Raising Landry

by Andee Michelle

  “I’m sorry, Carson. I really wish you would’ve let me come,” he says sweetly.

  “I’m okay. I need sleep, though. I’ll call you when I land in New Orleans,” I reply.

  “Goodnight, baby,” Kyler whispers.

  “Night,” I respond, once again my heart thumping rapidly at his term of endearment.

  I didn’t get much sleep last night. Between thinking about what is going to happen with my dad, nerves about seeing Chris again, and the fact that Kyler wants to actually give whatever this is between us a go, my brain was going 90-mph all night.

  I drag my ass out of bed and throw myself into the shower. I have just over a half hour before I need to get back into the airport terminal and get through security. I throw my hair up in a messy bun and put on a new t-shirt, the same jeans I wore yesterday and my favorite flip-flops. A little light powder, some mascara and a tinted lip balm and I’m on my way.

  After I check in and get through security, I find a coffee shop and order a coffee and a muffin. Just a little something to settle my lurching stomach. I can only hope that my daddy is still alive and coherent enough that I can talk to him rationally. This may be my only chance to fix our relationship, and I’m definitely not going to pass it up. I need him to know that I forgive him, and that I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to tell him that. The guilt fills me with a feeling I haven’t had in a long time. My dad has suffered through a divorce from my mother, who basically abandoned him when he got sick, and has been fighting cancer, all while not having his only child beside him to help him fight. I’m a terrible daughter. Every ounce of my soul aches with the knowledge that he has had to endure the last several years alone.

  It only feels like I’ve been at the airport a short time when I hear them call for my flight to start boarding. I gather up my trash, dumping it in the can as I walk to my gate. I reach into my bag and grab my cell to put it on airplane mode when I notice a text from an unavailable number. I open the message and almost drop my phone when I read it.

  UN: Running bitch? I’ll find you no matter where you go.

  I’m not sure if it’s the fact that my life is so crazy right now, or if it’s lack of sleep, but I feel nothing but anger coursing through me when I read his message. It’s been months and months since the accident, and even though the cops have followed all leads, they’ve been unable to find Jerrod. A little piece of me broke when I lost Lulu. I became a person I’m not used to. I became weak, which is something I’ve never been. I relied on Kyler more than I should have. He became my backbone instead of me standing up for myself. Even after my miniscule breakdown when the whole wedding thing happened, I packed my shit and left. Boom…done! I can feel my face burning and my heart starts to pound so loud all I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears. I’m tired of this asshat messing with my life. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder. I’m tired of waiting for the inevitable. I’m just tired of it all.

  Me: Then come get me, motherfucker.

  I’m done being a victim. That fucker wants a fight? Well, he’s about to get one. I’ll call Lopez when I get to New Orleans to let him know what’s going on. I’m sure he’ll be real happy with my response, but I’ve had enough cowering. They can all kiss my ass.

  I send Kyler a quick text that just lets him know I’m boarding for New Orleans, and then I turn my phone to airplane mode.

  I have a newfound determination to get my life back in order. First things first, I’m going to see my dad and spend the rest of his days making sure he knows how much I love him and missed him while we were apart. This flight can’t get to New Orleans fast enough.

  After New Orleans, Jerrod is going down!

  As the seatbelt sign comes on and I hear the pilot welcome us to New Orleans, my stomach clenches at the thought that I’ll be in the same room with my dad in just an hour or so. I hope Chris isn’t late because I need to get to my dad.

  I hate flying. Always have. I think the main reason is that it is out of my control. At least when I’m driving, I have control. The landing and takeoff are always the hardest for me because you get that feeling of falling on both accounts. I reach down and grab the arm rests, gripping them until my knuckles are white. I close my eyes and breathe through my nose as we start to descend. I feel a light touch on my hand and open my eyes to see the old lady next to me gently caressing my hand.

