Chapter 6: The Apology That Wasn’t Enough
Terrence wanted to meet at the restaurant where he and my mother had their first date.
I almost said no.
Almost.
But something inside me needed closure.
Not for him.
For me.
I needed to stop wondering if there was a version of our relationship that could have existed.
I needed to know if he was capable of seeing me.
Not as a daughter who owed him something.
But as a person.
When I arrived, he was already seated.
He stood up when he saw me.
For a second, I saw the father from the photographs.
The younger man.
The one who held me as a baby.
Then the moment passed.
“Thank you for coming.””
I sat down.
“You said you wanted to talk.””
He nodded.
“I do.””
The waiter came by, but neither of us ordered.
The tension was too heavy.
Terrence folded his hands.
“I’ve been thinking.””
I waited.
“I handled the wedding situation badly.””
That surprised me.
It wasn’t an apology.
But it was something.
I nodded.
“Okay.””
He looked frustrated.
“That’s it?””
“What do you want me to say?””
“I’m trying here.””
I studied his face.
“Are you?””
“Yes.””
“Because trying would have sounded different.””
His expression changed.
“How?””
“Trying would have been saying you hurt me.””
Silence.
“I did hurt you,” he admitted.
My shoulders relaxed slightly.
“But I also felt hurt.””
There it was.
The balance.
The thing he always struggled with.
He could acknowledge my pain only if his pain stood beside it.
“I understand you were hurt,” I said.
“Do you?””
“Yes.””
He looked surprised.
“I understand you wanted that moment.””
His eyes softened.
“I did.””
“But you made the moment about yourself.””
He looked down.
“I wanted to feel important.””
I took a breath.
“And Marcus?””
“What about him?””
“He wanted me to feel important.””
That was the difference.
Terrence looked away.
“I can’t compete with him.””
I shook my head.
“You never had to.””
“Then why does it feel like I lost?””
Because maybe, deep down, that was what this was.
A competition I never created.
A race between a man who showed up and a man who wished showing up erased everything before it.
“I don’t want you to lose,” I said.
“Then what do you want?””
I looked at him.
“I want my father.””
His eyes changed.
For the first time, he looked less angry.
More human.
“I’m trying to be that.””
I nodded.
“Then start with the truth.””
“What truth?””
“That you weren’t there.””
He swallowed.
“That’s hard to hear.””
“It was hard to live.””
The words came out quietly.
But they were honest.
“I waited for you.””
His face fell.
“I know.””
“No, you don’t.””
I shook my head.
“You don’t know what it feels like to look at every father at school events and wonder why yours didn’t come.””
His eyes became glossy.
“You don’t know what it feels like to pretend you don’t care because caring hurts too much.””
He looked down.
“I made mistakes.””
“Yes.””
“I can’t change that.””
“No.””
I leaned back.
“But you can stop asking me to pretend it didn’t happen.””
The silence after that was different.
Not angry.
Just heavy.
Finally, Terrence spoke.
“What about Marcus?””
“What about him?””
“Do you really see him as your father?””
I didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.””
He nodded slowly.
And for once, he didn’t argue.
“I guess I have to accept that.””
I looked at him carefully.
“Do you?””
He gave a sad smile.
“I’m trying.””
And maybe that was the first honest thing he had said all day.
Not an excuse.
Not a demand.
Just trying.
When I left the restaurant, I didn’t feel like everything was fixed.
Because it wasn’t.
Some wounds don’t disappear because someone says sorry.
Some bridges have to be rebuilt one piece at a time.
But for the first time, I wasn’t carrying the responsibility alone.
That night, I called Marcus.
“You busy?””
He laughed.
“Depends. Are you about to ask me for help moving furniture again?””
I smiled.
“No.””
“Then I’m available.””
I sat quietly for a moment.
“Thank you.””
“For what?””
“For being my dad.””
There was silence.
Then his voice softened.
May you like
“Always.””
And that one word meant more than all the promises I had spent years waiting to hear.
