muffled voice in the office next door when I'm dropping my soggy t-shirt and shorts into the basin of the washing machine. I grab the first thing I can find, Dad's velvety burgundy robe, off the top of a neatly stacked pile of laundry resting in a basket on the dryer and make my escape.

As I approach the open door to Dad's office, I hold my breath and tip toe past.

"Violet, is that you?"

I freeze. Shoot. "Yeah, just passing through."

"Come on in here for a second, honey. I want to talk." Dad's voice is as warm and loving as ever.

I pop my head in the doorway. "What's up?"

Dad is sitting at the desk in front of his work laptop with his arms folded. There are bags under his eyes and he hasn't shaved today. "Is that my robe you're wearing?"

So much for my foolproof plan. I never am any good at sneaking around or lying. "It is. I was wet, so I put my clothes in the wash and grabbed this."

"Oh, did it rain again? I've been so busy today I didn't even look outside." Dad takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. A large band aid is stuck to his forehead, a reminder of the car accident and all the wreckage it caused. "Come have a seat. I want to talk to you."

My stomach clenches, sending a wave of tension through my body. I don't want to be in the same room with him. Not anymore. Not after what he did. "No thanks. I think I'll just head upstairs. I have a lot of homework."

"Violet, please don't go."

Sighing in defeat, I backtrack and walk right into his office, plopping myself on the empty chair across from his desk. "What do you want?" The tone of my voice is so disrespectful, even I am taken by surprise. I never talk to him like that.

The blood drains from Dad's face until his beige skin is porcelain white. "I know you're angry and this is hard. I'm so sorry, but I have to do what is best."

"You mean what's best for you?" I cross my arms and look away at my parents' framed diplomas we only hung on the wall two weeks ago. "Seems to me all you ever do is think of yourself."

"Where is this coming from, Violet?" Dad shakes his head in disbelief. "You never talk to me this way."

Tears burn in the corners of my eyes. "I know, Dad. I know why you're leaving, and I hate it. I hate you for this." I wipe my searing hot tears on the sleeve of his robe.

Dad is speechless for a whole five seconds until deflates like a balloon and slumps onto the desk with his head in his hands, utterly dejected. "I am not a perfect person. I made a mistake. For years I was unhappy, and I recently found happiness in the wrong place. Please forgive me, Violet. I was weak."

"Weak?" My voice trembles as I unleash my fury. "You were selfish and you broke Mom... damn near shattered her to pieces. She doesn't know that I know, but I heard her crying to herself that night. Our family is broken because of you. Life will never be the same, and I will never look at you the same way, Daddy."