  “It’ll be okay, my dear. You’re gonna break that armrest if you don’t turn it loose,” she says with a thick southern accent and a smile. “God has you in his hands, honey. You’re needed in New Orleans. I can feel it, and He won’t let you down.”

  I’m shocked at her words because she doesn’t know me from Adam, but this gentle-souled woman next to me knows that I need to be here, right now, for good reason. I smile back at her and ease my grip of the armrest. She pats my hand gently and then pulls away. I’ve never been religious. I obviously grew up in a good southern home where we went to church every Sunday and we said Grace before every meal. But I haven’t been to church since I left home more than six years ago. God’s kind of been on my shit list since Lulu’s death. I’m mad at him. I know I need to make peace with the circumstances of the accident, but I haven’t been able to do that yet, and truthfully, I may never be ready. Only time will tell.

  I take a deep breath and smile when I feel the wheels of the plane touch down. A weird kind of peace settles over me and I know it’s time to fix everything. I pull my phone from my purse, take it off airplane mode and shoot Kyler a quick text letting him know I arrived safely and will call him this evening after I’ve seen my dad.

  We disembark from the plane and I head directly for the luggage carousels. I spot my bags after a few minutes and start to head in that direction when I feel a hand land on my shoulder. I jump back and let out a small scream before I whirl around and come face to face with a man I never thought I’d see again.

  Christopher Walker.

  “Wow, Carson!” he exclaims quietly. “You look so….different.” I watch as he scans me from head to toe, stopping on the tattoos that cover my arm. I take that time to really look at him. He looks exactly the same. He’s in an expensive suit and clean-shaven. As I rake my eyes over him, I come to a halt at his left hand, which is adorned with a beautiful platinum wedding band. I can’t take my eyes off his hand. He’s married. I feel a smile pull at my lips and look up to his worried face. I’m not smiling because he’s married; I’m smiling because I feel absolutely no jealousy about that fact. I was right. I’ve let him go, and knowing that with all my heart has me missing Kyler even more. I’m so ready to move on.

  “You look good, Chris. Exactly the way I remember you,” I say with a genuine smile. I reach out to shake his hand and he grabs it, only to pull me into a hug so tight I feel like my ribs may break.

  “Can’t breathe,” I choke out.

  He immediately lets go and steps away from me. “Sorry. It’s just so good to see you and know that you’re okay,” he admits with a sad look.

  “I’m great, actually.” I smile back. “Now, let’s get going to the hospital so I can see my daddy.”

  Chris’ face drops with real sadness and I can see how much of a toll my dad’s illness has taken on him. They must’ve become close while working at the firm together. I figured after the blow-up that he’d have little else to do with him. I guess I was wrong.

  “Carson, I feel like I should prepare you for what you’re going to see when you get there.” He takes a deep breath as he places his hand on my lower back and guides me toward the doors. “It’s not gonna be pretty.”

  We make our way to Chris’ car in silence, my mind going a million miles an hour thinking of what he’s going to tell me about my daddy.

  Once my bags are in the trunk and we are both inside the car, I turn to Chris and grab his hand, squeezing hard. “Thank you, Chris. Thank you for calling to tell me to come.” I let go of his hand and turn back to look out the front windshield. “Now, tell me what I’m walking into,�
�� I almost whisper.

  He doesn’t respond immediately and when I glance over at him, he is staring at me. I give him a chin lift to get his attention and he breaks eye contact to start the car. He eases out of the parking garage and toward the freeway before he speaks.

  “As I mentioned, your dad has cancer. Lung cancer, to be exact. He was diagnosed with it about six months after you left. By the time he went to the doctor, it was Stage 3. He did chemotherapy and radiation treatments, both of which shrunk the tumors but didn’t kill them all the way. He did several rounds of both before the doctors finally told him there was nothing else they could do. Everything they tried basically just prolonged his suffering.” He stops momentarily and looks over at me as I feel my chest clench and the tears start to fall. It kills me to know he’s been suffering for so long and all alone because I was just too damn stubborn to forgive him.

