Man of My Dreams (15 page)

“Dad? Mom? We’re home.” It’s a little after nine p.m. and the house seems deserted. It’s creepy. I don’t like this foreboding aura surrounding me.

“What the hell, Dec? Where are they?”

He shrugs his shoulders, hurling an overstuffed duffel bag. I stare at him for an answer and then I see recognition in his eyes.

I whip around to see my dad tiptoeing down the stairs with his fingers to his lips, shushing us. When he gets to the bottom I bum rush him with an all encompassing bear hug. “Hi, Daddy. How is she?”

“Hi, sweetie,” he says, squeezing me back in his tight, protective arms. I have never once felt anything less than safe in the grip of this man.

We let each other go and Declan drops the duffel bag to shake my dad’s hand. “Hi, Mr. P.” But when their hands meet, my dad pulls him in against him, patting him on the back, a more manly hug than the one we just shared.

“Thank you, Declan. This means the world to us.” My dad whispers in his ear, but it’s loud enough for me to hear and it makes me tear up.

“Of course, Sir.” Declan says. The tiny sentence represents so much about his character.

When the moment has passed, Declan and my father smooth out the invisible wrinkles in their shirts, clearing their throats. I ogle over this adorable exchange between the two most important men in my life.

“You two got here quick. You better not have sped the whole way down. Cops out here don’t miss a beat.” My father is back to being stern. He has to make up for that man hug.

“Daddy, stop beating around the bush. How is she?”

His forehead crinkles, the lines of worry creasing around his eyes. I hadn’t noticed it the last time I was home, but my dad is starting to look old. The thought of him and my mother aging piled onto the whole cancer scare is enough to bring me back into panic mode. But for the sake of my already worried father, I keep myself in check.

“She’s tired. I finally convinced her to go to sleep, because the stubborn old bag wanted to wait up for you. It was a rough day, sweetie. And the next few days of waiting will be even more intense so the fact that you’re here…it means...everything.”

“Would you stop making it like I’m doing you a favor, Daddy? I’m only away at college. I still technically live here, this is my home and we’re talking about my mother. Why wouldn’t I be here? Stop thanking me.”

My father lifts his head and stares at me for a few seconds before he smiles, revealing his handsome dimples. “When did you grow up, sweet pea? I am so proud of the woman you’ve become.”

Okay, this man must
want
me to cry. Sweet pea is our private little thing and revealing my childhood nickname in front of Declan...when
did
I grow up? Before I left for college I couldn’t wait to be free, but now, being home, feeling like a stranger in my own house, I wish I was that little girl again. Then my father could wipe away my tears, kiss away my boo-boos and everything would be right with the world.

I look over to Declan, who is taking it all in and realize that he is ready to step to the plate and fill those shoes now. I’m overwhelmed with so many emotions, both bittersweet and hopeful. But I take my father’s hand and Declan’s and walk us into the living room where we can be more comfortable to talk to about what’s to come.

Three days later we’re seated at the kitchen table, eating dinner. My mom hasn’t been in the mood to cook, another clear sign of how out of it she feels, so we’re huddled around take-out containers of Chinese food. I can’t blame her for her current state of depression. It’s taking every ounce of me not to join her in her frequent bouts of tears and rants, but my dad’s right. I’m a grown up now, and I need to be here for her. My parents have been there for me through every minor scrape and bruise for the last twenty-one years. My turn to repay the favor.

Declan is playing with the leftover broccoli on his plate, his fork scraping against the porcelain mindlessly.

“Penny for your thoughts, Declan?” My mother interrupts the comfortable silence.

He breaks out of his daze and darts his eyes from my mom, to my dad, then to me, landing back on my dad again. “Mr. P., I know this is going to sound completely crazy and maybe even inappropriate for the moment, but I...I need to ask you something.”

The three of us stare at Declan completely flummoxed. In the past three days everyone’s mood has been solemn. We danced around the reason for us to be together, the issue that had us all walking around on eggshells. We talked mainly about school; my dad even helped the both of us with a confusing assignment from our history professor. So I can’t imagine what Declan is about to ask.

“Sure, Declan, shoot.” My father takes a sip of his beer.

“Well, Sir...I mean, Mr. and Mrs. Page, I know it’s sudden and this probably seems out of left field, but...I love your daughter more than I ever thought I would love anyone. I never expected to fall so hard, so quick. I imagined having this conversation at a much later date in time, certainly not with the weight of this circumstance looming over us. But, if these last few days have shown me anything, it’s that you have to live in the moment.”

I reach over to my dad’s beer, grab the bottle and take a huge swig. I need a drink for this.

“I guess what I’m saying is. Mr. Page, I intend on asking Mia to marry me and I would love your blessing.”

I wolf down the rest of the beer, banging the empty bottle down on the table with a loud thud. Maybe I should get another one from the fridge. Dad probably needs it more than I do. I start to rise from my seat at the table, but my father places a hand in front of me, warning me to stay put. All the while his eyes do not leave Declan.

My mother is the first to break the awkward hush that’s come over us all. “Mia, are you pregnant?”

My father’s eyes quadruple in size.

“I guess you didn’t just see me guzzle down Daddy’s beer. No! I’m not pregnant.” I shake my head, astonished and then turn to my crazy boyfriend. “Declan, this is so sweet and I love you too, but...”

