Life In Reverse(13)

“Anna is pretty strict about work attire,” she explains. She glances over her shoulder at the line forming in front of the counter, then at the dude behind the register who is watching her like a hawk. “Anyway, I need to get back to work.”

“Wait.”

She’s about three steps away when my voice stops her and she turns around. “Yeah?”

“I wanted to… apologize for earlier.”

She cocks her head to the side, eyes probing as if I’m under a microscope. The way she studies me makes me shift in my seat. “Is this an apology of your own volition?” Again, her words make my lips want to crack into a grin. But this time I hold steady.

“Yes.”

With a brisk nod of her head, she retorts. “Okay then. Apology for acting like an * accepted. See ya.” She’s nearly to the counter when she pivots on her heel and I end up staring at the side of her face. “I’m sorry, too.” Then she spins around and saunters off, reminiscent of a tornado. The way she whirls in and causes all sorts of commotion, then walks away, not realizing the damage she’s left behind.

Or maybe that’s me.





I LEFT WORK in a hurry. It was a long day and I’m anxious to take a hot shower and wash the remnants of it from my skin. As I steer Zack’s silver Honda into the driveway, I shift the car into park and close my eyes. Fingers curled tightly around the wheel, I drop my head against it, a mountain of exhaustion releasing on a heavy sigh.

Gathering strength to lift myself up, my eyes wander to Dad in the garage and I wonder what he’s doing here. He’s sitting on the workbench amidst the tools, his shoulders hunched over. My father is rarely in a bad mood and warning bells go off. My stomach drops to the ground as I worry my lip between my teeth.

I leave the bag of cinnamon rolls on the passenger seat and exit the car, heading straight for the garage. “Dad?” He doesn’t respond, so I walk over and lay a hand on his shoulder. He startles and practically falls off the bench, his hand going to his chest.

“Oh, honey, I didn’t hear you.”

Dad rights himself and I take a seat next to him. “What’s going on? What’s wrong? You’re not supposed to be here today.”

He places a hand over mine and pats it a few times, giving me a weak smile. “Okay, first of all calm down. Everything’s fine.” The strain in his voice doesn’t reassure me. He exhales and the air around us grows heavy. “Your mom had a difficult day and she needed me.” My jaw tenses as my free hand grips the bench, nails digging into the wood. “There was a letter today in the mail addressed to your brother. It was from an old friend of his from high school. Someone… who didn’t know he, well,” he pauses, tempering the emotion in his throat. “That he’d passed away.”

“Oh, Dad.”

“It hit her particularly hard and we talked about it for a while, but she ended up with a migraine and she’s lying down now.”

Until my brother died, I didn’t know that longing could hurt so much. That it was a physical ache you feel in your bones; the kind of ache that nothing can tranquilize. People used to tell me it would “diminish” over time, but I don’t believe that’s true. How can losing a piece of yourself be repaired over weeks, months, years? I’ll never stop seeing his reflection when I stare at my own. I’ll never stop expecting to find him in all the subtle intricacies that made up his life.

“He’s been on my mind a lot lately.” I wipe the pain that’s found its way from my eyes and lay my head on Dad’s shoulder. “I wonder… if I make it harder for her sometimes… because I look just like him. Do you find it hard to look at me, Dad?”

“Oh, honey, no, no, no.” He turns his entire body to face me, his palm coming up to stroke my hair. “Don’t ever think that. If anything, you keep him alive.” The expression around his mouth softens. “When I see you smile, I see him smile. And when you get those sun freckles on your cheeks it reminds me of how he used to complain about the ones he had,” he admits, and relief whooshes out of me over words I didn’t realize I needed to hear.

“I loved his freckles.”

“Me too. But he hated them. Remember how he always thought it would drive the girls away, because ‘who the heck likes freckles?’” Dad shakes his head then bops my nose. “My son, all right. Thirteen going on seventeen.” His laughter lightens the mood and he pats his belly. “What do you think he’d say about this thing I’m sporting now?”

I glance down at his round stomach, my lips quirking up at the corners. “He’d probably say to have another cinnamon roll. You know food was his patronus.”

“Ah, yes.” A tiny noise sounds from his throat. “And I think patronus was his favorite word.” He places his hands on my shoulders, eyes burrowing into mine. “I don’t want you to worry about your mother, okay? She’s going to be fine. We’re going to take a drive by the coast later and maybe grab some dinner. I think the air will do her some good. Do you want to come with?”

“Nah.” I kiss my dad then hop off the bench. “I think I’m going to do some sculpting actually.”

“Okay, honey. Enjoy.” I’m on my way to the side door when he calls my name. I pause with my hand on the knob, darting a glance over my shoulder.