  “Please, go on. I need to know all of it,” I manage before I feel my throat start to close with emotion.

  “He decided about six months ago that he was done fighting. He was ready to let go,” he chokes out. “That’s when I knew it was time to bring you home.”

  He pauses for a second before continuing. “I told him I was going to find you so you could come home and be with him. At first, he acted like he didn’t know where you were and just agreed to let me look, but after a few days he admitted that he knew and has since the day you rented your apartment in Seattle. Once the cat was out of the bag, he told me everything he knew about what you’d been up to. He was so proud when he talked about you graduating from that cooking school. I don’t know that I’d ever seen him smile that big.”

  I must look stunned because he quickly continues. “He loves you so much, Carson. He just wanted to make sure you were okay. He knew you were mad and needed the time to heal after what we did to you, but he figured you’d come back, or at least contact him after some time had passed. He’s always known your whereabouts, and what you’d been doing,” he says with a small smile.

  I hold my hand up to make him stop because I don’t know if my heart can take anymore right now. My daddy knew where I was. He knew I went to culinary school…and then it hits me. It WAS him who put in the bid on the property I was buying. But how did he know I was planning to look at it? I have so many questions, but above all, if he’d known where I was, why didn’t he contact me?

  “Please, don’t tell me anymore right now. I need to see my dad, Chris. I need to talk to him.” I sob and he shakes his head, returning his gaze to the windshield and picking up speed.

  A few minutes later, we pull up in front of the hospital and I take a good look around. Things haven’t changed much in the few years I’ve been gone. I’ve been to this hospital many times. The time I fell out of the neighbor’s tree and broke my arm. The time I accidently shot my horse in the hind leg with Chris’ BB gun and she kicked me in the leg. When my dad thought my appendix had ruptured, but it was nothing more than food poisoning, and the time I slammed my finger in a truck door. I smile at all the memories.

  As we walk toward the doors, I see movement out of the corner of my eye and look over in that direction, stopping when I see Jenna and two little girls getting out of a car. She is pulling a toddler out of the back seat when she looks up and our eyes meet. She hasn’t changed a bit. She gives me a small smile, but I can see the pain behind it. I expect her to come over to us, but she holds the toddler on one hip and the older girl by the hand and walks into the hospital without looking back. I look over where I figured Chris would be and see that he stopped a few feet back and is staring after Jenna and the little girls. Weird.

  “You coming?” I ask gently.

  “Yeah, sorry,” he mumbles as he starts to walk with me toward the doors again.

  “What was that about?” I ask him, pointing toward the doors.

  “Nothing. You have more things to worry about than how fucked-up my life is.” He trails off and walks faster toward the doors.

  I don’t ask again. Although it is none of my business and I shouldn’t care, knowing that Chris and Jenna are not on speaking terms is saddening. He is wearing a wedding ring and she has two little girls who look just like her. I guess I assumed they were married. Maybe I’m wrong.

  We make our way into the hospital and up to the floor my dad is on. I take slow, deep breaths because my heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest.

  Nurses say hi to Chris as we walk toward the rooms at the end of a long hall. I once again see Jenna and the little girls as they talk to one of the nurses.

  When Jenna sees us coming, she takes the girls over and sits them in chairs a few feet away. She whispers something to them and then heads toward us. I can see her pain in her tense shoulders. She’s uncomfortable and if I’m reading her eyes correctly, fearful.

  “Carson,” she squeaks out, followed by clearing her throat. “It’s good to see you. Your daddy will be pleased as punch that you’re here.” She gives a little smile. I notice that she doesn’t look at Chris or address him at all. That can’t be good.

  “Hi, Jen,” I say lightly, because she looks like if I say it too loud, it will frighten her. She seems so fragile, heart-broken and lost.

  I look at him and see the guilt in his eyes.

  That son of a bitch. Did he do it again? Did he cheat on Jenna?

