The Therapist's Son // Ashton Irwin [AU] ✔

34.

I was planning on this being the last chapter, but I decided to try and drag it out and write two 'meh' length chapters instead of one long one.

*****

Doctor Irwin had told me once that acceptance was key. In order to move on, you had to accept and make peace with the past.

Let's be honest.

I wasn't happy to see my dad at the airport, and peace was the last thing on my mind. But I was going to make the most out of these seven days.

"I've been so excited to have you visit. I've missed you so much," He said. My eyes rolled so far back, I was afraid they'd get stuck. I hadn't heard from him in forever. Dad took my suitcase from me and rolled it himself. Our welcoming embrace had been short lived, awkward and tense, but he was pretending not to notice."I set up and cleaned the guest bedroom. Oh, and I actually did some shopping." He chuckled.

Dad hated shopping.

And cleaning.

I said nothing. I merely followed him out the doors to the LAX parking lot. Everywhere I looked, people were hugging hello or goodbye. Men in suits were on the phone, throwing commands at their secretary across the country, the business trip anxiety already having its toll. It was so weird to hear all these people, surrounding me, most of them speaking in American accents.

Dad unlocked the car, muttering to himself as he popped the trunk for my luggage. I got in the front seat. Turning my phone off airplane mode, I logged into Spotify and went straight to the playlist Ashton and I had created together while we were bored one day.

Dad was a chatterbox the entire way home. Talking about how I'd love the apartment and how he had bought the same kind of mattress that I had taken with me when we moved.

"I do have some work to do this evening, but I'll probably call and see what you want for dinner on my way back. Until then I bought a ton of snacks that you used to like." I hummed in agreement, actually surprised that he remembered what I would and wouldn't eat.

We pulled up to an apartment building about forty minutes later. It was nice that Dad had found a place to close to an airport, but at the same time, the building wasn't a total disaster like you'd expect in Los Angeles.

We would have had to drive about another thirty five minutes north to get to our old house.

"Come on, I'll show you inside." He unhooked his seatbelt and hastily opened his door. I nodded, following suit. After getting my luggage out of the backseat, we walked down the sidewalk to apartment four.

Dad fumbled with his keys, nearly dropping them before he managed to unlock the door and hold it open.

The first thing I noticed when I walked in was that even though it was smaller than I had imagined, the place was spotless. Either Dad had developed OCD, or he now lived at work.

"It's nice." Those were probably the first two words I had said since I got off the plane almost an hour ago.

"Thanks. Your room is down the hall," He smiled. "It's going to be a fun week. I've got to run, they need me back at three. I'm assuming you're tired. I'll let you get settled in and I'll call you later to see what you want for dinner, okay?" I nodded, muttering an 'okay' in response.

"Hey, Dad?" I asked, mouth dry as he prepared to leave.

Make peace. Make peace. Make peace. Make peace.

"Yeah?"

"You never...I didn't..." I thought of the best way to word it, my tongue running over my lips. "You stopped messaging."

He sighed, already knowing what I meant.

"I felt like a failure of a father," He admitted, coming clean. "One of my little girls was dead. The other moved to Hornsby to start over. I had been against you moving away at all. I thought we could get you help here, but Debbie was persistent. Still, in Australia, you were finally happy - or at least you seemed like it. Besides time zone, and work," He swallowed harshly. "I just thought you were better off without me."

My voice quivered when I said: "You're my dad. I'm always going to need your support. I'm so sorry about Ashley. I still think of her every day. But you just threw me away too."

"I didn't mean to, Nat," He sounded genuine. "I promise you, I didn't mean to. It was just bad timing. We were all going through a lot."

Silence hung in the air, so thick it could be sliced with a knife. You could hear a pin drop on the hardwood floors. I shifted my weight and Dad cleared his throat.

"I'd like you to start visiting more often, though. A week every other month, maybe? We have some meding to do, you know?" His suggestion took my by surprise, but I knew what he meant, and for once, I agreed with him.

"Go to work, Dad, we can talk later" I promised, knowing he was going to be late. He nodded, turning and leaving, reminding me to lock the door.

I wandered down the hall, pulling my black suitcase behind me. I assumed the door with the letter 'N' on it led to my room. Opening the door, I noticed the room was very plain and dull.

But it was temporary.

Maybe Dad would let me decorate a little the more I start visiting. I unpacked my clothes into the drawers and then I walked across the hall to the only bathroom, enjoying the sound of the soft thumps of my socked feet on the hardwood floor. We had carpeted floors at home in Australia.

Something caught my eye on my way back to my room. I don't know how I had missed it on my way to the bathroom, or my room to begin with.

Family photos decorated the hallway walls. Specifically pictures of me and Ashley growing up. Dad had arranged them chronologically, the picture of Ashley holding me in her lap at the hospital all the way up until a copy of the photo we took together at Christmas last year.

Mom didn't keep pictures of us anymore.

She didn't like constant reminders.

I flopped back to my room, torn between taking a nap and going to visit someone very near and dear to me.

Deciding I was tired and that it could wait until tomorrow, I laid down and drifted off to sleep.