Rick's hand was outstretched, beckoning me, and I hurried over to take it.
"You heard," I said.
His eyes were sad, but smiled the half-smile that was now so thoroughly his. "Hard not to."
I nodded, swallowing down my emotions.
"Sit with me." He nodded to Sophie behind me, and she nodded back, leaving the room and closing the door behind her.
I sat on the edge of his bed, and he squeezed my hand.
"Give him time."
The sun poured in through the window, a slant of light that served as a stage for dancing dust motes. "We've had seven years, and it hasn't gotten any easier or simpler."
"No, I suppose it hasn't. But it's different now, wouldn't you say?"
"It is different. It's harder. When he was gone, it was easier to miss the idea of him than to face the reality of him. He … he hates me. He hates what I did, what I'm doing, what I've done with my life."
Rick shook his head. "No, Elliot. He loves you, and that love hurts him because he regrets everything."
My breath shuddered as I inhaled, my eyes on our hands, his old and mine young.
"He punishes himself by pushing you away. It's easier to believe he can't have you, easier to think you're out of reach, because if he can have you, he'll have to deal with his regrets, his mistakes. He'll have to deal with his grief."
"It's too much," I whispered.
"Elliot, look at me."
I met his eyes, eyes that pleaded with mine. "He loves you. He always has, just as you've always loved him. Please, don't give up. He needs you now, and he'll need you even more when I'm gone."
Tears slipped down my cheeks as I wondered how, wondered if it were true, if patience were all I needed. Because I could give him time if he loved me. I could withstand the push and pull if he loved me.
I would give him anything if he loved me.
Rick reached for my face, brushing my cheek with his knuckles. "Don't do it for me. Do it for you. I know … I know you will find your way back to each other, back to yourselves after being lost for so long. And you're the only one who can bring him back, Elliot. I … I don't know how he'll survive this without you."
"Rick …" A sob swallowed my words, tears blurring my vision, and I blinked to push them out of the way so I could see him.
"Don't cry. Please. You will live long after me, and you will do great things. And I will live forever here," he cupped my head. "I know you'll miss me, but remember what I said — I want you to live. Honor me with that life and keep me alive. Don't be afraid. Because you are braver than you know."
I shook my head. "You've given me hope and purpose. You've shown me what it means to be loved and cared for, and I don't know what I'll do without you."
"You have Sophie and Wade. This house will stand here, waiting for you. This room will remain just as it is, as it has been for a hundred years, and you will come here and remember. You are loved and cared for, with or without me. So please, don't break or bend. Don't crumble and fall. Stand up tall and face the sun and remember me."
I was left without words, so I curled into his chest, the father I'd always wished for, the man I admired so much, and I cried with his arm around me until I was empty.
15
Wandering Voices
So simple:
Breathe in, breathe out,
The motion never considered
Until it's gone.
* * *
-M. White
* * *
Wade
The lawyer's hand gripped mine the next morning, firm and solid and despondent as we shook in parting after several hours of signing papers. The final adjustments to his will. The deed to the house, which as of that moment was mine. The guardianship papers for Sadie, who wouldn't be eighteen for another year. The power of attorney for Dad. The Do Not Resuscitate.
I was numb from the battering of emotions, past the point of being able to discern how I felt about anything, my soul burned to ash.
The door closed with a click, the house quiet, everyone gone. I hadn't seen Elliot since I'd blown out of the house the day before; she was gone by the time I could bring myself to come back. I was thankful for her absence, thankful and sorrowful and full of regret.
I would see her again tonight, and I had no idea how to handle it. The ground I'd gained, I'd lost just as quickly. And I was angry. Angry at her, at Jack, at myself, at life. At the universe for stripping me of the things I wanted most in the world.
No one was home but me and Dad — everyone had gone to run errands for our Italy date, knowing he and I would need some time with the lawyers, with each other.
As I walked back into the library, I saw him with fresh eyes — the slightness of his frame, the exhaustion written in the lines of his face, his eyes laden with the weight of the day, of the days before, of the sickness inside of him.
I pulled his blanket up when I made it to his side. "Want to sleep for a bit?" I asked gently.
"In a little while." He laid his hand over mine.
I sat on the edge of his bed so I could be close to him.
He cleared his throat and blinked slowly before turning his head to face me. "There are too many things to feel. I don't know how to sort through them all."
"Neither do I." My words were rough, burning my throat.
"Sadness and fear. Worry for you, for your sisters. Guilt for the burden I'll leave you with. Is it strange that I think more about you than I do myself? I think about what happens when I'm gone, and that hurts me more than the thought of not existing."
"Don't worry about us, Dad. We'll be fine," I lied, my mask firmly in place for him. I would do anything for him.