A Brush with Love(84)

“A man who wanted to heal. To serve. He was always so passionate about it. I fell in love with how much he loved his work. It felt special to be part of his world.”

Dan didn’t know what to say. He’d been detached from his father’s career, his research, his practice—it was a thing Dan was jealous of as a child and resentful of as an adult.

But he understood what his mom meant. He thought of Harper. Her ability and passion. It was impossible not to love the healing she held in her hands.

“When he was dying,” his mother continued, pushing through the wall that separated them, “I felt like the world was losing that man. Not the one we endured—not the bully at home—but the doctor who helped people. The one who traveled the world with his tools, who lectured at universities, who won humanitarian awards—that’s who I mourn, Daniyal.”

She looked at him with such intensity in her green eyes, Dan had to look away.

“Well, I’m glad the world got the best of him,” he said at last, taking a sip of his tea.

“I’m not.”

Dan’s eyes snapped back to her.

She took a shaky breath. “You deserved the best of him. We, his family, deserved the best of him, no?”

Dan wasn’t sure what to say, and they stayed silent for a few minutes.

“I’ve been putting my needs before yours,” she said, breaking the silence. Dan made a noise of protest, but she held up her hand to silence him.

“I have. I don’t know if I can forgive myself for it. Growing up, I was always told exactly what to do, who to be. I hated it. But before I knew it, I found myself married to a man who told me the same things. He told me not to specialize. He told me the hours to work. He told me where to be, what to do. I convinced myself that it was his way of caring for me. Caring for us as a family. And I certainly wasn’t the first woman to accept that her husband’s career should come first. I won’t be the last either.”

She blinked, turning her head to look out the window as she gathered her words. “I always promised myself that if I were to be a mother, my children would decide life for themselves. But after a lifetime of someone else dictating your actions, you lose faith in your ability to do anything on your own. When he died, it was the first time I was the only person in charge of myself, and it terrified me. I thought I would lose everything he’d worked for if I didn’t have someone to lead me. So I placed that burden on you.”

She wiped a stray tear from her cheek, then turned back to look at him. “Grief does scary things to people,” she said in a whisper. “It’s so powerful, it can change you, rewire everything you thought you knew. And I had so much grief. So much. I looked at the things that had been broken when your father died. Our family was a mess; he and I resented each other for so many things. I looked at these fractured pieces and some voice in my head told me, if I had listened better, been the wife he had expected, the type of mother he had told me to be, we wouldn’t be so broken.”

Dan was left speechless by the weight of everything she was unpacking.

After a few moments, she spoke again. “Daniyal, I want you to listen to me. I will never be able to tell you he was proud of you. I will never be able to make you believe he loved you, even though I think he did. Something in you—your spirit, your joy, I don’t know—it threatened him. It scared him to see those things in you because they were things he couldn’t find in himself.”

Farrah sniffled as she cried, and a few tears rolled down Dan’s cheeks. She took a steadying breath before continuing.

“His inability to know what an amazing son he had will always be his tragedy. But not mine. I love you. All I ask is you find happiness. You deserve it. Everyone does.”

Dan wiped a hand down his face.

“I’ve thought about it, and I’m selling the practice.”

Dan’s head jerked back. He’d have been less surprised if she’d just told him that every night she sprouts wings from her back and flies around as the tooth fairy.

“You are?” he finally asked, still in a state of shock. “But what about money? What about … everything?”

“I’ve talked with an accountant. I even hired a consultant. Everyone assures me the practice will sell well.” She was silent for a moment, lost in distant memories. “That had just never been an option before.”

“But what about the name? And Dad? That practice was everything to you two.”

Farrah stared at him. “That practice being everything is exactly why I need to let it go. Somewhere along the line, I got lost in his dreams, not my own. Work like this was never what I wanted. I never intended to have this kind of devotion to a building. To a man’s ambitions that weren’t my own. That was never supposed to be me.” She took a sip of tea. “I don’t want that to be you either.”

Farrah took his hands, hers aged and soft as she held on to his, stroking her thumbs across his knuckles. “It was wrong of me to do this to you, habibi. My grief was never your burden to bear. Your father’s visions were never yours to fulfill, and I’m sorry those things were placed on you. That’s never meant for a child to endure.”

“Mom, I—”

“Let me finish. Whether you want to be a dentist or work in finance or wait tables, I want you to do it for you. And only for you.”