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“For the tenth time, Dad, it’s not that I want to stay here, it’s that I’m trying to help you. This place is a health hazard and if you keep eating that garbage seven days a week, you’re gonna kill yourself.”
“That’s my choice, kid.” He jerks his thumb at himself.
“I’ll stay a few more days, Dad, finish getting the inside as ship-shape as I can and then I’ll come by once a week and do some cooking and cleaning. How’s that?”
“Why the hell for?” he snaps.
“Because you’re my dad.”
He rolls his eyes. “You need to get out there ‘n live your own life. You should be shacked up, having brats of your own by now.”
“If I had a husband and kids I’d still be here right now, because you’re my father.”
“What’s that guy that came to the hospital to you? That your boyfriend?”
“No.”
“He already married? Treatin’ you like a side-piece?”
“No, Dad. That’s the guy I work for. It’s a temporary job and it comes with room and board. I told you about this. I’m gonna probably need another job in two more months; maybe I’ll get something half way between here and there so that I can-”
“Don’t bother. I’m fine.”
My father is stubborn. So stubborn.
“Should give him your doe eyes. He seems like a good guy.”
I jolt. Doe eyes? I have doe eyes?
“And where’s yer brother, anyway? He still in jail? He go to court yet?”
“He’s in the hospital. He tried to hurt himself just before you had that stroke, so he’s being carefully watched while treated. I’m trying to get his doctor changed to someone who’s willing to try to find him a better medication regimen. He still has court coming.” I lean against the wall in the doorway.
“Medication,” he scoffs.
“Don’t start, Dad.” I cross my arms.
“Hurtin’ himself. He’s just like his mother was. All fuckin’ mushy. Candy ass.”
I stare at him.
“Was?”
Dad looks at me for a second longer than he usually does, and then rolls his eyes.
“Was? What happened to her? Is she still alive?”
“Is, was, who knows what happened to her? I sure as fuck couldn’t care less. She left because she had her head in the clouds and I had two feet firmly here on planet earth.” He shrugs and changes the channel to sports.
I sigh.
“You look just like her,” he mumbles. “Thank God you’ve got better sense.”
I blink in surprise.
A backhanded compliment? That’s the closest thing to a compliment I can ever remember getting from him.
And the comment explains a lot. A lot of why he rarely looks at me when he’s talking to me. The way he just looked at me was the longest amount of eye contact I think he’s made in years.
What made them even get together? Was it her doe eyes that hypnotized him? Did they have anything in common? Was there a time when they were happy? When he was more than this miserable, neglectful, negative person? Shane and I are four years apart in age, so was there a period of bliss for them before it went bad?
I feel like I need therapy, suddenly.
I give my head a shake at the sound of the doorbell ringing to bring myself back to reality. It’s after ten o’clock. If Dad’s friends are back, I’m going to lose it.
I go to the front door and open it.
“Andrew. Oh…hey.”
He’s smiling, holding up two cups of take-out coffee.
“I got the part!” he exclaims.
“Oh my gosh! Congrats!”
He hugs me awkwardly, coffees in each hand, and then he backs up with coffee sloshing down one of his hands.
“Ouch,” he groans.
“Omigod, are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” He shakes his hand and backs up as I come outside. “I’m off tonight and figured you could probably use a decent coffee, and I was excited and had to share my news, so… I got this for you.” He passes me one.
“Oh. Um… thanks. I don’t think I can drink this, though. I’ll be up all night.”
“Shoot.” He flashes a grin. “Us night people are really societal outcasts. Sorry.”
I snicker. “I’ll heat it up in the morning. I’m sure it’ll be way better than the instant dishwater coffee my father insists is perfectly acceptable. Coffee is not coffee. Am I right?”
“So right. He doing any better?” he asks.
I shake my head. “He’s so cantankerous.” I sit down on the step and Andrew sits beside me.
It’s kind of a tight fit for us to sit side by side. Too close for comfort for me, anyway.
The other day he flagged a taxi for me after I dropped stuff off for Austin and picked up some clothes and my laptop. I guess he paid attention to the address I gave the cab driver before the car pulled away.
I’m not sure how to feel about him being here, and I’m about to stand back up to get a little bit of personal space when a car stops at the curb.
