Page 22 of Cruel Existence

“We were worried. I haven’t seen you. You aren’t taking calls or meetings.” The fact that it was the weekend didn’t have any bearing on whether my father continued business as usual.

I glanced at the rows of pill bottles lined up on his nightstand. “What’s all this?” I asked.

He shook his head. “It’s for the cough. So, I sleep at night.”

It was the first time I felt a buzz in the back of my head. An alarm bell. Something was wrong. It wasn’t just bronchitis. Maybe this was the other coded message Ciro had been trying to give me. I nodded at Ciro to step out of the room.

“Papa, I think I need to get you in to see your doctor,” I urged.

“No,” he snapped. “Amara, I’m fine.” He wobbled to his feet, and I moved out of his way. I didn’t say a word when he grabbed the doorframe to the bathroom to steady himself.

“What are you doing? Where are you going?” I screeched, worried he would fall at any moment.

“I have a meeting. I’m going to get ready,” he barked.

His silk-striped pajamas looked like they had been worn for days. His cheeks were sallow. His voice was scratchy and soft.

“I think you need to rest some more. Can’t you reschedule the meeting?” I pleaded, surprised at the rising panic in my chest.

His knuckles turned white as he pivoted toward me without letting go of the arch. “Business continues whether I have a cold or not.”

“It’s not a cold,” I argued. “You can barely stand.”

He closed his eyes. But before he could fire back at me, I saw his knees buckle. I rushed toward him. “Papa!” I caught him before he slumped to the floor.

He groaned. It took all my strength to maneuver him back to the bed.

“Just leave me alone, Amara.” He swatted at me when I pulled the comforter to his chest.

I placed my hands on my hips. “You need to cancel the meeting. I need to call a doctor for you. You can’t go on like this. You’ve been in here for days.”

His tired eyes lifted. “I can’t cancel the meeting. Not this one.”

I bit my lip. Was the meeting about me? Was it a marriage meeting? My stomach turned sour.

“You can’t see anyone like this. They’ll take one look at you and think you’re on your deathbed.” I had to stall him.

Something in his eyes shifted, and I felt the zing again. What the hell was going on? When had he become so weak?

“I’ve run this family for a generation. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re still a child.” Insulting me wasn’t going to work.

“Far from it. What can I do to convince you to stay in bed, or at least call a doctor?” He didn’t have the strength to make it to the shower. He would collapse before taking the first step on the staircase. He would fail at the meeting, no matter what it was and who was there.

He grumbled and coughed again. I waited.

“You say you’re not a child. Prove it.” His voice was strained, but it was still sharp.

I folded my arms. “What does that mean? Anyone would take one look at you and tell you the same thing I’m telling you. You should not work today. Probably not for a while. You can call me names. Tell me I’m a baby or a little wrong, none of it changes that you’re sick. I’m not wrong. You have to cancel the meeting. Reschedule it.”

“This is why you’re a child,” he seethed. “You don’t understand what’s behind everything I do.”

“Enlighten me.” For the first time in my life, I felt I had the slightest bit of a power shift away from my father. It made me edgier than I anticipated. Nearly giddy.

“Our name is our legacy. I’ve tried to teach you that since you were born. We have ourname. Sometimes that’s all we have.” He reached for a glass of water. “You take the meeting.”

I blinked. “What?”

He nodded. “It’s time you start training. I let you go to college. I’ve let you have a regular life. But our expansion inNew Orleans needs complete focus. We could do this together, Amara.”

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