To Grieve, Learn and Let Go (Pedro Pascal/Joel Miller Inspired Story)

Memory of Spring

We've only been on the road for less than three minutes and I can already feel the awkwardness rising between us again. I keep my eyes outside of the window, hoping that he'd not say or do anything that will make me suspicious about him being in New York when my grandmother just died. I can already gather some suspicion about him owing someone. Well, to my assumption. As cars are packed in the street and pedestrians are crossing the street, all I can think about is what he wanted to talk to me about. Does this involve money? Is there a family secret that I don't know about?

We've been at the intersection for quite some time. There's something happening at the intersection, and I can see that there's three people arguing at a bike lane and a car with a broken taillight. It's not something I don't see every day but being in this car with my dad is making me wish I'd not accept going to the bistro with him. I can be in my bed right now, relaxing and making plans for my orientation that's on August 19th. My patience is getting thinner.

My dad is looking very relaxed, with one hand on the steering wheel and the other behind his back. His finger taps on the steering wheel, humming a tune that I can recognize. It sounds like he's humming one of my favorite 80s hits, Take on Me. He doesn't have any music playing so I'm assuming he's passing time by humming random tunes.

His sudden loud sigh and chuckle takes my mind off the tune. "New York City traffic is something else, isn't it? Is it usually like this?"

"Most of the time, yes." I take a one second glance at him before peering out the window.

"I can't imagine living in this city. My patience would be out the door!" He says, giggling. "Last time I was here, I was in Albany, when you were just a kid."

"I'm surprised you remember that."

He looks over at me, with a lighthearted grin. "Remember what?"

"Me as a kid, visiting Albany."

"Of course, I remember! We went to the farm for your after-school field trip. Milked the cows, fed the chickens, and made homemade strawberry and apple jam. I remember how excited you were when you made yourself toast and ate it all in one sitting. Sprinkled a ton of cinnamon sugar and melted butter and added a bit too much of the apple jam," he says while pinching his thumb and pointy finger to emphasize the detail of the memory. "Had you drunk three cups of water to get all that sugar out of your system. I'm sure you remember that Mia."

"Yes, I do..." I remember it clearly. I was a happy kid when I was with my dad. I was in the backseat of the van as we drove to Albany on a Spring Day, listening to my dad's favorite 80s tunes that he grew up listening to. We laughed and played I Spy too. It was the Farming Day with our parents and every kid was with their parents or guardians. I can remember the smell of it; earthy, sweet, and oaky. I remember how the weather felt that day as well. It was fresh, the air felt comfortable and warm, and the sun was bright. Me, my peers and our parents played so many games that day. I remember the Bean Bag race our parents played and each of us kids would shout at our parents to win. The best part of it all, my dad won me a basket full of goodies that had homemade jam, chocolate chip cookies, fresh and handpicked berries and strawberries, and a small teddy bear that had a pink heart stitched on its forehead. That day, I felt as if I was being hugged by a rainbow of love, affection, comfort and safety. Reminiscing on that memory is now making me feel weak at the heart because that was the last memory I had of being with my dad before he left the next day.

"I also remember that gift basket I won for you. You were so happy. You wanted to eat the cookies as soon as you opened it. I had to stop you because you were on a sugar high from eating that sugary toast." he says chuckling at the memory. "You absolutely loved that pink teddy with the tiny pink heart stitched on its forehead." His voice begins to soften. "I kissed that teddy bear's forehead and told you that it would be your best friend and that it would never hurt you and will always keep you safe. You held that teddy bear...and you named it Baby Bear because I'd call you baby girl."

It honestly shocks me that he too remembers that day. Every detail. Every image. Is he reading my mind?

"Do you still have that teddy bear, Mia?"

"Yes..." I say, almost tearfully.

"Oh..." he says lightly laughing. "I bet it still has the stitch on its forehead."

"It still does..."

"Hmm...that's good to hear."

The traffic is moving a bit smoothly now and we're finally cleared from the incident that caused the delay.

"Whew, that took forever! Glad that's over. I hope I can find a parking spot once we get there."

***

At the corner, my dad makes a right turn and there are two parking spots at the end of the street in front of the a shop. It's busy here as well but not as busy as the streets we passed.  He parks his car in one of the open spots on the left side of the street and turns off the engine. We both unbuckle our seat belts. I end up being the one to step out of the car first and as soon as I'm about to circle my way around the car to the curb, I feel a hand grab me by the wrist and I'm being pulled back into the car. I landed hard on the seat. In the blink of an eye, a speeding car speeds by, nearly hitting the car door.

My heart is racing. It's racing so hard that I can hardly think. Someone almost hit me.

"Fucking asshole!" He shouts out, looking very pissed off. "That driver almost hit you! You okay, Mia?" He's holding my wrist for dear life as he's looking at me with so much worry. "Hey, look at me, are you okay?!"

"Y-yeah, I'm f-fine. I'll be fine." I'm shaken and I'm almost too afraid to even move. I've had a few experiences of almost getting hit by a car, but nothing like this. Usually I'm very aware, but I guess my emotions about my dad's sudden appearance, my sense of awareness is blocked out.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." I say sharply, and I slip myself out of his grasp. I scooch myself out of the car, this time looking both ways before closing the car door. I walk around the car to the curb of the street.

He grabs his keys and phone, exits the car and locks with the press of the button. He slides his keys and phone into his back pocket as he comes by me, looking at me wearily. He clears his throat, leaning his left hip. "I'm gonna ask again, are you sure you're okay?"

I look down at my feet, trying my best to fight off the lingering shaken feeling. "Like I said, I'm fine. This happens all the time."

"Doesn't matter if it happens all the time, you almost got hurt. Could've triggered an asthma attack." he says, sounding very hurt and scared.

I shoot my head up at him and I look at him with slight shock. "You remeb-"

"Yes, I remember that you have asthma. How could I forget my own daughter's medical condition? Do you have your inhaler with you?"

I scoff. "Of course, I do."

"Show it to me."

I squint at him. "Why? I'm not a child. I'm twenty-seven."

He shakes his head at me and motions me to take it out. "Uh-uh don't matter, just show it to me."

I find this really ridiculous having me show him my inhaler. I feel like a little kid being interrogated. I slip my hand into the pocket of my sweater and take out my inhaler. I show him the red one, the one I have been taking for the past two years. "It has over 85 pumps left."

He comes closer to further inspect it. His eyebrow arch as he carefully looks at the remaining numbers on my inhaler. He nods and backs away.

"Satisfied?" I ask, slipping my inhaler back into my pocket.

"All good!" He says, with a thumbs up and a silly smile. He turns towards the bistro in front of us, with his hands on his hips and looks up at the old school sign of the bistro. "Lets see what they got good in here to eat!"