  “What did you do?” I ask him through my teeth, surprised at the anger I feel right now toward him. He ruined our chance at happiness and now he has a wife and two beautiful little girls and he ruined that, too.

  “Carson, this is none of your business, so please just stay out of it. Like I said, you have enough on your plate than to worry about this,” he demands while whipping his finger back and forth between him and Jenna. I can tell she’s trying to fight off tears.

  My heart breaks a little for her because as much as I hate what they did to me, I wasn’t already married to him, nor did I have children with him. I was saved from that disaster.

  “Fine. I need to go see my dad now,” I tell him as I walk toward the room the little girls are sitting outside. I can only assume that’s his room.

  I hear Chris and Jenna speaking softly to each other and as I get close to the door, the girls look up, then past me, before whisper-screaming, “Daddy” and jumping off the chairs to run to Chris. I turn to watch as he sees them barreling toward him. His scowl changes into a full mega-watt smile and he squats for them to jump into his arms. The smile on his face is pure joy. I shift my eyes to Jenna, who has turned her back to me and her shoulders are shaking slightly. She’s crying.

  Knowing they don’t need me interfering in their family issues, I turn back toward the door I know has my daddy behind it. I take a deep breath, close my eyes and say another little prayer.

  I push the door open slowly, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. There is a dim light coming from the bathroom door, and I take in the whole room before I let my eyes go to the bed.

  When I take in the sight in front of me, all the air rushes from my lungs and a sob tears from my throat as my hands come up and cover my mouth. He shifts slightly but does not wake. I walk slowly toward the bed, terrified to wake him before I have the chance to pull myself together. When I get next to him, I take in his sunken face and very thin frame. He’s skin and bones. The tears are coming so fast I have to brush them aside in order to see. I can’t bring myself to wake him. I can see his chest rise and fall and can hear the beeping of the heart monitor so I know he’s alive, although his grey ashen skin made me wonder. He’s dying.

  He shifts again, looking uncomfortable before a small cough comes from his mouth. His hand goes to his mouth as a fit of coughs follows. I watch the pain on his face as the coughing continues, and I reach over and take his hand without any hesitation.

  His eyes slowly open and when he is able to focus, seeing it’s me standing in front of him, I watch as his eyes fill with unshed tears and he chokes out my name.

  “Carson.” Cough.
“My baby girl has come home to me.” Cough.

  I drop down into the chair beside his bed and bring his hand to my face, closing my eyes to relish this moment. He gently caresses my cheek and when I look into his eyes again, the tears have started to fall from both of us.

  “Daddy,” I choke out before throwing my head down onto his frail body and sobbing uncontrollably. He lays his hand on the back of my head and rubs my hair like he used to do when I was a little girl. We sit like that for only moments before he starts to cough again. I sit up quickly and push the nurse call button.

  “I’m so sorry I haven’t been here, Daddy. I wish I’d known you were sick a long time ago. I could’ve been here to help you,” I say angrily. I know my anger isn’t at him. It’s at the situation. It’s at myself for letting this bullshit feud go on for far too long.

  “Car, you listen to me.” Cough. “I am so sorry for what happened. I let your mother make decisions I knew were wrong, and you got hurt in the process. I take full responsibility for that. You are my baby girl, and I helped them break your heart.” Cough. Wheeze. I reach over and push the nurse button again, getting agitated that they haven’t responded to the first one.

  “Stop, Daddy. I know you’re sorry. And I’m sorry for staying away way longer than I should’ve. I forgave you a long time ago, Daddy. I was just too stubborn to be the one to break. I’ve lost so much time with you,” I cry. “I love you so much, Daddy, and I’ve missed you so much.” My voice breaks completely, and he pats my hand as I lay my head back down on the bed.

  “I need you to listen to me, baby girl,” he says breathlessly. “I don’t have much time left and now that you’re here, I’m ready to let go.” I start to shake my head furiously but I know he’s suffered enough and ready to be done with all of this. His pain is obvious, and he’s lived with this for so long.