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“Great! Levi said they’ll be done in a couple of months.”
“I don’t understand why you felt the need to buy that trash heap of a house, Benjamin.”
For this exact reason.
I hold myself back from saying that thought out loud. “I felt like it was the next logical step in establishing myself here,” I respond instead.
Mom just harrumphs since she’s also given me shit about doing more to be a part of the town. I hold my laugh in as I head upstairs to shower.
When I come back down an hour later, I hear my parents’ murmured voices in the kitchen. Naturally, I listen in, wondering what they’re talking about.
“You need to talk to him about what’s going on, Charles,” Mom says in that tone that offers no argument.
“I know, Sybil, I just keep seeing the expression on his face when he said he thought I was disappointed in him. I can’t get it out of my head. I figured if I just stayed quiet, he’d be able to make his own decisions without my interference,” Dad responds. So that’s why he’s been so reserved these past few weeks. I guess calling him out on his feelings made him take a step back for a bit.
Deciding to put them out of their misery, I clear my throat, striding into the room as if I hadn’t heard them talking about me. “Hey, guys.” I open the fridge door to grab a water bottle before turning back to the two of them. They’re both standing there with wide eyes, afraid I heard what they were talking about.
“What’s going on?” I ask, continuing my charade of ignorance. Mom is the first one to snap out of the awkwardness.
“Your dad has something he needs to talk to you about.”
Dad’s head comically whips toward Mom. I can tell he wants to tell her off, but knows he’d never get very far if he did. He sighs, resigned to have the conversation instead of continuing to fight with her. “Yeah, I’d like to talk with ya, son. Shall we go to my office?”
“Sure, Dad.” I bite my cheek to keep from laughing at the two of them until we start walking to Dad’s office. The humor of the moment dissipates as my stomach begins knotting. I had no desire to have this conversation when I first started at the clinic. I’m still not sure I’m ready to have it now.
I could start by acknowledging how much of a stubborn asshole I’ve been about taking over. It would at least explain where my head has been these past couple of weeks. I’m just not sure it would make any difference. Dad’s never seen me as anything other than a fuckup. Finally being okay with running the clinic is probably not going to make a huge difference.
We sit down in the chairs in front of his desk, just like we used to do when I was growing up. The silence is deafening, and I’m not sure if I should start or if he wants to.
“Well, you want to tell me how your trip to Greensboro went? You’ve been pretty cagey about the whole thing.”
“Sure, we can rip the Band-Aid off right now. Uh, I found out Rebecca was cheating on me and went to confront her, then went to my sad apartment and felt shitty about being an asshole all week at the clinic, and then I came home and bought a house. It was an interesting trip.”
“Jesus, son. Your mom just said you guys broke up. I didn’t know about the rest of it.”
I look at my dad, who looks a little uncomfortable, and a laugh bursts out of my chest at the absurdity of this whole situation. He joins in, making the tension between us ease. His hand reaches out, squeezing my forearm in a surprisingly comforting embrace.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out between you two. I never fully understood Rebecca, but losing someone special to you is still tough.”
“Dad, she stopped being special to me several months ago; I just didn’t notice until now.”
“Well, she wasn’t the best… Ya know, I’m just going to stop there. No sense in disparaging her.”
I smile at Dad. He’s always been a glass-half-full kind of guy, so if he wasn’t a huge fan of her, I dodged a huge bullet.
“Look, son. I wanted to talk to you about what you said in my office on your first day at the clinic. I probably should’ve had this conversation a long time ago, but you know how much I hate conflict.”
I stay silent as he gets his thoughts together.
“I’m sorry you feel like I’m disappointed in you. I’ve never once been disappointed in you. Have there been times I didn’t completely agree with your decisions? Sure. Were there times I wanted to wring your annoying teenage neck? Absolutely. None of that means I’m disappointed in you. I couldn’t be prouder of the man you’ve become.”
I’m stunned. I have no words to even explain what it means to me to hear that from him.
After a few seconds of stunned silence, Dad asks, “Can I ask why you thought I was disappointed in you?”
“Forgetting about my sullen teen years, I guess it started when I went to school at Cornell instead of your alma mater. Then, when I got the job at the animal hospital instead of coming to work at the clinic, it felt like I’d solidified your disappointment in me.”
“Well shit, son. I’m sorry. I never intended to make you feel that way. I guess I was just worried you weren’t making choices that would ultimately make you happy. You always seemed so stressed at your job. Like you were clamoring for some unreachable goal. Every time I saw you, it seemed like another piece of the boy I remembered was gone. It was hard to watch you disappear and not say anything.”
