Page 34 of Sexy Bad Escort

Funny,it never occurred to me that somethingwould eventually happen to one of them, and thatI’d immediately begin to feel all this guilt for basically cuttingthem out of my life. It doesn’t matter that I needed to find my ownway in the world in order to be happy. Even if all I did wascontinue to be the person I wanted my dad to believe Iwas.

Mom isin ICU, still being worked on, I guess, and the womanwearing scrubs at the nextreception desk sends us to a waiting room down the hall. When Istep through the doorway, even though there are a handful of otherpeople here, all I see is my dad.

He’ssitting by himself, staring atthe floor, his leg shaking like it always has during therare occasions he isn’t moving around. He glances up, spots Ronnieand I, and stands. He’s as huge as I remember, his shoulders sowide I think he has to turn slightly sideways to get throughdoorways. His hair is grayer than the last time I saw him, andthere’s the tiniest outline of a paunch under his shirt, but thestarkest difference is in his eyes. His pupils are huge, dilated,and there’s this haunted look in them. The man will be lost if mymother doesn’t pull through this.

It’s thefirst time since I was little, like probably toddlerage, that I want to hug him,offer him comfort.

“I cantell that’s your dad,”Ronnie whispers, pulling me into the room by our clasped hands.“You look just like him.”

I almostlaugh. Me? Look like him? The man’s a tank. He broke all sorts ofrecords in high school and college, played offensive line for theBears for a seasonbefore he fucked up his back and was forced to give up the career Ithink he loved more than anything else in life except my mom. Andyeah, I’m deliberately not including myself and my brother in thatcategory above football. Although my brother’s likely right belowfootball. Me? No idea where I stand in his life, but I can promiseit isn’t high on his list.

“Daniel,” hesays when we reach him. He hesitates for a fraction of a second andthen offers his hand to shake, his gaze flicking to Ronnie.

WhileIslide my hand intohis, I say, “This is Ronnie.” No other explanation. I don’t haveone, anyway, not beyond, “We’re sleeping together and my bestfriend is married to her brother and we’re also business partnersand each day we spend together I start thinking maybe I want more.”And that’s all way too complicated for this situation. Not tomention, I should probably have that conversation with Ronniefirst.

I clearmy throat and say, “Ronnie, this is my dad. Hank. Or Mr.Harrison.”

“Hank isfine,” he says, extracting his hand from mine so he can shakehers. “Nice to meetyou.”

“I’m sorryit’s under such terrible circumstances. Have you heardanything?”

Hestares at some pointover her shoulder while he talks. “She’s stabilized. They ran abunch of tests, trying to determine the extent of the damage, butthey said we caught it fast enough that they think she’ll have afull recovery. They’re moving her to a room now. We should be ableto see her shortly.”

Ronniegives my arm a squeeze while I visibly deflate, relief flooding meas the air whooshes from mylungs.Thank God.

“Yourbrother’s on his way. Went straight to the airport when I called,and he texted just a few minutes ago to say he’s getting on a planenow. It’s a four-hour flight, but, you know, with the timedifference…”

I forgotabout my brother. Well,not really, but it hadn’t occurred to me to call him. But we’vebeen as estranged as I’ve been with my parents, so this wholetalking again thing is throwing me off.

“Isthere anyone else?” Ronnie asks. “Do you need me to make calls? I’mhappy to, if it wouldmake things easier.”

Dadshakes his head. “Already talked to her sister and brother.Agnes wanted to come up, but Itold her to wait until morning, since it’s so late already. Tom’sin Arizona. I told him to stay put until we know more information.Her dad’s gone. Her mom—your grandma…” he says, glancing at me fora split second before shifting his gaze back to staring at nothing.“I called the group home she lives in and let them know, butobviously, she isn’t going to come up here. The dementia’s prettybad,” he says for my benefit. Which only adds another pinprick ofguilt to my swamped conscience.

Ishould’ve stayed in touch.

“Iletyour uncle Gus know.He said he’d come by tomorrow.”

I nod.My dad’s brother. Another giant of a man who excelled at every sport he ever played. Whata disappointment I am to my athletic family.

“Howaboutcoffee?” Ronniesays. “Or water? A sandwich? Can I get you anything?”

“I could usesome water,” Dad admits.

“We’ll go getit,” I say before Ronnie can offer.

“I wastrying to give you guys a minute alone,” Ronnie says when we’reheading down the hall toward the cafeteria.

“I know youwere, and I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but trust me, it’sbetter if we aren’t alone together.”

“Why?”

As wepass another, smallerwaiting room, I glance inside. It’s empty, so I shift gears andguide her through the open door. “Look, there’s a lot of bad bloodin my family. We’re nothing like yours.”

“What makesyou say that?”

“Forstarters, they all hate me. Well, except my mom, but she’s not very assertive, so she’snever spoken up on my behalf.”

“Hedidn’t look like hehates you. He looked like he wanted to give you a hug.”

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