But what about Bridget? What about our Friday dinners, our weekends, her room, which I had so carefully furnished? I didn’t have time to finish these thoughts before the phone rang again. Bridget’s name lit up on the screen.
My hands trembled as I answered the call. «Grandpa,» her voice sounded muffled, as if she were speaking from under a blanket. «Do you know yet?»
«About Cincinnati?» I asked quietly. «I just found out.»
«I don’t want to go,» her voice sounded desperate. «I don’t want to leave you, my friends, my school.»
«Sweetheart,» I tried to speak calmly, even though I was boiling inside. «Sometimes we have to make difficult decisions. Your parents think this is best for everyone.»
«No,» she almost shouted. «It’s best for them. They don’t care how I feel. I’m not going, Grandpa. I’m staying with you.»
I closed my eyes, feeling my heart break. More than anything in the world, I wanted to say yes. To tell her she could stay with me. That we would find a way. That I would fight for her like I had fought for my share of the house.
But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t drag her back into the conflict between adults. Couldn’t make her choose between her parents and me.
«Bridget, listen to me,» I said softly but firmly. «Cincinnati isn’t that far away. Three hours by car. I’ll come to see you. You’ll come to see me on vacation. We’ll talk on the phone every day. Nothing will change.»
«Everything will change,» she sobbed. «Dad hates you. He won’t let me see you.»
«Your dad doesn’t hate me,» I lied. «He’s just very hurt and upset right now. It will pass with time. In the meantime, we’ll find a way to stay close even if we’re far apart.»
There was silence on the line. Broken only by her quiet sobs.
«Do you promise?» She finally asked. «Do you promise we won’t lose each other?»
«I promise,» I said. And at that moment, I vowed to myself that I would keep that promise. No matter what it took.
They left a month later. Parker didn’t call me. Didn’t say goodbye. We hadn’t seen each other since that day in court. Odelia sent a short message with Bridget’s new address. And I was grateful to her for this small gesture of reconciliation.
The first few weeks without my granddaughter were difficult. The apartment felt empty and quiet, especially on Fridays, when I was used to hearing her laughter, discussing school with her, and cooking her favorite meals.
We talked on the phone every evening, and I sent her a new phone with an unlimited plan so that Parker couldn’t control our communication through the bills. She told me about her new school, new friends, and new home. I could see that she was trying to be strong, but sometimes her voice trembled, and I knew that it was as hard for her as it was for me.
Two months after they moved, in mid-February, I decided to visit Bridget. I warned her in advance, but I didn’t call Parker or Odelia. I knew they might forbid it.
Cincinnati greeted me with wet snow and a chilly wind. The Navigator led me to a small but neat house in the suburbs. Standard development, identical houses on identical plots. So unlike their former home in Lexington, spacious, with character, and a well-kept garden.
I parked across the street and texted Bridget that I had arrived. A minute later, the front door swung open, and she ran out to meet me without even putting on a jacket. «Grandpa!»
She threw herself into my arms, and I held her tight, feeling tears welling up in my eyes. «You came!»
«Of course I did,» I smiled. «I promised.»
We sat in a cafe near her house. Bridget talked about her new school, her new friends, and how much she missed Lexington. «Dad works more now,» she said, poking at her ice cream with a spoon. «He comes home late, often irritable. Mom got a job at a transportation company, but they pay less than in Lexington. They still fight a lot.»
I listened, trying not to show how much it hurt me to hear about their difficulties. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want their life to fall apart. I only wanted justice and respect.
«And yesterday,» Bridget lowered her voice. «I heard Mom tell Dad that moving was a mistake, that they should have just taken out a loan and paid you your share. Dad got angry and left the house, and didn’t come back until morning.»
I was silent, not knowing what to say. This was not the kind of information a 16-year-old girl should be sharing with her grandfather. These were not the kinds of problems a child should be worrying about.
«Bridget,» I took her hand. «Whatever is going on between your parents, it’s not your fault, and it’s not your responsibility. You don’t have to be a mediator or worry about them. They’re adults. They’ll figure it out.»
«I know,» she sighed. «It’s just that sometimes I feel like our family will never be the same again.»
«It won’t,» I agreed honestly. «But that doesn’t mean there won’t be happiness or love. It’ll just be different.»
We spent the whole day together. I took her to the local art museum. We had lunch at a nice restaurant. And just walked around the city, talking about everything under the sun.
When it was time to say goodbye, she hugged me tightly. «Come visit again, Grandpa,» she whispered. «Promise?»
«I promise.» I kissed her on the top of her head. «And you come visit me during spring break. I already talked to your mom. She’s okay with it.»
«Really?» Bridget beamed. «Mom said yes?»
«She did,» I smiled. «See, everything’s working out.»
Watching her run toward the house, I felt a strange sense of peace. Yes, much had been lost. But something important had been preserved. My connection with my granddaughter. Maybe even the beginning of a thaw in my relationship with Odelia.
