Page 38 of For the Record
“Rachel,” Adam interrupted before sticking his hand out to lightly grasp my wrist in the most delicate touch. Funny how a man so large and in control could be so gentle. “You do this every time. I know how this goes. Don’t apologize. I like your dad.”
That confirmation alone settled my steady heart rate, and the warmth wrapping around my wrist from his calloused hand wasn’t hurting either.
I nodded and stepped out of the car, coming around to the driver’s side where Adam was. I’d made sure to text Dad earlier that I was visiting and that Adam would be coming too. He responded with I’ve got Fleetwood Mac going. Come on in when you get here. Which made me smile to no end, causing Adam to ask what he said. When I showed him, Adam, let out the tiniest smile and made a comment under his breath about his nickname for me, Stevie.
It had to be a good day today, considering I didn’t get any kind of heads-up from his nurse after his morning check-in. Not to mention he answered me clearly and quickly. That would make this process smoother, at least.
Adam reached a hand out, locking our fingers together. I looked up at him. He wasn’t smiling or frowning. But he wore this reassuring expression, his eyes making sure I knew it was going to be okay. The tightened squeeze he pulsed through his fingers to mine steadied that reassurance. I nodded. He nodded back.
A silent agreement between partners that no matter what happened, we had each other. And in times like these, I was incredibly grateful for that.
Dad told us to walk right in, but no matter how often he said that, I could never bring myself to actually do it. So I knocked and waited patiently as Dad shouted, “I am not buying another one of those damn cookie dough boxes from your grandson, so keep on moving, Brenda. If he wants to go to space camp so bad, then tell him to build a rocket to get there.”
Adam snorted beside me, and I covered my twisted mouth with my hand before elbowing his side. “It’s us, Dad!” I shouted back.
Two seconds later, the door was open wide with my father on the other. He was in his typical khakis and Phillies baseball tee, with a splitting grin across his face. “There’s my girl.”
He reached out to envelop me in a hug, wrapping his arms around my back and pulling me tight. I pulled back and let him and Adam shake hands. They both nodded to each other, my dad smiling up at him before he opened the door wider to let us in.
His place was always so well kept. It reminded me of Adam’s. I guess military habits died hard and whatnot, but still. Dad’s house was basic. It was one of the smaller units, since the bigger ones were meant for couples or if someone had a family member staying with them. But all he needed was the standard two bedrooms, one bathroom, a small living room and kitchen, and a tiny office space in the corner. It was enough to keep him from feeling cramped, but not so much that he lost track of his things and got easily confused.
Before I’d gotten him settled in here, I’d come in with extra details to make his life easier. Label makers, extra signs, etc. Anything that seemed to cause added confusion in his life, I labeled. From marking where his toiletries go to adding a flippable switch on the dishwasher that said clean or dirty. I wanted anything that was going to make his life easier and happier.
He was still going to get lost. He was still going to have bad days and lash out. I knew that. But if any part of me could lighten that load when I couldn’t physically be here, I did it.
He wasn’t lying before about having Fleetwood Mac ready to go. In the far corner on his desk sat his record player, pouring out the Rumors album. His personal favorite and mine.
I smiled and sank into his comfortable couch as he handed Adam and me both a glass of lemonade. We thanked him and leaned against the back cushion, our knees inches apart.
“So…” I started. “Did you have a good day yesterday?” I asked as Dad relaxed in his recliner on the other side of the coffee table.
“Yup, yup.” He clicked his teeth and tapped his foot to the beat, like he couldn’t help himself. “Didn’t get much done. Wish I’d gone to Marlo’s or something.”
I smiled and played along, despite knowing he hadn’t been to Marlo’s doughnuts in years. Mostly because he didn’t have a car to drive and the Uber app was confusing to him on most occasions. But I brought them to him regularly, so I made a mental note to grab him an apple cider doughnut the next time I visited. Layla had brought him one way back when she first met him, and out of all of the things he could hook on to for a memory, it had to be that doughnut.
“They are the best. So, Dad, actually, Adam and I came here to talk to you about something.”
Dad’s eyebrows raised across from me, his head tilting as he glanced back and forth between us. How was I supposed to explain this? I couldn’t openly say Hey, Daddio, we drank too much and got married, and instead of simply getting an annulment, we decided to reap the rewards and basically steal from our government.
I sucked in a deep breath as Adam’s hand slipped behind me, rubbing slow circles on my back. It was fine. It was going to be fine.
“We decided to get married.” An anxious smile played on my face as I lifted my left hand to flash my ring his way.
I watched his reaction in detail, waiting for any hint of emotion. Instead, his eyes traced my ring, like he was physically wrapping his brain around it. The corner of his lips pulled into a slow smirk, his smile line wrinkling and his eyes starting to scrunch at the corners. Then he let out a single, low “ha.” He lifted a hand to Adam and shook his pointer finger at him. “You took longer than I thought.”
My head swiveled to Adam beside me. A flush was starting at the base of his neck and reaching up to his scruffy chin, then disappearing behind his beard.
I shook my head. “Well, it’s a bit sudden, I know—”
Dad scoffed loudly before sipping his own lemonade. “Sudden,” he mocked. “Yeah, right.”
Adam looked over to me and widened his eyes, as if to say he had no idea what he meant, and I leaned back against his hand in encouragement.
Well, he was still confused. But it wasn’t the frustrated kind of confused or mad, lashing out kind of confused. So I would take it.
Dad stood from his recliner. “Well, come on. Give me a hug.” He reached his arms out, so Adam and I stood.
I walked toward him with open arms, but Dad bypassed me and went straight to Adam, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing tight. “’Bout time, son.”