Page 29 of The Intimacy of Finding You

I’d taken after him in the woodworking department. I never really understood why I’d gone into cooking, since I was never the best at it. I never had the passion everyone else did. I was a lot happier as a manager, coming home to my woodshed to work on what I truly loved. I’d made most of the wood furniture in my house, too. It was relaxing to do something with my hands, creating something from what used to be a bunch of trees.

Every type of wood had a different color when finished, but most of them built the same. Some were softer. Some were tougher. But I could pretty much make anything out of any type of wood.

Pops had no idea I was doing this for him. I couldn’t be more excited about showing him if I tried. When all of it was put together, I was going to carve our names into it with a little mockingbird beside them. Well, I was going to try to, at least. I wasn’t the most artistic, either.

He used to sing me all kinds of lullabies, even when I was far too old for them. I smiled, thinking about them as I grabbed a new board and started swiping the stain over it with the brush. My favorite was always the one about buying me a mockingbird.

It was soothing because I believed him when he sang it to me. I’d fall asleep knowing Papa would do anything in the whole world for me. Anything. He loved me enough that it didn’t matter whether my parents liked me or not because I had him. He’d always taken care of me. He’d always loved me. He was the only constant in my entire life.

Where others left, Papa had stayed. He didn’t choose alcohol over me. Not like my parents did. Not like Tobi was doing.

Fuck.

The thought had my eyes going blurry. It hit me straight in the heart, the pain spreading from the very center out to the rest of my ribcage. I dropped the brush, watching the wood stain splatter across my worktable as I hunched over, gripping it for dear life. If I didn’t hold on, I’d fall over.

Was that it? Was I so fucking unlovable that everyone who was ever supposed to love me just couldn’t handle my existence and instead turned to something that could numb them? Numb them from remembering how hard it was to love me.

What could alcohol give them that I couldn’t? What was wrong with me? Why?

Why?

Why?

Why wasn’t I important enough? Why wasn’t I lovable enough? Why was I always the last to be chosen, only to be thrown off to the side in the end?

I took in a deep breath, trying to hold it. I needed to calm the fuck down, or Papa’s rocking chairs would never get finished. I’d keep losing pieces of myself, laying them out with the drying wood, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get those pieces back.

Would Tobi ever love me again like I loved him?

Would he choose me?

Choose sobriety?

Choose life?

Or was I chasing something that didn’t exist anymore because my heart was too big and too gullible?

Hush, little baby, don’t say a word. Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird won’t sing, Papa's going to buy you a diamond ring.

chapter sixteen

Pops seemed to be doing alright, despite having recently been in the hospital. The moment I opened his front door, the comforting smell of fresh coffee hit me right in the face. I followed it to the kitchen, finding him at the counter, stirring his one stevia packet into his mug.

He looked over his shoulder, a big smile on his face. “Hey, son. Want some?”

“Not today. How are you feeling?”

Grabbing his cane, he held his coffee in his other hand and slowly started to walk to the recliner in his living room. I followed suit, sitting on the couch cushion closest to him. “I’m feeling just fine, Cally. You don’t need to worry about me.”

I raised an eyebrow at that. “I’m always going to worry about you, Papa. That’s, like, the whole point of being your favorite grandson.”

“My only grandson, as you like to point out.” He grunted as he set his cup down on the small end table beside him. “Your fingers are all messed up.”

I looked down at my hands, studying the scabs and blood to see them from his point of view. “Oh, you know how it is. I was working on something in the shed last night and got a couple scrapes, to be fair. The rest, though, was from my anxiety.”

“Gotta stop eating yourself. I don’t like to see my boy all cut up like that.”

“I know, Pops. I was doing pretty good for a while there.”