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Ren shook his head, reaching out to clasp his son’s shoulder. “Leo said you were out with your…boyfriend.”
Oliver felt his throat tighten as he sat down on the sofa, a cushion of space between himself and his father. “Ah yes. I was. And I don’t mean to be rude, and not that I’m not pleased you’re here, but is there a reason you’re paying us a visit without even calling first?”
Ren let out a small laugh, his head shaking. “More blunt than you’ve ever been. How are you doing, Oliver?”
Oliver stared at him. “Well enough. Which you know, I’m sure.”
Ren sighed carefully, shaking his head. “Alright, we’ll skip the pleasantries. God only knows you don’t owe me any of them as I’ve never been the most attentive father.” Oliver winced, his gut clenching because the very last thing he wanted to do was open up a discussion about how his father was never much of one at all. “Your mother is ill.”
Oliver blinked as the words hit him. “How ill?”
“Incredibly. I’ve only just been informed.”
Oliver glanced over at Leo who was determinedly staring anywhere but at Oliver. Clearing his throat, the older sibling nodded. “Alright. With what?”
“Early onset Alzheimer’s. It’s aggressive, advancing faster than most of the doctors expected it to. She’s got an in-home nurse with her, but she’ll either need to be sent to a hospice care center, or have someone home with her.” He gave his son a careful look, and it took Oliver a moment to realize what his father was saying.
“Hang on. Someone… as in me?” Oliver asked with a scoff. His scars began a violent, phantom itch and he squirmed a little.
“I’m only saying…”
“What?” Oliver barked, forgetting all sense of respect and propriety. “You’re saying what, exactly? That I should go back to that foul beast who tortured me for years? That I should forget what I went through because suddenly she’s ill and has no one?”
“Oliver,” Ren interrupted, his voice low and commanding. At the tone, Oliver went stone silent. “Sometimes we need to put the past behind us.”
“Easy for you to say,” Oliver said, his tone stiff. “You weren’t there to see what she’d done. You weren’t there to stop her. I’m not asking you to care after all this time, but I am telling you that I will not subject either of us to that woman ever again.” He looked at his sibling as he finished his thought, and Leo’s shoulders relaxed just a fraction.
Ren let out a small sigh, shaking his head. “She’s not long for the world, you know. She’s not…she doesn’t know much anymore. I’ve been to see her. She didn’t recognize me.”
Oliver bit back a retort, the desire to tell his father that she might not have recognized him anyway, had it not been for the fact that his children looked just like him. Married for nearly thirty years and he spent less than five of them living with his spouse. It made them less than strangers.
“Surely she can get better help than the bitter sons she spent years abusing,” Oliver said quietly.
“She has no one,” Ren said.
Oliver swallowed, then looked away. “She has only herself to blame for that.”
Ren gave him a very careful look. “She also has me. Had I been there…” He stopped and shook his head. “Someday in the future, we’ll sit down, and I’ll let you have a go at me for all my failings as a parent. For now, I thought…I thought you deserved to know about her, and to maybe decide for yourself what you felt is best.”
“And I expect you’re leaving after this? No chanceyouwant to go and stay with your wife?” Oliver challenged.
“I can’t afford to take the time off,” Ren said, looking vaguely apologetic. “But I’m not far from here. You know you’re always welcome.”
“We’ll bear that in mind,” Oliver said with traces of bitterness. His insides were quaking, his mind desperate to have some space to process the fact that his mother—a woman he hated with every fiber of his being—was dying. And there was no stopping it.
“You’re not staying for tea?” Leo asked, speaking for the first time since Oliver had arrived.
Both Ren and Oliver stared at the younger sibling, Oliver with wide eyes. “Ah, no. Not today. But I meant what I said. I’m only in San Francisco. I’d be more than happy to hire a car or charter a flight for you. Just say the word.” Rising, Ren straightened his coat, then turned to Leo who had gotten up first.
The pair embraced lightly, a stiff, too-formal hug, but Ren looked happier than Oliver had ever seen him. It was enough to get him up from the sofa, and enough to step into his father’s waiting arms for his own.
“Will you?” Ren asked.
“Come and see you?” Oliver rubbed his face and sighed. “I suppose we might. If we can find the time.”
Leo offered to see Ren to the door, and the moment they were out of the room, Oliver sank back down. He rested his elbows on his knees, dropping his face into his palms, and didn’t move. Not even when he heard Leo come back into the room.
The sofa dipped as Leo sat, and after a minute, he said, “I guess I didn’t have to call you back for that. Bit pointless, wasn’t it?”
