"Fish?' I quizzed. "When have you ever wanted to fish?"
"I've recently discovered deep-sea fishing is quite the pastime."
"When have you ever gone deep-sea fishing?" I asked, skeptically.
"I've gone out a couple times with a buddy of mine."
"I didn't know you even liked to fish," I said.
"That's because I really never gave it a chance. I've discovered it can be very relaxing, almost like meditation without all the mumbo jumbo."
"Retirement though? Won't you get bored? You've always been such a computer nerd."
"I'm ready for a change, and the upside is I'll be there for you," he said.
"Dad, I don't want you to shackle yourself to me," I mumbled.
"Honey, when you were sick before, it somehow became all about me. I allowed my grief and fear of losing your mom to cloud my senses. I burdened you by wearing my grief on my sleeve. Even though you were sick as a dog, you continued to console me. This time it's my turn. I'm going to be the strong one," he said, unfolding my favorite blanket from home and spreading it out over me.
I was touched at his thoughtfulness. He'd always been a good father, making sure all my basic needs were taken care of, but after my mom died, he'd closed himself off emotionally, always keeping me at arm's length. It was a nice feeling for him to be so attentive.
"Thanks, Dad," I said as he tucked the blanket around me. My limited energy melted away and I fell asleep to him smoothing a hand across my hairless head.
Chapter 26: Waiting
Nathan
I impatiently tapped my fingers against the tabletop waiting for my lunch date to show up. Waiting had made me short-tempered and I had already alienated the waitress who was probably spitting in my drink. She should have been used to my mood swings since the restaurant had practically become my home away from home over the last few days. It was far enough away that I wasn't technically breaking the rules, but close enough that I could act at a moment's notice. The harried waitress started to approach my table again, but I waved her off like she was an annoying gnat. I could hear her openly bitching to her fellow waitresses who all clucked their tongues sympathetically. They'd been on the receiving end of my temper at one time or another during my stakeout. I would have apologized, but at the moment, I only cared about one thing, and if my lunch appointment didn't show up in the next few minutes, I would be taking matters in my own hands.
Two minutes later, I was rising from the table with the intention of leaving when the person I had been waiting for hurried through the restaurant's door.
"You're late," I snapped, sinking back into my seat.
"Sorry, I wanted to wait until she fell asleep," Charles, Ashton's father, apologized, sliding into the seat across from me.
My expression immediately softened. "How is she?" I asked earnestly, waving the waitress away as she approached our table. I took no notice of her glares and grumbling as I focused on the man in front of me.
"She's better," he said in a voice thick with relief.
"Really?" I asked, releasing a pent-up breath I wasn't even aware I was holding.
"Yes. Her doctor said she's on the road to recovery. She has one more round of chemo and then we will see."
"She's really okay?" I asked again, swallowing the sudden lump in my throat. The last few days had been absolute hell. Unbeknownst to Ashton, I had been at the hospital waiting for updates from her father. At one point, when they thought she might not make it, I had stood over her bed, clutching her unconscious hand in my own. I had silently willed her not to give up.
"She really is. Some of her spunk is already returning," he said, chuckling softly.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"I stuck that shirt of yours in the middle of a stack of clothes I brought to her room. She couldn't take her eyes from it."
"You're a meddling old fool, but I love you for it," I said, grinning at him. I was grateful to Charles for trusting me, for believing that my feelings and intentions for Ashton were real. I had suggested fishing together as a way for us to get to know each other, and maybe relieve some of the stress. On one of our fishing trips, he had mentioned the shirt of mine that Ashton had kept. At the time, I'd been struggling with doubts that Ashton still had feelings for me and was beginning to feel like a fool for selling my condo and moving across the state so I could be closer to her. As October melted into November, her silence had begun to wear on me.
"So she stared at the shirt. That may not mean anything," I said.
"You telling me I don't know my own daughter? Don't be an idiot, boy. She's head over heels in love with you."
"Did you bring her the flowers I bought?" I asked, sitting back in my seat.