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Soon enough, I found myself getting immersed in the movie. About halfway through the movie there was a knock at the door. I thought I heard wrong at first and didn’t move, but then there was another one.
“Who is it?” I called out, lazily climbing out of bed to check who it was. I hadn’t ordered any room service so I wondered who it might be at this late hour at night.
I opened the door to reveal a distressed looking Dylan staring at me. His eyes were sunken and he looked like he was torn up.
“Kathy,” he breathed out in a shaky whisper as soon as he saw me. “I need you.”
Chapter 21
Dylan
‘DAD’
The word flashed across my screen, and I nearly did a double take.
It had been years since I had seen those words on my phone. Feeling immediately concerned that something had happened to my mother, I picked up the call at once.
"Hello, Dad? Everything okay?" My tone was urgent.
"Hey… Dylan, my son," he slurred. "I was just thinking of you. Did I call you?"
"Dad, have you been drinking again?" I asked, sternly. I looked over at my watch. It was almost midnight.
"Come on, let your old man have some fun," he replied with a laugh. "It was one glass."
"Judging by your state, I have a hard time believing it was just one glass," I sighed.
Having him call me like this, drunk in the middle of the night, was one of the reasons why we stopped talking in the first place. It felt like a heavy blow to the chest to see him slip back into his bad habits after he had promised me that he would abstain.
"It was… just a sip," he hiccupped. In the background, I heard a loud sound of glass breaking.
The image of him tumbling around in the living room, drunk out of his mind, and knocking over glass bottles was all too familiar from my childhood.
"Whoops," he chuckled.
"Dad, you are very drunk right now," my voice was laced with disappointment. "I thought you promised me that you will stop. Not just for my sake, but for your own. Can’t you see this is killing you?"
"I'm... completely in control," he tried to explain but was interrupted by the sound of another glass object shattering to pieces behind him.
"Is this how you want to spend the rest of your life?" I asked. "Stumbling around, not remembering anything from the night before?"
"Your mother went to bed early."
"That's not an excuse, Dad," I replied. "I really thought you had been progressing with your sobriety."
A heavy silence fell on the other end of the line.
"Guess I am just a fuck up, right, son?" he continued after a moment. "A fuck up! Hell, who am I even doing this for? My drink has always been there for me when you weren’t."
His words cut through me like a sharp blade. I swallowed once, knowing that if I were to respond, it would just make things worse. My dad had a penchant for aggression whenever he drank too much.
"Got nothing to say do you?" He kept poking at me.
"I don’t think I should be talking to you when you are in this state," I replied, trying my best to remain calm.
"Shall I book an appointment then, to speak to my own son?" he barked.
I rubbed my temples to fight back the headache that was quickly forming. "Dad, you know you are being ridiculous right now."
