Camryn Quinn is finally getting what she wants...sort of. Moving into a dorm and away from her not so supportive father is a good first step, but like everything with him, it comes with strings. She must attend the college of his choosing for at lea...
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Unexpectedly talking to Taylor has given me a newfound confidence, so it feels like a logical next step to confront my dad. Gabi promised I was strong, and having the power to not drag Taylor back to his hotel room and show him just how much I've missed him must mean I'm invincible.
My dad answers on the first knock looking like a bag of shit in a red polo. The circles under his eyes are deep and dark. He has a ballcap pulled down tightly on his head like he's trying to hide them. If he feels even a modicum of regret, he doesn't speak it. He doesn't say anything to me. Instead, he moves to the side and lets me into the room like he was expecting me even though I haven't returned his phone calls for days.
He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, while I walk straight to the windows. It's not a great view, but does peek into the park across the street. Except the midwestern weather has left the trees bare and a grayish cast over the sky.
"Anything to say?" I speak it into the glass. The confidence is still humming through my blood, but I feel like I need to use it sparingly to make it last.
"When you and Callan were about six, you used to beg me and your mom to put a tent in the backyard. You wanted to sleep outside, and swore the only way you could was in a tent." The pause he gives feels intentional, like he thought the little tidbit would make me turn around. Like him proving he remembers my childhood, that he remembers my mom will make it all better.
"After about three months we finally gave in. I remember calling your mom one night from the road. She said you played in the tent so long she had to bribe you with ice cream sundaes to get you inside for a bath." A small laugh escapes him, as if he's reliving the memory the way I am. Except he doesn't seem to know that she willingly gave us ice cream for dinner that night. She never had to bribe us. We would have done anything just because she asked. I'm sure she just knew my dad wouldn't have agreed with it.
"I finally got home around one in the morning and came to kiss you all goodnight like I always did," he says. It's a part of the memory I can't conjure up. Our current relationship leaves me incapable of believing he ever tried anything of the sorts. But he continues like it's the truth, "But your beds were empty. I couldn't even find your mom. I almost called the police, but then I found you. Do you know where?"
I'm still not ready to face him, so I shake my head and continue to stare at the window. The coldness seemed to seep in from outside. I wrap my arms more tightly around myself.
"I was standing at the kitchen sink and just happened to see a light on in that tent. When I got out there, there was a sign that read C2 + Mommy. Sure enough, the three of you were fast asleep."
"It was our club," I offer. I remembered the tent, but had forgotten all about the club we created. Back when Cal and I were inseparable, and our mom was a constant fixture in our lives. She always called us C squared, because where one twin went, the other followed. I was as certain that our club would always be around as I was about the sun setting each day. I remember feeling so lucky to have a mom who would go on any adventure we suggested, and never asked questions. Anyone who ever complained about their mom had it all wrong, because mine was the best. But then the sun set one day, and the darkness never left. Suddenly I had to live without the light. It never seemed to bother my dad and Callan. They're perfectly happy to live in a manufactured light and pretend it's the same.
"Your mother loved you two more than anything. You were the greatest thing to ever happen to her."
The tears lining my eyes aren't for him, which is exactly why I turn around to face him. My mom wouldn't want me to hide them from him, and I want my dad to see what his story has done to me. "That story is about four years too late."
"I don't know what to say to you, Camryn."
"That's always been the problem, right? You just never knew the right thing to say. Did you ever consider that I didn't need to hear the right thing, I just needed to hear something?"
His head falls into his hands, and I'm forced to watch as he uses the heel of his palms to scrub at the exhaustion in his eyes. "I loved your mother more than life itself," he says. "I lost a piece of myself, you know? We were a team...I didn't always know how to make up for her half when she died."
"That's the problem? You loved her? Well I still love her. I will always love her. Her body wasn't even cold before you moved on! Do you know how unhealthy that is? Or how fucked up it made me feel when you treated her like a secret we weren't allowed to talk about? You never brought her up, and you made us feel like we couldn't either. You pushed us away when we needed you the most. I've spent years hating you for letting me feel so alone. And then when you finally looked at me, you just threw money at the problem to make it go away. Like always, you chose the easy fix...Well dad, that's not an option this time. It may be for you, but it's not for me."
"We can't live in the past, Carmyn." His tone is dental floss thin. "I think it would do you some good to follow that advice."
"That's what you're going with? You've kept me trapped in the past for a year and a half now! I finished treatment. I made it to a point in therapy where I was able to walk away because I'm stable. I weaned off my meds. I'm taking the steps to better myself, to actually do something with my life. You're the one who can't see me for anything other than my mistakes."
My dad gets to his feet and crosses the room. His finger is in my face before I even have the chance to blink. "You made your choices and have to live with them. I will not apologize for taking the actions to make sure you're not fucking it all up!"
"Who's life are you worried about me fucking up, dad? Because I've accepted that every choice has a consequence. You're the one who would rather keep hiding from the truth."
"You have to stop fighting your offense, Camryn. A family is a team just as much as your mother and I were. Everything that I have done for you and your brother is what I thought was best," he says, retreating back to the bed. He doesn't sit this time, but he looks like he might collapse onto it at any second. Even faced with the reality of the situation, of the weight of every single feeling I've endured, he still can't admit that he's wrong. He'd rather go down swinging than admit fault in any of it.
"A team's best offense is its defense," I say, throwing the reference back at him. "And right now I have to choose my defense. I have to choose myself over this family. Someday, when you're actually ready to face the music—you and Cal both, I'll be there. I would love nothing more than to be there because it's what mom would want. It would kill her to see us ripped apart, but I can't fix it if you're not willing. And I can't sit around and let you continue to treat me like a possession, either."
The steps I take to leave the room feel both liberating and hollow. Unlike with Taylor, I know I won't hear from my dad. He hates nothing more than having his own flaws pointed at him like a weapon. Even if an ounce of my hurt registered with him, he won't change them just because I want him to.
I've known that truth for a while now. It was actually my first big breakthrough after The Incident. Part of feeling like the burden of my family stemmed from putting their grief on my shoulders. I was trying to feel it for them, and when their feelings didn't match my own I lashed out in a drastic way. But the program at Hope House helped me realize that I could only heal myself. That I had to advocate my needs, and let others tell me theirs. I learned that grief isn't linear. We don't all show it in the same pattern, and it doesn't hit us in the same waves. I guess a part of me just thought that enough time had passed, that maybe my dad had finally addressed it.
Although I've found my path of feeling okay, my dad hasn't. Until he's willing to at least try, this pattern is never going to change with us. The only difference this time is that I'm accepting that. This time I know I'll be okay without him.