And although Parker and I would probably never reconcile, I could live with that. I could find peace in what I had, rather than mourn what I had lost.
In the spring, life took a new turn. Bridget spent two weeks of her vacation with me. And it was a wonderful time. We went to the theater, to parks, cooked together, and just talked for hours.
She told me that her parents’ relationship had stabilized. It wasn’t perfect, but at least they had stopped fighting all the time. «Dad found a gym near work,» she said with a hint of irony. «So now he doesn’t need a home gym.»
I smiled, appreciating the irony of the situation. All that tension. All that pain. Everything that destroyed our family. Because of a gym that turned out not to be so necessary after all.
My own life had changed too. I started taking gardening classes at the local community center, and met some interesting people my age. I especially enjoyed talking to Eleanor, the widow of a literature professor, an intelligent and refined woman with a gentle smile and attentive eyes.
«You have to introduce me to Eleanor,» Bridget said one evening, when I mentioned our trip to the concert.
«Do you think so?» I blushed like a teenager.
«Of course,» she smiled slyly. «Grandpa, you deserve to be happy, and I want to meet the woman who makes you smile like that when you talk about her.»
In June, when Bridget came back for vacation, I introduced them. Eleanor and my granddaughter hit it off right away, talking for hours about books, movies, and, to my embarrassment, me.
«She’s amazing,» Bridget said that evening, «and she really appreciates you.»
I smiled, thinking about how strange it all was. A year ago, I was a gloomy old man living in an extension to my ungrateful son’s house. Now I had my own apartment, new friends, and maybe even a new relationship. And most importantly, I had regained my self-esteem by finally standing up for my rights.
In July, Emmett invited me to a barbecue in honor of his birthday. There were many guests, including Eleanor, with whom I was now openly dating. During the celebration, Emmett took me aside.
«So, old friend, do you have any regrets?» he asked, looking at me intently.
I thought about it, looking at the gathered guests, at Eleanor, who was enthusiastically discussing something with Emmett’s wife, at the summer garden bathed in sunlight. «Do I regret losing my relationship with my son? Yes,» I replied honestly. «Do I regret standing up for my dignity? No, not for a second.»
Emmett nodded as if he had expected that answer. «You know,» he said after a pause, «I never told you this, but Miriam made me promise something before she died.»
«What was it?» I asked surprised.
«She said, ‘Look after Cedric. Don’t let him lose himself. He’s too good for this world, too trusting.’ And I promised.»
I felt a lump rising in my throat. Miriam. She was always wiser than me, always saw further. Even as she was leaving, she tried to protect me.
«Thank you,» I squeezed my friend’s hand. «For everything.»
In August, Bridget called with unexpected news. «Grandpa, Dad said I can come back to Lexington!» Her voice rang with excitement. «I can live with you and finish school here.»
«What?» I couldn’t believe my ears. «Parker suggested it himself?»
«No, I asked him,» she admitted. «I told him I missed my old school and my friends, that I wanted to be close to you. I thought he would refuse, but he said that if you agreed, he wouldn’t mind.»
I was stunned. It was unexpected. A small gesture of reconciliation, or simply an admission of defeat, or perhaps an attempt to make his daughter happy, despite his own resentment.
«Of course I agree,» I said, feeling joy fill my heart. «Your room is waiting for you.»
Bridget arrived a week later. Parker brought her himself, the first time we had seen each other face to face in all this time. He was thinner than I remembered, with new wrinkles around his eyes and gray hair at his temples. We exchanged formal greetings and discussed the details. School, expenses, vacations, visits.
Neither of us mentioned the past or touched on old wounds. It was a business-like conversation between two people who had once been a family. When Parker left, Bridget hugged him goodbye, and I saw him whisper something in her ear. She nodded, then looked at me with a new expression.
«What did he say?» I asked as we went up to the apartment.
«He said to take care of you,» she replied quietly, «and that he’s glad I have you.»
I stopped on the steps, trying to make sense of those words. It wasn’t an apology, nor an admission of wrongdoing. Parker wasn’t ready for that yet, but it was a small acknowledgement, a small step.
In the fall, life took on a new rhythm. Bridget went back to her old school, happy to be reunited with her friends. I resumed my work in the garden, now on the community flowerbed near the house. Eleanor became a regular guest at our house, and sometimes we spent the night at her cozy home on the outskirts of Lexington.
On Thanksgiving, Bridget flew to her parents’ house in Cincinnati. She returned pensive but calm. «They’re trying,» she said when I asked how Parker and Odilia were doing. «Dad still works a lot, but they fight less. Mom even asked about you.»
«Really?» I was surprised. «What did she want to know?»
«She asked if you were happy,» Bridget smiled. «I said yes. That you have your own home, friends, Eleanor. That you are finally living your own life, not someone else’s.»
I thought about her words. Indeed, for the first time in a long time, I was living my own life, by my own rules, without having to constantly look back at other people’s expectations and demands.
