The Broken Pieces Left Behind

Chapter 15

It was a good week. Nothing crazy had happened and that was always a good thing. Sara was in her "New Love Bliss" phase with Ari, who I'd yet to meet, who I didn't really want to meet if I was being completely honest. I knew the kind of men that she brought around so it would have been a surprise if he was actually a good guy.

It seemed like the restaurant incident was forgotten – at least on her part – so it wasn't really brought up. She was gone most days and got back late at night, only sparing me a quick hello or goodbye.

At work there was really nothing to do, so I left a little earlier than usual. It was on days like these, the good ones, where I missed my dad the most. It reminded me that he was no longer here to enjoy them and thoughts like those brought me down. So I found myself walking to the park.

It was busy. But I half expected that, it was a Saturday evening after all. I hadn't been here since the night I collapsed and Jack had to take me to the hospital. But that wasn't a memory I wanted to relive so I pushed it away and focused on the happy things.

A man ran in circles a toddler chasing him giggling. A woman sat on a blanket studying them and a smile pulled at the corner of my mouth. Noise surrounded me. It was a comforting kind. The kind that reminded me that I was alive.

I meandered along when the sound of boisterous laughter made me stop. There standing with a group of other people surrounding a park bench was Jack. He sat on the back of the bench, his feet on the seat, commanding the looks of those around him. I studied the way he was with his friends. Easy. Friendly.

Jack and I were different. He had been through something just as bad as I had, but instead of hiding himself away like I did, he embraced life. He embraced the possibilities that there could be more to things if you just stopped fighting and let it happened. I envied that. I was scared of that.

Turning away from the crowd I walked along the stone path that I had walked so many times before, towards a time aged gazebo where the fondest memories of my childhood were formed. It was where the sweetest memories of my father lived.

The faded brown thatched roof was held up by four large handcrafted pillars that were being hugged by a wraparound banister. I ran my finger along the smooth wood as I climbed the four steps to the inside. The paint had long faded from white to cream, but in my memory it was forever white forever new, immortal in a sense.

Inhaling the fragrant evening air boasting that soon it would be summer and the nights would be warm, I sat on the wooden carved bench – a new addition to the gazebo – and greeted my dad sadly. It was here that I felt him the most, not where he was buried. The cemetery was too cold and gloomy and I could never imagine him there.

I hadn't been here in weeks and I sent him an apology. I would usually visit him maybe once a week, it was another form of therapy for me. Yes, I was a bunch of neuroses that required multiple forms of therapy. It had been a crazy few weeks to be sure. Sara could drive me crazy anywhere, and I believed that she tested that theory frequently, but not here.

Somehow every time I came here, I was fourteen again and my father was alive and I didn't have the adult responsibilities of a heavy sadness.

I could picture his happy face, my ears hanging onto every word that came from his lips. His warm eyes smiling at me, the corners crinkling making a warm glow swell in the pit of my stomach. I could almost hear his voice now, his laugh, smell his cologne. It was the closest to seeing him I could get get and I latched unto that with a fierce want.

"Becca."

I jumped when I heard his voice. He was always doing that. I had been so wrapped up in my memory that I hadn't noticed when he came up. I looked at him a little annoyed that he had invaded my memory, but still I had to admit that I liked that he was here. The spike in my heart rate told me that.