Page 77 of Love Me, I Dare You

“Not that I believe you, but I can’t. I have some things I need to do.” He tenses. “Don’t worry, it isn't what you’re thinking. I’m going to see Franklin.”

That catches his attention. “Want some company?”

I must have heard him wrong because there’s no way Jameson King just offered to come with me to visit my dying father. The same father his family has hated since I’ve known them. “You want to come with me to see my father?”

“I want to stand beside my friend, as he does something I know can’t be easy.” He turns on his heels and steps back over to the driver’s side of his truck. “Then you’ll take me out for burgers and beers.”

Pulling into the parking lot of West Rivers Bend Hospice Center, I can sense Jase tense beside me as his fingers tighten around the steering wheel. I’d only briefly mentioned how badly Franklin’s health was deteriorating, but until now, I don’t think he truly realized what I’d meant. Last week, Monty received a call from the hospital letting him know they were officially transferring our father into their hospice clinic downtown, since it looked like the inevitable was quickly approaching.

It wasn’t unexpected, yet something about the call didn’t sit right with me. I’ve spent the entire week contemplating if I’d be coming out here to see him or not. There’s some unfinished business I have with my father, something I don’t think I’d be able to move on from without answers.

Jase walks by my side as we cross the parking lot and head through the front doors of the clinic. “How may I help you?” The sweet front desk receptionist says as she watches us approach her desk.

“Franklin Bishop,” is all I say, and the woman immediately knows where to lead us.

“Right this way son,” another woman, this one a nurse, says, leading us down the right hallway toward a wing of rooms. It’s lunchtime, obvious by the carts of food being delivered into every room.

“Mr. Bishop won’t be eating any of this,” she says with a pitiful shrug of her shoulders. “He’s on a strict diet that will be brought up with his medication in about an hour.”

I nod, though I couldn’t honestly care less. I’m not planning to stay here that long. In and out is what I told myself when I contemplated coming here.

As the doors open, we’re met with the sound of hospital machines beeping in the distance.

“Frank sweetie,” she calls, “It’s Jackie. You have visitors,” she adds, announcing we’re here.

I’m not ready for what I see when I step into the room. Not sure what I was expecting to see other than a man clearly an inch from death, but Franklin Bishop is unrecognizable.

His head of brown hair is now completely bald. His tan skin, covered in a slight yellow tinge and covered in dark spots. But it’s his frail body and near clear eyes that stand out the most. He’s losing his vision if it isn’t already gone.

Frank doesn’t look surprised to see me. He isn’t happy about it either. “I’ll leave you to your visit. I’ll be back in an hour with your lunch and meds, Frank. Be nice to your visitors.”

My father lets out an aggravated huff, barely audible behind the sound of the oxygen machine connected through tubes in his nostrils. “Coming to gloat on my deathbed wasn’t enough. You had to bring him?” he asks, as he turns away from Jase, who enters behind me.

This won’t go the way I planned if Jase is around. My dad will suspect the Kings are involved, and won’t be as cooperative. “Jase, mind giving us a minute.”

I knew coming here with Jase was a bad idea, yet I hadn’t fought him on it. I think deep down I needed my best friend, a guy who, even though we’ve spent years without talking and hating one another, knew the ins and outs of my relationship and feelings toward my father. Jase knows despite the shit Franklin put me through as a kid and adolescent, there were some things I couldn't help but blame myself for.

If I’d been more like my brothers, then maybe my father wouldn’t have hated me as much?

Jase doesn't fight me on it, instead nods and pats me on the shoulder. “I’ll wait by the truck.”

Franklin laughs, his cough sounding far worse than I’ve ever heard it. When I called earlier this morning to let them know I’d be stopping by for a visit, the nurse mentioned things were getting far worse. Staring at my father’s frail and sickened body, it’s hard not to see death is inevitable at this point.

However, all I can think about is how the timeline for the completion of our renovations is closing in on us. In order to ensure we don’t run into trouble with the bank or any other of Franklin’s adversaries, we need to have the deed signed over.

It’s why I’m here and he knows it. “Your ties to that family are closer than you think you know?” he says between coughs. “I should have known you’d be back with them.”

I take a few steps into the room, though don’t get too close. “Trust me, old man. I haven’t forgotten what you said to me. You may have because you were piss drunk, but I don’t.” His mouth tightens in a firm line. “Jase and I share a brother.”

There’s not a shred of emotion that appears over his face as I remind him of the secret he confessed to me the night I left Crossroads. Franklin had overheard my conversation with Bismarck King and was well aware of his threats and the ultimatum he gave me that drove me out of town and kept meaway. I think it was my dad’s own way of ensuring I keep good on my promise to never return to Crossroads.

How could I return and see my siblings every day, look them in the face and pretend like I didn't know a truth that would ruin everything they thought they knew? More than that, it would affect our relationship amongst siblings, ruin one of my brothers’ lives, my friendship with Jase, and worst of all, any chance at a relationship with Bailey. Again, I couldn’t live with being the reason for their misfortunes.

Though, that night, Franklin confessed the reason he hated Bismarck King and his entire family. The reason the King himself hated us and made sure everyone in town knew the kind of people we were and despised us for it. It was Franklin’s way of saying “I told you so” or “That’s what you get” for getting involved with that family.

“I loved her until that point, you know,” he says, his voice no more than a croak. “If I’m being honest, I may have loved her after as well. But I couldn’t forget her betrayal despite how much I wanted to. The bottom of a bottle of liquor can only make you forget so much.”

It’s at this moment, as my father stares at me with the same hatred filled eyes that look back at him, I realize the reason he’s always hated me so much is because I’m just like him. At least a reminder of the man he could have been if he hadn’t allowed his past to completely erase the man he once was.

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