Page 138 of The Design of Goodbye
Sometimes, it was as if my dad could read my mind.
“You did nothing wrong, honey. Your mother...”He blew out a long breath, and it ruffled his hair. “She was always going to leave. Eventually.”
“How do you know?”
“Years ago, when you were still little, I found one of her sketchbooks. In it, she’d sketched out her future. It was a detailed list of everything she wanted to accomplish. It didn’t include dates. And itdidn’tinclude us. After that, I knew she was going to leave. I just didn’t know when.”
“So, basically,” I said, “she designed her goodbye.”
“Yeah, I guess she did,” he said. “I’m sorry. I think my plans, while well-intentioned, only caused you more pain. Looking back, I should’ve taken you and left.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “You did what you thought was best.”
The door swung open, and Thimble sauntered in. A Christmas bell dangled from his collar, making him look incredibly dapper. He hated the bell, but I made him wear it every Christmas. He sat down, chin raised high. Proud. And it wasn’t because of the bell. It was because he was soaking wet.
“That cat,” muttered my dad.
I giggled. “It’s Christmas. Let him have this moment.”
“Fine,” my dad begrudgingly agreed, but his lips were curved in a smile.
I glanced around the room, my heart sinking at its emptiness. Ever since my mom had left, I’d been proud of how strong my dreams were. That she hadn’t taken those from me. But after my conversation with her, I was worried she finally had.
“I thought my dreams were strong enough,” I admitted. “But I think Mom finally broke mine.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know if I’m going to enter the Harbor Fashion Show.”
“What?” my dad exclaimed. “Why not?”
“A few reasons, I guess,” I started. “I can’t think of sewing or fashion design without thinking of Mom. Having her associated with it kind of makes me hate all of it. I worry I’ll never be able to separate the two. That I lost my love for it.” I gestured for Thimble to come over to me, but he didn’t budge. “I’m terrified she took everything from me.”
“I don’t think she did,” he said. “You need time. Think of it as a blank slate. You can do whatever you want. You only need time to figure out what that is.”
Thimble finally walked over and plopped onto my lap. I didn’t care he was making my Christmas pajamas wet. “Hey, Dad?” I whispered, petting Thimble’s wet fur. “Why haven’t you forgiven me for stealing that necklace? I know that—”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, petting Thimble, too. “I forgave you that night.”
“But you never said you did.”
He was confused. “I didn’t?”
I shook my head, and he hugged me. Squished between us, Thimble meowed pitifully. “I forgive you,” he said. He pulled away and forced me to make eye contact. “I’m not your mother. I’m not going to leave.”
Finally, the blanket of security I’d craved since that day in July covered me, filling me with an unfamiliar but welcome warmth. “Love you, Dad.”
“Dinner should be ready soon,” he added. He stood, the motion causing glitter to fall off his apron and onto Thimble’s wet fur. It’d be impossible to get out. He’d be a sparkly kitty for weeks. “Is that boyfriend of yours coming over?”
My mouth fell open. “How did you know Liam was my boyfriend?”
“I caught him kissing you.”
I buried my face in Thimble’s wet, sparkly fur. “That’s so embarrassing.”
My dad stared pointedly at me. “You should’ve told me. I’m happy for you. He’s a good kid.” He nudged my knee with his foot. “So, is he?”
I shook my head. “His dad won’t let him, but we’re celebrating tomorrow after he gets off work.”
