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“Where’s the whiskey?” he croaks. He looks and smells like he hasn’t shaved or bathed since last time I was here.
“Later. Here, eat this.” I hand him the wrapped sandwich I bought on the way over.
He takes it without complaint, unwraps a corner, and looks at it. “What izzit?”
“Ham and cheese. You’ll like it. Eat the whole thing and I’ll give you the whiskey.”
He gives me a suspicious glance, but takes a bite. I keep putting groceries away while he chews.
“Whah’s new with you?” he asks, watching me work.
“Not much.”
No point in telling him about my life. He won’t remember anything I say later, anyway. Even so, for some reason I find myself telling him about Rory. “You remember Aurora?” I open a cupboard, stack some cans of canned soup on a shelf. “She’s back in town.”
Dad scowls. “‘Rora? Whah th’hell’s she doin’ here?”
“She’s back for a while to help her dad. He’s sick. Don’t know if you heard that.”
“Nope. Din’ know. He’s got money for nurses and shit. Why’s he needherhere?”
Dad used to sort of like Aurora, at first — before I started dating her. When we’d go over to the Wilkins place to work, he’d chat her up. Tease her and stuff, flirting with her, like old men who don’t want to admit to themselves they’re old do with young, pretty girls. He never crossed any lines with her, though. Probably because Mr. Wilkins paid well. Dad didn’t want to lose a plum job.
When it finally came out that Aurora and I were seeing each other, reactions among our parents were mixed, to say the least. Aurora’s mom Susan was the most accepting. She made the transition from knowing me as the landscaper’s son to me being Aurora’s boyfriend pretty easily. Aurora’s dad was less thrilled. He made it pretty clear to her that he felt she could do better, but seemed to take the attitude that he’d just wait for the relationship to fizzle out on its own.
My dad, though, went through the roof. I knew he didn’t trust women, but I wasn’t expecting the white-hot anger. Thankfully, she wasn’t there the day I told him about Aurora and me. He called her every name in the book, told me she’d destroy my life if I let her. I told him he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, and left the house. I crashed at Thorpe Summers’ place that night, and didn’t come back home for three days. When I did come back, Dad met me with a set jaw and the silent treatment. We barely talked about her after that. I made sure to keep her away from our house and him whenever possible.
When Aurora and I broke up, two years later, the first words out of Dad’s mouth were, “Now you know you can’t trust a woman. That bitch coulda ruined your life. You’ll thank your lucky stars for this, boy. Mark my words.” I remember it like it was yesterday. He was so fucking happy to be right — so happy, he didn’t even give a shit that I was hurting.
Some dad.
Turns out, mentioning to him that Rory is back in town was a mistake. In his drunken state, hearing her name sends him on a tangent back into the past. “You remember how I tol’ you she was bad fuckin’ news, son,” he grunts. “You shoulda listened to me from the beginnin’.” Dad goes to the fridge for a can of beer. Cracking it open, he takes it with his sandwich to the living room. Seated on the ratty old couch, he puts the sandwich on the end table and promptly forgets about it in favor of the beer.
He takes a long swig, Adam’s apple bobbing greedily up and down. When he’s drained about half of it, he exhales in satisfaction and leans back, closing his eyes.
“You were always so whipped about that bitch. She had you wrapped around her finger, with that nice ass and those tits.” He chuckles meanly. “You were so blind. All she needed was a little push to show her true colors. ’S what I told Thorpe.”
“Thorpe?” I say, puzzled. “You talked to Thorpe about it?”
Eyes still closed, Dad doesn’t reply. A few seconds later, his breathing slows to a light snore.
Does he mean he talked to Thorpe about Rory back then, or more recently? Well, I’m not going to get any more out of him now, that’s for sure. Shaking my head, I take the can out of his hand and set it on the table next to the sandwich. Back in the kitchen, I spend a little time cleaning up, and haul the garbage bag out to the trash.
That night, I’m at home with Dogzilla, still puzzling about my convo with Dad. I find myself wanting to call Rory, but spending three nights in a row with her is probably dangerous for my sanity. She’s wormed her way back under my skin, for sure. And if I’m honest, she’s made a few inroads into my heart, as well.
I can’t forgive her for what she did to me back then. But hell, we were young and stupid. People change. Don’t they?
Or am I fooling myself because I want to believe she’s a different person now?
Seeing her wedding rings on that chain around her neck, resting against her soft, golden skin… hell, for a second that almost broke me. I remember, I was so damn proud to buy those rings for her. I still remember the tears in her eyes the day I slipped that engagement ring on her finger.
Ten minutes later I find myself digging through some old boxes at the back of a closet.
When I find it— lying at the bottom of a manila envelope stuffed with ancient photos and other memorabilia — my chest tightens. I shake the contents out on the floor. The silver band spins on its edge for a few moments, before falling over and settling.
I stare at it, wondering,what the fuck am I doing?I haven’t worn this thing since I took it off thirteen years ago. Why the hell I kept it, I have no idea.
I pick it up. For a second, I think about putting it on, to see if it still fits.
