Page 17 of Going Down

While Dad is engrossed in the boisterous announcer, I leave the living room and wander upstairs to my old room. It’s full of boxes that I never unpacked after leaving my college dorm and moving near the resort. I sift through a few things, throwing trash away, making piles of stuff to donate, and finding a few items that have better memories attached; the cloth napkins pilfered from an upscale restaurant and a shot glass with the university crest. I hold up a ratty sweatshirt that I may have worn twenty-four-seven my freshman year.

“Thinking of going back?” Dad asks from the doorway. I didn’t hear him walk up the stairs and I hear every echo in the empty, over-sized house. I shake my head. “She wishes you hadn’t left your senior year. It’s wasted effort.”

My mother’s opinion means little to me. It grates on my nerves that my dad bothers to listen to her.

“So is leaving after twenty-five-years.” I mutter, then cast my eyes to the carpet, ashamed. “I didn’t mean it.” But that’s a lie. I just didn’t mean to hurt my dad’s feelings.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think it was wasted time. I got you out of it, Kat. And you take good care of me. Trying to whip me into shape.” Dad smiles and sits down next to me on the twin bed. He pats my leg and then folds his hands in his lap.

Other than his job at the hospital, which I know he finds fulfilling, my dad doesn’t have much. Sure he may golf on Friday, or mentions the occasional drink after work with an associate. But it’s not as if he’s jet setting off to a tropical island with a young nurse. That’s not his style. Thank God.

My phone rings for a video chat. Dash’s face is on the screen.

“A friend of yours?” Dad inquires.

“Someone I work with at the resort.”

I really like Dash and how free I feel when we’re together. My dad is my tether to the real world. I’m glad for the way it anchors me. However, the weird pang in my chest has me questioning how these two men are meant to fit together, or even if they are. I turn the screen away not wanting to give my dad any reason to believe I’d ever leave him. My relationship with Dash includes the safety of knowing I won’t have to choose between them.

I give him a faint smile.

“You should answer, Katahdin. Your work is important. They may need you.” I love that my dad doesn’t make me feel that my job as a medic is any less than his as a doctor. He sees an equal value in first responders.

I doubt this will have anything to do with the resort, but my dad gives a modicum of privacy as I say hello.

“Hey! My shift ended and I wasn’t sure what you were up to.” Dash gets right to the point.

“I’m home. At my dad’s house. We’re going to watch the game.”

“Oh.” Dash presses his lips shut and pulls out his man-bun, letting his hair fall against his neck. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it then. I didn’t mean to disturb.”

My dad nudges my shoulder and nods. I look at him confused before my eyes widen and I get the point. The tight chest sensation drops into my stomach.

“Wait, Dash. If you’d like to come down. I mean it’s a haul, but I can give you the address. There’s still an hour till kickoff. You may make it here right after that.” I’m rambling. My cheeks pink when his big blue eyes twinkle and I try to avert my gaze from the screen. I already know he’ll say yes. Dash will do anything at the drop of a hat. He’s the type who can change his plans midstream and make friends with the other fish.

“I could,” he says with a wink. “First I need to check on Capote. Make sure she’s still there.”

I cover my face, flinching and break out in a cold sweat.

“I’m picking on you.” Dash laughs.

I came clean with him about almost losing the kitten as soon as it happened.

“I deserved that.” I make a smarmy face, but haven’t quite figured out how to—

“This will make up for it.” he proclaims, reading my mind. Funny enough, I trust his word and that Dash means exactly that.

I want to offer for Dash to bring Capote, but this house isn’t exactly set up to host four-legged friends. We end the call and I text Dash the address.

The next hour-plus moves at a snail’s pace. I’m anxious to see Dash and scared out of my wits about what my dad may think of him. I’m not sure if Dash is going to be the clingy type, making it apparent right off the bat that we’re more than friends, or if he’ll play it cool. In the interim, other than asking about the Capote incident—which I fess up to as being all my fault—Dad says little and I offer less.

In the cold, I hear Dash’s truck pull into the driveway and go to greet him at the door with an eager father not far behind.

“It’s nice to meet you, Dash. I’m Jai Nethi. Welcome to my home.” My dad introduces himself as I take Dash’s coat to the closet.

“Dr. Nethi.” Dash shakes his hand, addressing my dad formally. He’s pulling out all the stops to impress him.

I watch as my dad gives Dash the once over, assessing his long hair and the shirt that says, “ski lifts get me high”. I’ll probably have to explain it later on. I’m learning Dash is more of an adrenaline junkie.

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