Page 3 of Ebbing Tides
He took the money with disbelief in his eyes, like he couldn’t believe his luck. He looked the two twenties over in his hands. “Wow, thanks, Mr. Tailor!”
“No problem,” I said, tucking my wallet back into my pocket. “But don’t forget; the next time it snows—”
“Yep! I’ll come right over,” he said, nodding eagerly, still clutching the money in his gloved hands.
“Awesome. Thanks for the car.” I held up the truck before tucking it into my jacket pocket. “Now get inside and warm up. It’s freezing out here.”
“You’re still gonna take Lido for a walk though?” he asked as I gave the dog’s leash a gentle tug.
“Yeah,” I said with a smile. “But it’s okay. I don’t mind the cold.”
God knew I’d been freezing for long enough.
***
I parked outside the house I had grown up in and looked out the window with the same dread I’d felt every single day for the past nine months. Lido whined from the passenger seat, and I wrapped my arm around his neck to ruffle the fur at his chest.
“I know, buddy,” I grumbled. “But we gotta do what we gotta do, right?”
Without another moment of hesitation, I opened the door to the truck and climbed out. Lido followed, and with his head down, he came with me up the walkway to the porch steps. I took out the key Dad had given me, opened the door, and stepped into a space that hadn’t changed at all in over a decade.
I walked past the stairs, not bothering to look at them, not wanting to linger on the memories of the life lived and the death witnessed, and walked in a direction I’d never been permitted until I received that fateful call nine months ago.
It was a short hallway with only two doors—one leading to a bathroom, the other my father’s office. I pushed open the door to the bathroom, quickly washed my hands, then left to open the office door that had once been elusive and sacred, but now …
I flipped on the light switch to illuminate the dark, dark room. It was aman’soffice. Rich, deep hardwoodfloor, matching paneled walls. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves to complement the surrounding perimeter. A black leather nailhead-trimmed sofa was shoved up against the wall beside the door, along with the matching office chair and huge antique oak desk, to make room for the hospital bed and medical equipment.
A withered frame was curled up in the center of that bed. The moment the light was turned on, he groaned, rolling his head against the pillow and lifting one shaking hand to cover his eyes.
“Hi, Dad,” I said, trying to inject a bit of cheerfulness into my voice.
The doctors and nurses had said it might help with his terrible mood, to which I’d replied, “You obviously don’t know my father.”
But still, I tried.
I always,alwaystried.
“How are you feeling today?” I asked him as I rounded the bed to make sure his pillows were still fluffed the way he liked.
“Will you stop asking me that fucking question?” he answered in a weak tone but just as bitter and angry. “Every fucking day, you ask me that question. How the hell do you think I’m feeling?”
I shrugged, walking around to the table hovering over his bed to collect the used, bloodied tissues discarded over the top. “You don’t want me to care about you?”
“Why the fuck would you care about me?”
Lido hopped onto the couch beside the door and groaned as he slumped down, resting his chin on his paws.
I sighed along with him. “Because you’re my father.”
Dad laughed sardonically, only to cough and cough until he struggled to catch his breath. I grabbed a tissue and held it to his mouth as he hacked and smoothed a hand over his wispy white hair.
“It’s okay, Dad. It’s okay. Try to breathe, all right? Try—”
“Oh, will you shut the hell up?” he choked out between coughs. He snatched the tissue from my hand and wiped the bloody mucus that had dribbled from his mouth. “And what the fuck does it matter what I am to you?”
“Matters to me,” I mumbled, taking the tissue from his hand and throwing it into the garbage can with the rest of them.
But that was my problem, wasn’t it? I had always cared. I had cared too much. When most people would’ve cut the asshole out, I craved his affection. When most people would’ve walked away, I wondered what I could do better to make him love me. He mattered to me for reasons I couldn’t even begin to understand myself, and that was exactly why I’d agreed to take care of him when he was given a terminal cancer diagnosis.
