Page 78 of Lovetown, USA
“Ain’t you tired?” he says. “I’m telling you, you look tired.”
I shrug. “Have you ever known me to give up without a fight?”
“Fighting is what got you into this damn mess.”
Mama chuckles at that.
I drain my iced tea, then devour my sandwich while Pop puffs away. Sweet smoke curls in the air around us, another smell that comforts me.
“You fought your own damn body when you blew your knee out,” Pop continues. “Fought that man in front of your son instead of keeping your composure. Losing time and energy fighting accountability, and for what? I didn’t raise you to run from responsibility.”
Mama stops crocheting.
“I see it differently,” I say. “I fought through the pain to bring my body back to health. Fought my way through medical school to start a whole new career. Fought for my wife. Whether she deserved it or not.”
“Not,” Mama says, making us laugh.
“I ain’t comin’ home every few months tiring myself out because I’m fighting accountability,” I say. “I’m fighting to save what I built. I told you, I could lose my license. I ain’t letting that happen. You didn’t raise no quitter, old man.”
Pop fights a smile. I know that man is proud of me. He likes to bust my balls, that’s all. It used to bother me. Lowkey hurt my feelings. But I get it, now. When you’re raising a hardheaded son, you gotta be hard sometimes.
“Cam got a girlfriend now,” I say, because that’s kinda on the subject.
Pop raises an eyebrow, and Mama looks appalled, which makes me chuckle. “Sounds like she’s keeping him on his toes, too.”
“Good,” Pop huffs. “And you? You got somethin’ goin’?”
I smile. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” He rears back. “Either you do or you don’t.”
“It’s early days, Pop. I like her.”
His eyes narrow into slits. “You moved to a fluffy, lovey-dovey town just to say youlikesomebody? That’s weak.”
I laugh. “We’re taking it slow.”
If sex, a threesome, and feeling empty when I’m away from her can be considered slow.
But I don’t wanna talk about that, so I bring up something else instead, something I know will make him happy.
“I’m moving forward on the clinic,” I say. “Got zoning approval last week.”
His eyebrows lift.
“If all goes according to plan, the Joe Montgomery Memorial Clinic will open next year.”
Pop sets the pipe down neatly on the side table, his hand shaky. His eyes moisten, his lips press into a line. To the unschooled, he would look angry, but I know better. That’s a stoic man’s fight against his emotions.
My mother has no such hangups. She wipes at her eyes, beaming at me like I hung the moon. But it’s Pop whose tears I want, not hers. I already know how she feels.
“I told you about the clinic a while back, but I just recently decided on the name,” I explain. “I feel like…he’s the main reason I have this goal in the first place. Medicine was enough to satisfy me, y’all know that. But this is something else. This is that thing that put the fire in my belly.”
Pop nods slowly. I think it’s still sinking in. Finally, he looks up at me, a small smile on his lips.
“My daddy would be proud of you,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I certainly am.”
I blow out a breath. That’s what I was waiting for. That’s what I washopingfor. I got it, and now I can rest in the knowledge that I’m doing the right thing. It’s only right for me to do whatever I have to do to make this happen.
