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The nurse smiles, charmed. Then she's offering me a look of sympathy. "Good luck, son."
I turn over the words in my head. "Mom agreed to rehab?" That can't be possible.
"She hasn't been conscious much of the night." He pats me on the shoulder again. "But tomorrow—"
Bullshit, she'll agree tomorrow, but I'm too tired to fight right now. And it's not like he really believes Mom is going to go to rehab, get clean, and stay clean.
"You want to stay, wait for her to wake up?" he offers.
I do. Don't particularly want to talk to him, but I want to stay with mom. I nod. "I'll get coffee."
"It's only the vending machine at this time."
Doesn't matter. "You want anything?"
"Black coffee." He pulls out his cell to make a call.
I don't stay long enough to figure out who it is. I head back to the lobby. It's still crowded, but now it's a blur of faces and noises. None of them make an impression.
There's a pattern on the floor. That doesn't make an impression either.
The coffee machine is around the corner, halfway down the hall. It's the standard machine in every hospital and bus station. It's going to be shit coffee, but I need the energy.
I get two cups of black coffee and move back to the waiting room.
Dad is sitting in that same chair, only now he's sitting up straight.
As I hand off the coffee and sit next to him, I note the signs this is wearing on him. He has dark circles. His eyes eyes are tired. His perfect suit is wrinkled, and his shirt isn't tucked in—that never fucking happens.
He's still a handsome guy, but he looks like he hasn't slept in days.
Probably hasn't.
I probably look worse.
Dad takes a sip of his coffee. "Thanks."
I nod no problem. I don't have anything to say to him.
He motions to my left arm. "New ink?"
"I guess." I got the left sleeve a year ago, but that's new to him.
"It's nice work."
I look at my father and cock a brow. "You would know?"
"I was young once. Made mistakes."
"A tattoo is a mistake now?"
"When I was your age, only bikers and criminals got tattoos."
"And rock stars?"
He chuckles. It's the same deep chuckle I have. "You never see your kid as a rock star. As anything but the little boy who went as a police officer for Halloween."
Last thing I should be is a cop, but I do remember that year. I remember how excited we all were about the costume. Mom and dad took me out trick or treating. And they dressed up in matching princess and Prince Charming costumes.
