“She has always preached this to me. Grandpa too. That everyone who comes into your life is for a reason. And she happens to think…you, Wyatt, are my reason.” I made eye contact with him and stared, not willing to turn away. Our eyes stayed locked onto each other.
“Dear, I am going to go inside, the heat is getting to me.”
I moved to the white rocking swing that had been hanging on the far corner of the porch my entire life and Wyatt followed me.
I began rocking and he put his arm behind me. We were completely silent, listening to the creaking of the old wood as we swung back and forth. I feared I might have said too much. Maybe his reaction would be a sign of me feeling too strongly.
Wyatt leaned in and grabbed my face lightly, moving mine to his. He held it there for a few seconds and then kissed me. I closed my eyes and took it in. The shade was predominately on that part of the house, and it made for a perfect moment. We continued rocking with our feet pushing us off, without taking our lips off of each other. When we finally parted, the swing was continuing to move but neither of us was pushing our feet off.
“Breigh, about what you said about being the reason…”
“I know, it is a lot so fast…I…”
“I hope I am the reason for you to be happy, to never have to deal with all the things you have had to deal with in your life. But I want you to love me, because you truly love me. I’ve already felt far more than I ever thought I could again, but…”
“No, but…I know it’s a lot.”
“I’m just saying, give me some time.” He looked at me, judging my reaction.
I shook my head, confirming I understood, but was speechless on what else I should say. I surely didn't want to rush into anything, but I did want him to know he was special, that we really did have something.
“I’m sure Grammy needs some help.” I began to stand up in front of the swing slowly, so it wouldn't send him backward.
He reached for my hand and pulled me down on his lap. “I have never felt so strongly about someone, Breigh. And I mean that. Please know how much I do want this.”
“I do too.”
I had a lump in my throat, and felt for the first time a man was being honest with me, something I certainly wasn't familiar with, uncharted territory.
Every word out of Wyatt’s mouth meant a lot to me. I hated to admit that I believed him.
13
BREIGH
I had knocked on my dad’s door for over fifteen minutes. Frankly, I was shocked the door was still standing. Normally I used my key, but it had been dead bolted. The lock had barely held on. I guess it was better that way instead of just left wide open, which had happened more times than not.
“Dad, I’m leaving in five more minutes. I don't have the time to keep doing this. I have places to go,” I said loud and sternly. He had called and asked if I could stop by. When I asked for what, he said he would tell me once I got there. It wasn't abnormal for his behavior to do this, and I felt like I was going to be walking into something I knew I was going to dislike. Normally it was something he needed, money, or he was an emotional mess wanting to talk about Mom. In that scenario it always ended with him hating me, blaming me. It was safe to say I had my guard up.
With my last attempt I knocked loudly and even kicked the bottom of the door, showing my frustration. I decided to walk around to the back porch and found the sliding glass door wide open.
I entered cautiously, running all the different ways I had seen him through the years in my mind. Naked, passed out just about everywhere in the house, asleep on the toilet, on the couch with a cigarette in his hand that had burned through his clothes and the part of the couch he was sitting on. He had done some crazy stuff.
“Dad…”
“Yes, darlin'. Come on in. I’ll be there in just a second.” He sounded sober. And he was in the kitchen? A smell had filled the air and for once it wasn't a smell of stale cigarettes or week-old beer. And let me tell you, that was not a good smell. Smelled like rot from the inside out, gag in your mouth.
I sat at the little bar area that met his modest kitchen. Surprisingly, the place was in much better shape than I was used to seeing.
“Do you want something to eat? I made two omelets, just in case.”
“You cooked?”
“And I also have some fresh coffee brewing. Or would you prefer some hot tea?”
I smiled, thrilled to see my father was sober, and trying to be a normal human. I hadn't seen this but two other times in my twenty-eight years.
“Some coffee would be great. I’m not hungry though. Thank you.”
He passed over the coffee and the creamer. “It just occurred to me that I have no idea how my only daughter takes her coffee.”
I smiled. What was he up to?
“So what is going on, Dad? Not that I’m not happy to see how good you are doing. I’ve prayed for this for a long time. It is a long time coming.”
“I wanted you to be the first to know that I have started outpatient rehab. I haven't had a drink in three days, and I’m feeling great. I have started to go to AA meetings and want to make this change in my life.
