She swallowed hard. “I tried convincing your father to stay. I really did.”
I paused. “He’s not even at the hospital right now, is he?”
“I mean, I don’t know for sure. But I do know your father. And it’s been well over an hour since he’s come back to the room.”
“Yep. He’s left for his office or something.”
“I’m so sorry, Clint. I told him to put that damn phone away and pay attention to what wa
s happening. Be present. But he just gets worse and worse with that work stuff of his.”
“Cecilia, I hate to break it to you, but he’s always been that way. There’s no ‘it’ getting worse. It’s just you figuring out that this isn’t behavior that’ll change.”
She sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”
I paused. “Are you okay?”
She snickered. “I believe that’s the question I should be asking you.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t ask you.”
“You know, I don’t know how to answer that question. I mean, your father and I have been together since you were fourteen years old. And now you’re lying in this hospital and I’m sitting here holding your hand and I realize I don’t know a thing about you.”
The silence that followed that admission was deafening. Because she was right. She didn’t know anything about me, and I sure as hell didn’t know anything about her. I tugged her hand, pulling her up from her seat as she sat down on the edge of the bed. She leaned over me, placing one hand on one side of my body as I continued holding the one in my hand I already had.
“All right. Good to know,” I said.
She furrowed her brow. “What?”
I snickered. “Your eyes. I didn’t even know they were hazel.”
“We’re a sad bunch, aren’t we?”
I shrugged. “We do the best we can.”
Tears rushed her eyes. “I really did beg for him to stay.”
“It’s fine. I know the kind of man my father is. There’s no use in begging with him, either. At least do yourself a favor and keep your dignity.”
“There are so many times where I should have—”
“It’s okay. There’s no use dwelling on the past, either.”
She wiped her tears away. “Again, isn’t this the kind of thing I should be telling you?”
“Eh, I’m sure we’ll get there.”
That made her smile. Which made me smile. And slowly, the burden of the hospital room lifted from my shoulders. The two of us talked for a little bit. I found out more about her home life as a child. How drastically different it had been from mine. And yet, how similar our own fathers were. I told her about my mother. Every question she asked, I answered. Including why my leather jacket was so important to me. For the first time in years, we opened up to one another. Learned more about one another. And the more I learned, the more I wondered how the hell my pathetic excuse for a father had snagged such a bright, beautiful, candid woman for a second wife.
“You’re way too good for my dad.”
She giggled. “Maybe so. But he does have a softer side.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure he does.”
“I know that sounds cliché and trite, but he does. At least, he did. I see it sometimes when we’re on vacation.”
“Well, tell him to send some of that softness my way. I could use some of it.”