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That’s the thought that’s been swirling around my head all day. And it’s true. I didn’t want to hold Erin back by forcing her to write for me, but I hurt her, and I didn’t want that. Because I want her.
I want to be with her, but I don’t know how to express something that’s that deep or real when it’s barely been any time at all. It feels too fast, though that’s what happened to my dad with my mom. He always said that it was love at first sight with her, and that he knew that he was going to marry her within days.
Examining my feelings about Erin, I feel it. It should be impossible, but there’s a bone-deep knowledge that she is it for me.
Too bad I’ve already fucked it up, even though it was the right thing to do.
It’s late in the evening, but I pull out my phone and dial the number for my dad’s facility. I need to hear his voice, even though he probably won’t even know that it’s me.
One of the nurses answers. “Hello?”
“Hi,” I say, clearing my throat. “This is Malik Ellis.”
“Hey, Mr. Ellis, good to hear from you. How can I help you?”
I sigh. “I know it’s late, but if my father’s awake, I was wondering if I could speak to him?”
“I can see if he’s awake.”
“How’s he doing?”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line that makes my heart skip a beat. “He’s all right,” the nurse says. “Good days and bad days. But on the whole he seems comfortable and happy.”
“Good.” I try to keep the emotion from cracking through my voice. It’s not easy.
Waiting for her to find out if he’s awake feels like the longest three minutes of my life. I want to talk to him, but at the same time I’m honestly not sure if I’m hoping that he’ll be awake or hoping that he won’t be.
“He is awake,” the nurse says. “And I think you’ll be happy.”
“Why?”
I hear the smile in her voice. “He’s mostly lucid today.”
A breath rushes out of me. It’s rare that he’s lucid at all, let alone when I call to speak to him.
“Malik?”
Leaning forward, I brush a hand over my face and breathe. “Hey, Dad.”
He chuckles, and that sound throws me back. “Good to hear from you. I guess I hear from you more often than I remember, huh?”
I clear my throat. “Yes.”
My dad sighs. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Dad.”
“Still.” He pauses. Another chuckle. “But I do know one thing and that’s that you don’t call at this hour. I’m sure that you had a reason?”
Shaking my head, I can’t help but smile. My dad has always been perceptive. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Okay, that’s great. What’s the real reason?”
I laugh. “I met someone. And…it’s like you and mom. Her name is Erin.”
“Then why don’t you sound happier?”
“I…” Swallowing, I try to form the words. “I fucked it up. It was for a good reason, and it’s better for her this way. But I still want to be with her.”
“Then be with her.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Isn’t it?” Dad asks. “Is there a reason you can’t be together?”
I’m shaking my head even though he can’t see me. “She’s a writer too. A good one. I don’t want her standing in my shadow.”
“So don’t block her sunlight.”
“Dad—”
“No, son,” he says. “I know my brain isn’t what it used to be. And I may not be able to give you this advice again. If she is what you say, then you can’t let her go. Be with her and keep her in front of you so that she’s never in your shadow.
“I don’t really know how far that metaphor goes,” he says with a laugh, “but you know what I’m saying. If you can find the kind of love that I had with your mother, then no career—yours or hers—should stand in the way of that.”
He’s not wrong. But it might already be too late. “She's younger than me. A lot younger."
"Age is just a number."
"Okay," I agree slowly. Then I add, "I hurt her.”
“That's more important than her age. Can it be fixed?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. That phone call with her…I know that I blindsided her. And if I were Erin, I wouldn’t want to talk to me. Maybe ever.
Dad’s voice is kind. “Are you willing to try?”
“Of course.”
“Then try. And make sure that you have one hell of a peace offering.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “That, I can do.”
“Good. And I expect you to tell me all about it when it’s done.”
“I will,” I promise. “How have you been?”
“Me? Oh, I’ve been fine. Chasing chickens a lot. They get out a lot here.”
Those words make me pause. “What chickens?”
Dad makes a sound like I’m being ridiculous. “Those chickens, you know, the ones that your mother keeps in the backyard. Against my objections, I might add. And why does everything taste like metal?”
