Page 60 of Rough

He paused for a moment, and I hoped he was finished. I’d been kicked when I was down in a fight, but never in an argument. My father, however, had done just that. Changing wasn’t going to be easy, nor was I even sure that it was be possible.

When I looked at him, his eyes were closed. His mouth was twisted to the side, and his jaw was tight.

I stood. “Pop, you alright?”

He opened his eyes and then inhaled a long breath through his nose. “I’ll be fine. That coffee might not have been such a good idea.”

“Your heart?”

“Mind your own fuckin’ business, Son. No, it’s not my god damned heart. It’s my gut. You’ll be old one day, and then you’ll understand. Sit down.”

Reluctantly, I sat.

He met my worried gaze. “Let’s say we could find all fifty of those women. If we lined ‘em up out in the street and let them talk with each other about you for half an hour, and then you asked each one of ‘em individually, how many do you think would say you’re a good, honest man?”

“You made your point.” I turned to face him. “I’ll try my best to be a better man.”

“Ask that girl on a date,” he said.

“I might.”

“I got a feeling about this, Son. I really do. So, ask her. For your old man. If it doesn’t work out. Fine. If it does? Well, that’s fine, too.”

“Who knows if she’ll even go?”

“You will,” he said. “If you gather enough guts to ask.”

“I’ll see what happens.”

He locked eyes with me. “The two most memorable moments in a man’s life are when he kisses the woman he’s going to marry for the first time, and the day he marries her.”

“Why’d you tell me that?” I asked.

“Because.” He relaxed in his chair. “You have yet to experience either.”

I thought about it for a moment, and then stood. stood. “Hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“We done here?” I asked.

“You feel like someone kicked you in the gut?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Over and over.”

“Good.” He grinned. “We’re done.”

We had breakfast, and then spent the day together, talking about my childhood, the club, and how important to me the men of FFMC had become. Although he always called us shit-heads or dip-shits, at least during our discussions on that day, he didn’t.

I sent Tegan several text messages throughout the day, but she didn’t respond to any of them.

It wasn’t surprising, considering where she was.

I enjoyed the time with my father that day more than any other that I could remember. For me, it was a turning point in my life.

Being honorable in all respects wasn’t going to be easy, but I was going to try my best to make my father proud.

At the end of the day, I gave him a hug, and thanked him for our talk. I had business to take care of, and as crazy as it seemed considering what was about to happen, I knew he’d be proud of me for what I was about to do.