A Missing Heart(27)

“I’m ready,” I tell him.

“Your mom can’t say the same,” he says. Walking into my room, Dad sits down on the bed and pulls me down next to him. “You’re her baby. Always will be.” He leans forward and places his elbows on his knees, holding his fists beneath his chin. “I’m not going to lie, kid, I’m having a hard time with this too. Our house is going feel so empty with you both gone at school. At least when Hunter left, we still had you to torture.” He nudges his shoulder into mine, “But now it’s just going to be your mother nagging at me all the time.”

“That’s the real reason you don’t want me to leave, isn’t it?” I joke.

“Yes, it is.” He looks over at me with a raised brow and places his arm around my shoulders. “I just don’t know when this all happened. It seems like yesterday that you were coloring on the wall with a Sharpie.”

“And until you paint that wall, you will always have that memory,” I say, grinning proudly.

“I haven’t painted it for a reason, Son.”

“I’m less than two hours away. I’m going to come home and visit, you know?”

“Of course you will, but I don’t want you to worry about us. I want you to experience everything college has to offer. Live your life as if you almost didn’t get the chance to live this life.” Our eyes are locked in a stare down without words in between. I want to think his words have a different meaning than the way I’m absorbing them, but what else could he mean by that?

“What do you mean? I thought this was my plan all along. Graduate high school and go to college.” I ask, maybe sounding a little uneasy through the words I’m trying to affirm.

“We all make mistakes, AJ. Sometimes our mistakes cause ripples in our paths, sometimes they cause forks in the road, and sometimes they cause delaying detours, but then there are those lucky times when you bypass it all and continue down the planned route.” He knows. He knew at graduation. Why wouldn’t he just come out with it?

With the slightest bit of hope that this is a coincidence and he’s simply offering me one of his Dad lectures, I nod and lean forward, mirroring his posture. “I’m going to miss you, Dad.”

He wraps his arm back around me and pulls me in tightly. Dad’s body trembles a little and his grip tightens more. With his hand around my head, he places a kiss on my forehead. “I’m always here for you, kid. Even if you get drunk or do something stupid out there, you call me and I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

“You always have been,” I tell him, feeling the same amount of anguish I think he might be feeling right now. Anytime I thought about this day, I saw it as an exciting moment in my life. I pictured it as me driving off in my beat-up truck with my hand waving out the window as Mom and Dad wave in the reflection of my rearview mirror. Suddenly, though, it’s like the world just opened up before me, and I’m scared as hell to get into my truck.

“Orientation starts in four hours. You don’t want be late. They might run out of maps or something,” Dad laughs, slapping me on the back a few times. “I’ll give you another minute. Just remember, though, when you walk out of this bedroom, you’re saying goodbye to your childhood and hello to the rest of your life. It’s pretty damn exciting, AJ.”

Hiding his face on the way out, he leaves me alone in my room—alone with my thoughts on what he just said. It’s like I’m hovering between two lives and it’s time to make that jump now.

I take my phone from my pocket and start a text message to Cammy.



Me: This is it. I’m off to Rhode Island. Thinking of you.



A few seconds pass when a return message comes in.



Cammy: At the dining hall with my friends. Talk later?



This is how the last dozen or so conversations between us have been. I know what it means.



Me: Whenever you’re ready.



I grab my last bag and fling it over my shoulder. Walking backward toward the door, I silently say goodbye to my childhood, just as Dad said. It’s like this movie playing through my head, and I can see years of my life sitting in this room, from as far back as I can remember. Those days are over now.

With each step down the stairs, I feel the pressure in my chest build, knowing I’m walking away from everything that has ever been comfortable, and toward the unknown. Mom is at the bottom of the stairs with a tissue in her hand and tears dripping from her eyes. “I tried so hard to convince myself to be happy for you, AJ, but I’m going to miss you so much,” she says, choking up. “You know, you spend every day from the moment your child is born telling yourself you have time, nothing but time, and I said that every day since the moment you were born, but now you’re a grown man and my time feels like it’s up.”

Selfishly, all I can think is that she got eighteen whole years. I only got eighteen minutes with my daughter. “It’s been a good eighteen years, Mom, and I’m still your son, always will be.” And my daughter will always be my daughter too, no matter who she’s living with.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, Mom presses up on her toes and wraps her arms around my neck. “You’re a brave man, AJ. Strong, good…so much good fills your heart.”