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I can picture him leaning back in his chair, his hands gripping the armrests as he picks me apart with his dark gaze. Fortunately, he doesn’t have the advantage of seeing me in person, but I know he’s still going to strike to the heart of the matter.
“About as shitty as I expected,” I answer truthfully. I’m drawn to the window again, staring at the little cottage and willing Cambria to walk outside. I need to see her and make sure she’s okay.
Silence stretches between us, and I wait for Romeo to finish his assessment of me and my situation. I know he has an opinion and won’t be shy about sharing it.
“What’s the point of this visit?”
“To see my father.”
“Don’t be obstinate. If that was it, you’ve already done it. Why are you still there?”
I let out a breath, my shoulders dropping as I squeeze my eyes shut. “Because the nurse insisted–”
“You don’t take orders from nurses,” he interjects. “So I’ll ask you again. Why are you there?”
I don’t correct him, but technically, I took orders from the curvy little nurse that very first morning. She bossed me into making coffee and then bossed me into sitting at the table.
“To… fuck, I don’t know. Talk to him, I guess. Make amends and whatever end-of-life bullshit kids are supposed to do with ailing parents.”
“Is it that bad?”
I shrug, even though I know he can’t see me. Truthfully, I don’t want to think about it. I never pictured myself caring about my father’s passing. Then again, some part of me always thought we’d have time later.
I finally settle on, “It’s not great,”
“And have you talked to your father? Made amends and all that bullshit?” he asks, using my words.
“What do you think?” I grumble.
“I think you’re a very private person, which I respect. It’s your family and your business, but I think you owe it to yourself to have no regrets, not about this, at least. Say your piece, let him say his, and then you’ll know where you stand.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“Dante, I don’t tell you this as your boss. I tell you this as a friend.”
I pull my phone away from my ear and stare at it. Sure, Romeo is my closest friend and ally, but we don’t talk about it. We certainly don’t acknowledge it.
“Thalia has given me a new perspective, or maybe I’m getting a little soft, but you deserve to know your place in my life. And as my friend, I want you to make the most of this visit. It sounds like it may be your last.”
Something about that finally breaks through. I don’t have more time. “Later” isn’t guaranteed. This could be it. Am I okay with leaving things this way forever?
“Thanks,” I say after swallowing thickly around the lump in my throat.
We hang up a few minutes later, and I slump against the kitchen counter, rubbing my temples. How do I relate to my old man? How do I have a conversation with him when all I can think about is cleaning up his vomit after he passed out on my tenth birthday? Or collecting his drunk ass from bar after bar when he became belligerent? Or his mottled red and purple face yelling at me and kicking me out at seventeen?
The now familiar sound of my dad shuffling around in his walker echoes down the hall, getting closer and closer by the second. I curse under my breath, then straighten, preparing myself for the battle.
“Just wake up from a nap?” I ask as my father makes his appearance.
“What’s it to you?” he snaps, making his way into the kitchen and parking in front of a cupboard.
I take a deep breath, holding back my first response offuck you too.
“Just making conversation,” I say instead.
My old man opens the cupboard door and tries grabbing a class, but the walker is in the way, and he can’t reach it.
“Here, let me help.”
