Mr.Brightside

Chapter 16

Jack

The days following our talk in the park were filled with a quiet anticipation. The idea of starting a family had moved from abstract to tangible, and it began to influence the way I looked at everything. Every decision, every plan we made, carried the weight of this new possibility. But with that weight came a sense of purpose that I hadn't felt before.

Facing the Past

It had been a few days since I talked to my dad, and I couldn't stop thinking about our conversation. There was something about it that felt unresolved, like an itch that wouldn't go away. I knew what I had to do-I needed to see him. I needed to talk to him face-to-face, to try and bridge the gap that had formed between us over the years.

I told Clara about my decision one evening as we were making dinner together. She was slicing vegetables, and I was stirring a pot of pasta, the simple rhythm of our movements a comforting routine.

"I think I'm going to drive out to see my dad this weekend," I said, trying to sound casual but knowing she could sense the undercurrent of anxiety in my voice.

Clara paused, her knife hovering over a carrot. She looked at me, her eyes soft with understanding. "I think that's a good idea, Jack. It'll be good for both of you."

I nodded, grateful for her support. "Yeah. I just feel like there's still so much left unsaid between us. I don't want to carry that with me anymore."

She smiled, a small, reassuring smile that made my chest tighten with love for her. "I know it's not easy, but you're doing the right thing. And no matter what happens, you're taking a step toward healing."

Her words gave me strength, and I knew she was right. It wouldn't be easy, but it was necessary.

The Drive to Reconciliation

Saturday morning, I packed an overnight bag and prepared for the drive. It wasn't a long trip, just a few hours, but it felt like I was going much farther. I kissed Clara goodbye, her hug lingering just a little longer than usual.

"Good luck," she whispered, her voice filled with encouragement.

"Thanks," I replied, giving her one last squeeze before heading out the door.

The drive was uneventful, but my mind was anything but calm. I kept running through different scenarios in my head, wondering how the conversation would go. Would my dad be receptive? Would we end up arguing? Or would we find some common ground, something to build on?

When I finally pulled up in front of my parents' house, I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. The house looked the same as it always had, a modest suburban home with a well-kept lawn and flower beds that my mom tended to meticulously. It was strange, how familiar and yet distant it felt.

I walked up to the front door and rang the bell, feeling a mix of anticipation and dread. A few moments later, my mom opened the door, her face lighting up with a warm smile when she saw me.

"Jack, it's so good to see you," she said, pulling me into a hug.

"It's good to see you too, Mom," I replied, hugging her back. There was something comforting about her embrace, a reminder that no matter how much time had passed, this was still home in some way.

She led me inside, and I could hear the faint sound of the television coming from the living room. My dad was sitting in his usual spot, the remote in one hand, flipping through channels. When he saw me, he set the remote down and stood up, looking slightly surprised but not unfriendly.