How (Not) to Fall in Love(39)

He shook his head. “I’m not sure what to think.”

A spark of anger flared in my chest. What was wrong with the adults in my life? Was I the only person who could read between the lines?

“It’s impossible to live up to my reputation. (Translation: I can’t do this Harvest BS anymore.) People have made me larger than life. I’m just a man. A regular man. I don’t have all the answers. (Translation: I am a total fraud.) I don’t know if I have any answers at all. People are better off following their own advice, not mine. (Translation: I am quitting. And I’m not coming home. Ever.)”

“What’s not to understand?” I snapped. “He’s bailing.” I glared at Charlie. “He’s not coming back.”

Charlie leaned against the booth and sighed loud enough to make Pinky glance at us. “I don’t know what he’ll do, Darcy. I don’t think even he knows what’s next.”

Outrage fanned the anger spark to a furious flame. “So my mom and I are supposed to just sit around waiting, while our lives get worse by the day? We’re supposed to wait for him to decide we’re worth coming home to?”

Charlie flinched. “You and your mom are worthy of a lot more than you’re getting right now.” He reached across the table and clasped my hands. He had Dad’s hands, only not. Charlie’s were rough with calluses. Dad’s were always smooth and manicured. “Will you let me help you, Darcy?” Charlie asked, his eyes full of love and concern.

I stared at Dad’s loopy handwriting on the postcard. What could Charlie possibly do to fix any of this? Send a tractor beam out to find my dad and plunk him back into his Harvest offices, raring to go? Find an extra million bucks lying around the thrift store to bail us out?

The fire in me sputtered and died. Charlie was one of the only good things in my life right now. It wasn’t fair to take out my anger on him.

“Just hanging out with you and Liz is enough,” I whispered. “It’s more than enough. It’s keeping me going right now.”

Charlie’s hands squeezed tight around mine. “I want to do so much more.” He swallowed. “I’ve called your mom a few times. She hasn’t called me back.”

Did you call in the evening? I wanted to ask. She was probably passed out drunk or hadn’t bothered to listen to her voicemail.

Out loud I said, “She’s working a crazy schedule with the real estate business. I never know when she’s going to be home.” Or awake. Or sober.

Charlie nodded. “I’m sure she’s overwhelmed by everything and doing all she can.”

I fiddled with my side salad, not daring to look at Charlie. I didn’t want to talk about Mom. “Charlie, there’s something I don’t understand. Something I’ve been wanting to ask you, but I’m not sure how.”

“I hope you know you can ask me anything.”

I nodded. “It’s about my dad. And you. I don’t understand how…” I took a breath and started again. “You don’t seem mad at him at all. But he rejected you. He stopped inviting you to our house when I was just a kid, but you made Liz listen to his CDs. You’ve even said you like some of his Harvest stuff. If I were you, I’d be really angry. And hurt.”

Charlie rubbed his beard, then met my gaze. “You certainly have a right to ask all this, Darcy.” He gave me a small smile. “I’m glad you did. It just confirms something about you.”

“What’s that?”

“You have a seeker’s soul, Darcy. Like me.”

“A seeker? Me?”

He smiled again. “Yes. You want to know why. You don’t like easy answers.”

I nodded. “I don’t have much patience for BS. Especially now.”

He chuckled. “So I won’t give you any.” He steepled his hands, watching me closely. “Your dad and I were very different as kids. We were both smart. But he was the popular one. The athlete and the scholar. I was the hippie.” He grinned. “You probably figured that out.”

I laughed softly. “Yeah.”

“So when it was time for college, your dad headed off in a glorious blaze of scholarships and big dreams. I was a year behind him. After I graduated high school, instead of going to college I took some time off. I stayed in a monastery. It was a silent order, so I didn’t talk for three months.”

My eyes widened. “No way.”

“Way.” He grinned. “Then I spent some time in a Buddhist retreat center. I learned how to meditate. I still do it every day.”

“Maybe I should try that,” I muttered, thinking of my anxiety balloon.

“I highly recommend it,” Charlie said. “What I’m trying to say is that I understand the desire to go on a quest for meaning, which is what I think your dad is doing.”

I stared at Charlie for a long time. I thought of the many hours Dad and I had spent in the sacred space of our personal Stonehenge. That I’d destroyed. Was he trying to regain that sense of peace? Had he stopped believing in Harvest? Was he looking for a new lodestar to follow?

“But what about when I was a kid?” I asked. “All those years we never saw you? Aren’t you mad at him for practically disowning you?”

Charlie took a long breath. “I forgave your dad long ago, Darcy. I’ve always believed that some day he and I will reconnect. I still think we will.” He paused. “Especially now.”