Page 60 of If Tomorrow Never Comes

Getting his meaning, I say, “Dad, can we talk? Please?”

Standing by my dad, Leo pulls his hands from his pockets and says, “I’m no grill master, but I think I can keep the food from burning.”

Dad looks over at me, searching my face. After a few seconds, he says, “Okay.” He hands the tongs to Leo, patting his back. “To be a part of this family, you have to know how to cook. Tyshawn and Tessa baked, and I was grill master. You ready for that?”

Leo chuckles, taking the tongs from my father. “I got it, sir.”

“Call me Jermaine. But if I return and find my shit burned, you’ll have to go back to calling me sir.”

I laugh along with them and stand from the table to wait for my dad by the door.

After tells Leo when to flip burgers and turn hot dogs, he follows me to the living room.

We sit and are silent for a moment. It’s awkward, since my father and I haven’t been in the same room alone in over a year. I don’t like having the wedge between us, and I’m going to work hard to remove it. Starting with this conversation.

“Where’s Cynthia?” I ask, looking around. The living room still has photos of my mother and father together, us as a family, and surprisingly, photos of my dad and Cynthia. That softens a little of the resentment I have toward her. It’s obvious she knows my dad has these pictures of my mother up and doesn’t demand he take them down.

His smile is shaky and uneasy, so he probably noticed the estrangement too. I feel like shit for shutting my dad out like this. “She’s coming over later if you’re okay with that.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to invite her on reflex, but we need to hash some things out first. “Why did you move on so quickly?” I ask abruptly. I probably should have asked with more finesse, but sometimes—along with rambling—I blurt shit out.

“I wondered when you’d ask me that.” He leans back, crossing his ankle over his knee. “I didn’t go out looking for it. When Tessa died, I didn’t think I would be able to go on. I thought I’d die along with her.” A lump forms in my throat at the thought of both my parents no longer being here. “I started going to grief counseling a month after she died, I’m not sure if you remember?”

I nod. He asked me to go with him, but I handled my grief differently, not wanting to talk to a room full of strangers about how I felt.

“I wanted to be stronger for you. The way I was carrying on wasn’t healthy, so I tried to get some help processing. That’s where I met Cynthia. Her husband had died a few months before.

“For a few weeks, I would go and not share, just listen to attendees talk about their spouses and feel content that I wasn’t alone—that other people had lost the ones they love, and I could get through it because they were. Then one day, when I was missing Tessa so much I felt like I would choke on my grief, I shared about her. I talked about how we met, how we bought a house and raised you, how we lived a good life together. And about how she … died.” He trips over the word, and I have to blink back tears.

Here I was , thinking Dad no longer cared about Mom and he moved on because he didn’t give a shit. But he’s still hurting. “It’s okay, Dad,” I whisper, not wanting to upset him anymore.

“No, let me get this out,” he says with pleading eyes. I acquiesce, folding my hands in my lap. “After talking about her, I felt lighter, like I could go on because, no matter what, Tessa would always be with me. In here,” he mutters, pointing to his heart. “Once the meeting was adjourned, a few of us went out for coffee, just to talk and bond. They always asked, but I usually didn’t take them up on the offer. But something told me to go this time. What started out as five of us conversing and getting to know each other ended with me and Cynthia chatting about our spouses. She lost her husband in an accident at his job.

“We just got to know each other, and over time, we developed feelings. It may have felt fast, but it’s not how you’re thinking. Cynthia knows I’ll always have a special place in my heart for Tessa, just as she always will for her late husband.” Dad looks at me, a sheen in his eyes. “I’m simply trying to get on as best I can, Ty.”

I slide over to him, throwing my arms around his shoulders. “Dad, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have?—”

“No, Ty. It’s okay.” His arms wrap around me, and I break down, crying out all the tears I’ve been holding in for years. I should have come to him before, but my own grief held me back. It didn’t even cross my mind my father was struggling just like me.

“I’m so sorry, Dad. I’ll do better, I promise. I should have been here.”

He kisses the top of my head like he used to do when I was a child, and I smile, more tears dripping down my face. “It’s okay, son. I’m the parent. I should have made sure you were okay too.”

Pulling back, I wipe away my tears. “From now on, let’s be there for each other.”

“Deal.”

I give him one more hug, feeling so much better after our long overdue conversation. I’ll have to work hard to get back to the place we used to be, but I’m willing to do anything to fix the relationship with my dad.

“You can invite Cynthia over. I’d like to get to know her.”

“She’d like that,” Dad says with a grin.

We make our way back outside to Leo, who has a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. His loose blue shirt is sticking to him, but he looks relaxed in front of the grill. He smiles when he sees my dad, handing him the tongs. “Can I still call you Jermaine?”

Dad takes the tongs, moving burgers and hot dogs around. He looks at Leo with a grin. “Yeah, son. You can call me Jermaine.”

Leo comes to sit beside me while my dad removes the meat off the grill. “I’m a grill master,” he mutters, kissing me behind the ear.