He holds up his bottle. “Cheers, and congrats on an awesome game.”
I lift my beer up in acknowledgment. “Thanks. I’m really glad you were able to come.”
Dad’s expression turns thoughtful, his mouth turning slightly downward. “I missed way too many games while you were growing up.”
I don’t know how to respond because there’s no mistaking the apologetic tone in his words. Does he want some type of absolution?
“Nah,” I drawl with a wave of my hand.
“Missed so many,” he replies sadly, his eyes locking with mine. “You see, son, when you’re faced with death, you reflect on your life, and all of the regrets start pushing their way to the surface. I just need you to know...it’s a big regret of mine. One of my biggest, I guess you’d say. That I didn’t spend enough time with you as a dad should with his son. I always put work first, and well...if I could change that, I would. But I can’t, so the next best thing is to tell you I’m sorry for it.”
“Dad,” I say, but my voice cracks. I don’t want to have this conversation, not because it’s difficult for me to handle, but because I don’t want his last days—precious hours and minutes—to be made up of him feeling bad about his choices.
He holds up a hand, indicating that he wants me to listen. “The hospice nurse spent a lot of time with us, kind of educating us on how it’s going to happen. There’s no telling how fast it’s going to come...the end. I don’t want to leave anything unsaid. So, over the next few days...weeks...whatever I have left, I might want to talk about some of these things. It’s important to me.”
I swallow hard past the lump of emotion clogging my throat and manage to croak, “Yeah...of course, Dad.”
And thus, I learn a lesson. You hear it all the time. Many people say it, but really...it’s never impacted me much.
Don’t take a single moment for granted.
The regret my dad is wallowing in, and without any time to rectify it, is heartbreaking to watch. The least I can do for him is listen when he wants to unburden himself.Chapter 6CalliopeI’m exhausted, having pulled a double shift to cover a co-worker struck with the stomach bug. I’m a big believer in stepping up to help out with things like that because well...karma is out there floating around, and I don’t want to offend her.
The hot shower I just took didn’t refresh me but instead made me feel drowsy. My bed is calling, and I should listen.
Instead, I pull on a pair of worn jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of sandals. I give my hair a quick, rough dry and, because there’s a chance that Rafe will be there, I put on some mascara and lip gloss.
Yes, I’m going over to his parents’ house because I want to check in on Brenda and Jim. I want to see how hospice got everything set up and make sure they’re adjusting. The fact that I’m putting on lip gloss and mascara because Rafe will probably be there is like a pebble stuck in my shoe. It’s annoying as hell that I even care what he thinks about my looks because I’m absolutely not interested in him in that way.
Not really.
I mean...I appreciated his intervention with Grant the other day, even though I was equally annoyed that he thought it was his place to step in. And I have to admit to being swayed by sympathy a tremendous amount. Knowing what he’s getting ready to go through with his dad makes my anger toward him seem silly. We broke up a long time ago, and while I hated everything about that experience, it did help me become the woman I am today.
I’m independent, strong, and when a man doesn’t treat me right—hello, Grant—I cut that shit out of my life because I know I’m better than that. I deserve more than the way Rafe dumped me or the way Grant treated me—as if I was a lesser, second-rate person merely because of my gender.
Mostly, though, I’m softening to Rafe—potentially being a friend to me again—because we are getting ready to share a loss together. I love his dad, not as much as he does and in a different way, but the Simmonses are part of my family unit. I’ve been involved heavily in Jim’s most recent medical issues, they’ve turned to me for explanation and comfort, and I intend to be there for them going forward. In my heart, I want to offer the same to Rafe because I can’t bear to think of the pain he’ll be facing and thus...I have to put aside the bitter feelings I’ve clearly been harboring all these years.
So I leave my apartment and make the short drive to the Simmonses’ house. Because I want to be there for all of them through this, and it has nothing to do with karma. It has to do with love.