Page 57 of Reckless Curves
“Okay. I have to get to that meeting,” Sam said.
Tom’s head whipped around. “What? You’re leaving?”
Sam explained, “Yeah. I can’t be late. Besides, you need some time with him, just in case.”
Tom glowered at Sam and walked out of the room. Sam followed, grabbed his shoulder and turned Tom around.
“I’m not doing this,” Tom said. “I’m not forgiving him for making my life hell so he can die with a clear conscience. That’s what you want me to do, isn’t it?”
Compassion filled Sam’s eyes. “Maybe a little for him, but mostly for you.”
“What do you mean?” Tom snorted.
Sam hesitated, “I know that Dad isn’t perfect. A couple of months ago, he told me about everything he put you through. I feel so bad that you were dealing with it all while I was away at school. You should’ve told me.”
Tom jammed his hands in his jeans pockets and looked at the floor. “I didn’t want to ruin college for you.” He shrugged. “Besides, there wasn’t anything you could do about it.”
“Yes, there was. I could’ve talked to Dad, but I also could’ve been there for you. I’m your big brother and it’s my job to look out for you.”
“Anyway, hanging onto all this bitterness isn’t doing you any good. You need to find common ground with him before it’s too late or you’ll regret it, Tom. Now, I have to go. I’ll call you later.”
Tom waved him off, “Fine.”
Sam pursed his lips and walked away.
Leaning against the corridor wall, Tom calmly considered Sam’s advice and thought perhaps he might be right. Squaring his shoulders, Tom stepped back into his father’s room and sat on the chair close to the bed.
It wasn’t long until Vincent stirred and opened his eyes. They widened when he spotted Tom. “Tommy? Are you really here or did I die?”
He might be sick, but his dad hadn’t lost his dry wit. “You didn’t die. I’m really here.”
Vincent pressed the button on the bed that raised the head. “You look good. Still got all those tattoos?”
Tom laughed. “Yeah, I still have them. I keep telling you I’m not getting rid of them.”
Vincent grinned, his brown eyes shining despite being sick. “I think I’ll get one.”
Tom snorted. “A little late in the game, isn’t it?”
“Exactly. At this point, it’s like, what the hell? Why not? I’m already dying. What’s a little ink poisoning?” Vincent responded with a tiny shrug.
“Knock it off, Dad. That’s not funny.”
“Tom, I’ve made my peace with it and the truth is, it’ll be a relief to be out of pain,” Vincent said.
Tom’s jaw worked as he fought to retain his composure. “If you’re going to talk like that, I’m leaving.”
Vincent closed his eyes and sighed. “Okay, okay.” Opening them, he looked at Tom again. “So, did you come here to yell at me and tell me what a horrible father I was? How much I hurt you? Or maybe that you hate me?”
Damn it.How was he supposed to look a dying man in the face and stay angry at him? “I’ve tried to hate you, Dad, but I couldn’t quite do it,” Tom admitted.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Vincent whispered. “No matter what you think, you’re my boy and I’ve always loved you.”
Tom crossed his arms. “You have a rotten way of showing it.”
“I know. I screwed up big time with you, but I’ve been trying to make up for it. Even before I got sick, but you wouldn’t listen to me,” Vincent trailed off.
“You would’ve just told me the same bullshit that you always did.”