Declan looks through me, intent, focused, driven. I imagine him blocking out everything else in the room. “But nothing...I’m serious, Mia. I want to marry you. This isn’t a proposal...I’m going to do that right, but I want your folks’ permission so that when I do get down on one knee I know they’ll be happy about it.” He turns his attention back to my father, whose eyes have gone down to double in size. “Mr. Page, do I have your blessing? Please, sir? Tell me you’ll let me love and protect her the way you have for all of eternity.”

Oh. My. God. This boy is a dream. Between the beer and the butterflies in my stomach, I am about to pass out.

“Daddy! Say something! He’s pouring his heart out here and you’re making him bust.”

My father focuses on me, a glisten in his eye. He doesn’t cry, but this is the closest I think I’ve ever seen him. “He makes you happy, sweet pea?”

“Happier than I’ve ever been, Daddy.”

He turns to Declan again. My mother’s hands are clasped tightly around her mouth. “You have my blessing, son. This family will be lucky to have you in it, Declan.”

My mother bursts out into tears again, but it’s so crazy how you can tell the difference between happy tears and tears of sorrow. I’m sure behind it all are the worries that the news she receives about her biopsy will tell of her future—will she be around for this wedding? But she does a hell of a job holding all that back and letting the happiness shine through.

I jump out of my chair to kiss Declan, then my father and as I am about to do the same to my mother, the phone rings.

The four of us stop as if some evil villain has stepped into our kitchen and zapped us with a freeze ray gun. Our eyes dart around at each other, everyone looking to the other, placing responsibility on someone to answer the damn thing.

I finally suck it up and run to the phone, picking it up as if it were a bomb ready to detonate.

“Hello?” There’s a pause and then a high pitched woman with a southern accent introducing herself as Brenda from Dr. Aqualani’s office, asking for my mother. I look over to her and tilt the phone in her direction, but she motions with her hands for me to continue.

“Um, my mom wants you to give me the results. She’s right here next to me, is that okay?”

The woman sniffs out a breath and tells me that she can go ahead since she has my mother’s written consent. Consent my butt, I just want her to get on with it.

I listen to the words. I picture the secretary from
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off
as her voice pierces through me, first informing me of the date of the biopsy and the type, then the doctor who administered the exam. I want to shout in the phone, “Yes or no! Just say it already!” But then she says the word and I nearly drop the phone.

“Benign.” Is all I can decipher from this woman’s chatty mouth.
Benign
. It’s the most beautiful word I’ve ever heard and I intend to scream it loud enough for everyone on the block to hear.

I thank the woman and hang up. And take my mother’s shaking hands in mine. “Benign, Mom! It’s benign! You’re okay. We’re all okay. Everything is perfect and it’s benign!”

I scream the words a few more times, running and jumping, hugging and kissing everyone in the room. Declan promised me it would all work out. And now not only is my mother healthy and cancer free, but my boyfriend just asked my father for my hand in marriage.

I watch my parents in a loving embrace. The tears are unmistakable now, streaming from my father’s big brown eyes. He kisses my mother, telling her how much he loves her. This is love. The kind of love Declan and I will have. The kind that can overcome anything life throws our way.

Watching Declan maneuver through the kitchen is a long-awaited comfort. While it feels strange, since it seems like he’s been gone forever, I must admit that I’ve missed him. We’ve all missed him. And the timing of his damn trip to Hong Kong could not have come at a worse time.

Asking him to come back home last night may have been an impulse reaction to the drama with my dad, but I can’t help feeling like it’s finally time for him to be home. I fooled myself into believing I could do it all alone, but part of me needs him around to protect me from all of my fears. The fear of being a single parent. The fear of losing a parent.

Declan hands me a cup of coffee as a squirming Charlie invades my lap. “Babe, what time do you want to go to the hospital? I can drop the kids off at my parents and we can go together.”

I want to go together, but I’m not sure jumping right back into the normal routine as a couple is too much too fast. Besides, he’s leaving again in two days and the girls should get as much daddy time as possible. They’ve been away from him way too much lately.

“You know what, Dec? I’m thinking of going alone. You do something with the girls. They’ve missed you.”

There’s a hint of disappointment in his hopeful eyes. Allowing him to come home made him think the rift between us was finally over for good. I want to just forgive and forget, but the forgiveness is the hardest part. That may take more time. My heart isn’t ready to get all comfy and cozy, yet.

Charlie scoots down off my lap to join Cara in front of the TV for their favorite
Max and Ruby
episode. Declan takes the opportunity to talk to me alone. “Mia, I don’t want you dealing with this by yourself. I know you’re scared. I know everything that’s happened over the last few months has taken a toll on you, but I want to be here for you...while I can.” He tugs at his floppy hair, smoothing it off his face. His hands become tight fists in his lap. “I am so mad at myself for offering to go on this trip. I should be here. You need me now.”

There’s no way he could have known this would happen, but still, a part of me is angry that he booked this trip without consulting me. It’s hurtful to think that instead of working towards getting back to normal, he was spending our time apart getting used to a different kind of future. His not telling me about this sooner could have a more serious meaning behind it. Maybe Declan was starting to give up hope on us. Maybe he didn’t want to come back home. Maybe my brain is too warped from yesterday to be jumping to these kinds of conclusions.