Page 28 of Before We Say Goodbye
A seething fury transported itself from Addison to Otis through the line. The man knew something bad was coming.
Poke a balloon and it pops. That was what it felt like when Otis finally opened his mouth. “I’ve been lying to you. I don’t know why. Well, I do. I was afraid to fess up, afraid to disappoint you. I dropped out of school in February and moved up to Sonoma.”
A silence born of the Ice Age chilled the air.
“What is this, a joke?” His father’s taut British tone carried a terrifying bite.
Otis could only grin, knowing he was in the doghouse now. “No joke. I met a girl too. We’re going to get married later this year, once I turn eighteen.”
“I’m in no mood for this,” Addison said.
“I can’t imagine you are, but it’s all the truth now. I apologize for not telling you sooner.”
“Where are you exactly?”
“What do you mean?”
“What is your address? I’m coming down.”
Otis stiffened. What had he expected? That Addison would hop up and do the Watusi and say,Oh, you do say, sonny boy. How wonderful. Your mum and I will be delighted to pop down for the wedding.
No, there would be none of that.
His father pulled up to Otis’s cottage in a car he’d rented at the SFO airport. Though it might have been wise to have recruited a witness for this potential murder, Otis was glad Rebecca was dealing with her own family troubles tonight and wouldn’t be stopping by.
As usual, Addison Till was fashionably dressed in slacks and a button-down nearly as stiff as his upper lip. His Rolex peeked out from his cuff enough to offer a sparkle. While he worked at his desk, Addison obsessively raked his dark hair with a nervous hand, and after years of that, his hair seemed frozen in place. His pale skin indicated that he was still working like a dog behind his desk, likely more so now that he was free of raising a child. Rarely did the look of discontent leave his face, but today the cold eyes hiding behind his thick-framed glasses knocked Otis to his knees. What Otis noticed most, even beyond the disappointment, was that for once Addison didn’t look like the hero Otis had always considered him to be.
Addison locked his fists on his waist and shook his head. “The whole time I was driving up here, I kept hoping this was all a dream ... or a nightmare.”
Filling the doorframe, Otis folded his arms. “I guess we’re skipping the hug today.” Coming face-to-face with his father only encouraged the defiance that had taken seed on the purple bus.
“Don’t be cheeky. This is serious business.”
Addison followed Otis into his small place and expressed his disgust with a groan. Otis pointed to a table in the corner, and they both took a seat, the chairs grinding against the old wood.
With one lone green apple, sour as a lemon, resting in the bowl between them and serving as the only mediary, Otis told his father exactly what had happened. To his credit, Addison listened intently without interruption, though his clasped fingers indicated he was working hard to quell his volatile emotions.
As Otis wrapped up, he said, “I’m sure you’re frustrated with me, but I bet there was a day when you realized that you loved writing, that it was your calling. In like manner, I’ve found my purpose, in both Rebecca and in this wine world, and I hope you’ll return with Mum in September for the wedding.”
Addison let out a slow breath so long that Otis wondered if he had a third lung. Clearing his throat, he pushed up from the table, chairlegs again sliding on wood. He approached the window and looked out toward the road. Otis could only imagine the war in the man’s head, and he appreciated that Addison hadn’t flown off the handle. That wasn’t his style anyway. He was a calculated man, equanimous even. It was also clear, though, that this was one of the biggest battles he’d ever fought.
“I’ll reimburse you for school,” Otis said to his father’s back. “Every dime.” Addison’s cropped hair had a clean taper where it met the neck; no man visited the barber more.
Addison finally turned and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m afraid for you, Otis. I know what it’s like to be young, to have dreams. Even more so these days, all the kids thinking they need to rebel, to fight the system. To break away from the routine. It’s a fine thought, but put into practice, I fear you’ll discover reality wins in the end.”
Otis waited for more.
“What am I supposed to say? You’ll turn eighteen soon, so I can’t make you go back to Berkeley, but I think it’s the biggest mistake of your life. Get in the car with me. Let’s drive down and go to the admissions office, tell them you had a change of heart. Fine if you love this girl, but why the rush? Finish school, for God’s sake. You might change your mind about wanting to be a winemaker. No one knows what they want to do when they’re seventeen. It’ll change twenty more times. Why not at least have a degree? Otherwise, you very well might find yourself with no means to ever upgrade from this”—he scoped the innards of Otis’s humble domain—“this cramped and meager existence. Don’t live a life of regret, dear boy.”
“That’s exactly why I’m here,” Otis said with shaky defiance.
They went back and forth for a while, finding no more common ground than Nixon could with the Soviets.
Addison finally sat back down. The apple in the bowl jiggled. “You’re a teenager making adult decisions that will impact the rest of your life. I can’t condone ...” He bit back what he was going to say.
He’s a good father,Otis thought.Trying his best.This was a lot for him. “I know I lied to you,” Otis said, “and that’s really where Imessed up. I’ve been terrified my whole life of disappointing you, of not becoming the man you want me to be. Of not being as great as you. It got the best of me. I need you to know that I’m not some lazy wanker who’s going to sit around all his life and ... I don’t know ... rot away. I’m going to make something of myself, but on my terms.”
Addison didn’t flinch. Otis could have balanced the bloody apple on the top of his father’s head.
