All I Need

Angel

The silly photo I took of Damian the first day he drove me to Dina’s lights up my phone as I’m flicking through the Netflix menu.

“Hey.”

“I saw my father today.”

Not what I expected. I drop the remote and sit upright. “What? Where? How?”

“I think you mean why?” There’s a pause, then a deep inhale. “He’s dying. He came to make peace, I guess.”

That’s the worst possible reason to reconnect with an absentee parent, and not how I hoped a reunion would go for Damian and his father. “I’m so sorry. How are you holding up?”

“Not sure yet. He, uh… left me some kind of letter. An envelope and I’m not sure what’s in it. Are you busy?”

“No. I was just relaxing. Dina left about an hour ago.”

He makes a noncommittal hum sound before he asks, “Can I stop by?”

“You don’t even have to ask.” After the days we both had, a relaxing evening together sounds perfect. “I’ll make dinner when you get here.”

A knock at my door sends Genie speeding down the hallway. We have our talk about jumping on Damian, but it’s a half-hearted effort at best.

I swing the door open, and Genie surprises me by sitting like the best little smiling bully baby around. Damian steps through the door, and as soon as the door closes, Genie reverts to the wild animal I know and love.

“Hey Genie.” He bends down to give her the head scratch she’s desperate for without taking his eyes off of me. “Hi.” His meek smile shows the emotional upheaval he’s been through today.

“How are you?”

“Better now.” He steps forward and wraps his arms around my waist. The second his lips land on mine, it’s as if I’m absorbing all the turmoil he walked in here with, but it doesn’t feel so heavy for me. It’s always easier to carry for someone else, and I want to ease the weight off of him.

“I have cheap wine and discounted steak. You’re in for a real treat tonight.”

Damian pulls me in closer, easing my body against his, and plants another kiss on my still-tingling lips. “As long as I’m with you, I’d eat Genie’s dog food.”

That thought makes me laugh, but when I glance at Genie, she looks genuinely concerned. “Don’t worry, girl. Your food is all yours.” I grab Damian’s hand and lead him into the living room, motioning for him to sit on the sofa. “I’ll grab the wine and get started on dinner. You, relax.”

“Let me help with something.”

I tilt my head, questioning his motivations. He knows I don’t like too many cooks in the kitchen, but he always helps with the wine or something. In this case, though, I’m sure it’s a distraction.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

For the next thirty minutes, we dance around each other in my tiny kitchen, working together to make the cheap steak edible. We toss together a caesar salad and make garlic butter baby potatoes to ensure we’ll both need to brush our teeth before any make-out sessions commence. It takes about half of our cooking time before Damian starts laughing, but it’s nice to see some of the stress from the day leave his face. We make a pretty good team.

Our conversation over dinner is complete fluff. Nothing of substance, and I can tell he’s working to avoid the topic of his father’s visit today, and it’s for that reason I don’t bring up my conversation with Dina. When we both drop our forks on our empty plates and lean back, satiated, I’m unsure if I should bring it up or wait for him.

“Apparently he has stage four liver cancer.”

That solves my dilemma. I reach over to place my hand over his. “How do you feel about everything?”

He doesn’t respond right away. “It is what it is, I guess. He hasn’t been a part of my life for decades. I didn’t need him before”—his voice breaks—“and I don’t need him now.”

The hurt in his voice makes it hard for me to maintain my composure.

“Just because he made the decisions he did doesn’t mean this isn’t hard. You’re allowed to mourn the loss of the father you never had. It’s okay to hurt.” I grab his hand and lead him to the sofa so I can be closer to him. This is a situation that calls for a hug, not a hand-holding.

Damian slouches back on the couch. I sit beside him, turned to face him with one foot tucked underneath me.

“I wasn’t enough for him. Mom wasn’t. And for what? Now he’s dying and all he has from his sad, pathetic life is money and a job that will replace him before the ink on his obituary dries. What good is that?”

“It’s no good. You know that. He probably does too, and that’s why he came to see you. He knows his time is running out, and in the end, he wanted to see you. You were always enough.”

Damian swipes his one eye with his right hand before a tear falls. I take that as a sign I need to be closer. Garlic breath be damned. I settle in beside him and he drapes his arm over my shoulders.

“What am I supposed to do with this letter? I don’t want to read it yet.”

“That’s something you could do with your mom. I mean, I’m here for you if you want me to be, but I feel like that’s something you should do together.”

He pats at his pants’ pocket, which I’m assuming is where he has the letter. “Maybe. I don’t want to open up old wounds for her. She never deserved any of it.”

“I get that, but you should tell her. You didn’t deserve it either.”

Genie attempts to hop up onto Damian’s lap, but the poor squatty girl can’t get the momentum. Her failure to launch makes us both laugh. Damian bends down and grunts as he lifts her hefty body onto his thighs. She looks at him with such adoration, you can see the love in her eyes.

“Enough about my day. How did things go with Dina? I’ve been so distracted, I forgot to ask.” Damian pets Genie with his left hand and strokes my shoulder with his right. Despite our conversation from thirty seconds ago, he looks content.

I give him an abbreviated version of what our day consisted of, including our ice cream lunch. To my surprise, he asks to see the photos I mentioned. I haven’t put them away yet, so they’re still tucked under my coffee table.

The first photo I pull out when I remove the lid is one of me from my grade eight graduation. I remember feeling so grown up. It was the first time I’d ever worn a gown, and shopping with my mom was one highlight of my year. I settled on a satin, dark turquoise slip dress that, looking back, was way too mature for thirteen-year-old me, but it was forty dollars on clearance and I knew my parents didn’t have a lot of money, so I pretended it was my dream dress. Another occasion I lied. Good intentions or not, I still shouldn’t have. That day was just as important to my mom.

Damian’s hand stops moving, causing me to look over at him. “What’s wrong? We don’t have to look at these if it’s too much.”

I shake my head and explain to him where my thoughts were. He doesn’t make excuses for me or tell me a little white lie is okay sometimes. He knows me better than that. The only thing he does is lean over to kiss me. Using his non-Genie hand, he pulls my head closer, deepening the kiss until my dress stress disappears.

After we separate our lips, Damian keeps his forehead pressed to mine and his eyes closed. “Have I told you lately how amazing you are?”

I’ve returned from my earlier guilt trip thanks to Damian’s distraction. “Not recently, but I can forgive you.”

“Do you feel better after talking to your sister?”

“Yeah. I do. Not saying I’m just over years of guilt I’ve been hauling around, but it at least feels like there’s wheels on the suitcase now. It’ll get easier to manage in time.” I pause, not wanting to send him back to his tortured mindset from earlier, but not wanting to ignore his emotions, either. “What about you? Do you think you can ever forgive your dad?”

He drops his hand from Genie’s head, who is now sound asleep on his lap, and pats at his pocket again. “I’m not sure what that forgiveness feels like, but I think I’m on my way. Ever since we visited my family, I’ve been trying to focus on living for the right things.” He drops his other arm that he had placed back around my shoulders, and instead, takes my right hand in his left. “This feels like the right thing, Angel.”