Sometimes you just gotta ask.
Devyn
Seeing Heston’s father was both great and horrible. I loved the man. He was the father I wished I had instead of the piece of shit father I ended up with. Not that I’d want him as my actual dad… it was far better that he was Heston’s, but you know… one with similar qualities would’ve been nice. Spending time with him was wonderful.
But seeing him so sick? That sucked. It more than sucked. I never felt so helpless. Why did we have to live in a place where healthcare was only for the haves and not the have nots? Why did money have to be the thing separating him from the treatment he needed? It was grade A bullshit, if you asked me. But no one did. Instead we collectively, as a society, let this be the status quo, leaving people like his father to basically wither away and die.
Heston had given me the quote from the hospital for his dad’s surgery. It was a lot, I couldn’t lie, but if I could get the minimum dollar amount that he needed, he could have the operation and I’d figure out the rest afterward. It was potentially doable. Andby potentially, I meant if all the stars aligned and some big collectors wanted my work.
Father had promised me money for marrying, but no figure had been agreed on and I was wary that after the wedding, he’d give it to me in dribs and drabs.
I called Roger to see how things were looking at the gallery. I’d sold some pieces not too far back, but that money was gone, having been used to clear some debts I’d been stupid enough to accrue. It had been a hot minute since I’d chatted with him. That was plenty of time to get a sale or five.
I texted him to see if he had time to chat and he called me right back.
“I take it that’s a yes,” I chuckled.
“If it’s you agreeing to the charity event in the fall, then it’s a yes.”
Crap. I’d forgotten he mentioned that. I, of course, was going to donate something to it. The event itself was designed to raise money to pilot an after school art program in one of the lower income neighborhoods. Like I could turn that down.
“What if I’m checking on my pieces and if there have been any sales?” And before he could answer, I tacked on, “And yes on the charity event. I meant to tell you earlier.”
“Thank you.” The echo of tap tap tapping on the computer filled the silence. “It looks like everything that’s sold has been paid out.”
That sucked.
“That’s what I thought.” I’d hoped otherwise, but it wouldn’t be that easy. Nothing in life was.
I asked him to send me the details for the fundraiser and told him I’d speak to him soon. I didn’t have time to talk about future shows. I needed to figure out money stuff. Time was ticking.
My wolf hated that I wasn’t actively doing something to help the man I now affectionately called Dad. He wanted me to fix everything and now. I did too. But wanting it and being able to do it were two very different things.
Even if I liquidated every last thing I owned, there wouldn’t be enough. I even reached out to see if my lifetime membership to the club could somehow garnish me some money. The fine print allowed me to pass it on to my kid, the one I didn’t have, or lose it. That was that. No selling it for profit. Basically, as far as my resources went, I was screwed because I didn’t really have any.
My wolf pounded at me, begging me to fix this.
How about we go for a run? It was all I could think of offering him as a means of distraction.
To my complete shock, he denied the offer. His focus on Dad blew my mind. I wasn’t sure if it was Dad himself that my beast was so protective of or if it was his desire to make our mate happy. But whatever, he was single-minded and when he got like this he was dangerous.
Fine. I’ll take a shower then. It wouldn’t do Dad any good, but I tended to do my best thinking in the shower. There was something about the pitter patter of water against my skin that got my creative mind flowing.
But I had no answers when I stepped out of the shower. My only option was the one thing I very desperately didn’t want to do— go see my father. He was the only person I knew who had enough money and even if he gave me ten times what I asked for, he wouldn’t feel it. It would be like most people buying an iced coffee; insignificant.
But me asking for it emphasized and highlighted he had power over me. It was going to suck, but what else could I do? Letting Dad suffer wasn’t an option. No matter how distasteful asking Father for money was, I’d do it for Dad.
I dressed in what my father would find “suitable” and headed to his office building. I didn’t even call to see if he was going to be there. That would only give him the opportunity to tell me not to come and I was so not in the mood to deal with that crap. Now that I decided to beg him for the money, I wasn’t willing to wait.
Thankfully, he was there and his personal assistant tried to waylay me as I headed to his office.
“Hey, Father. Got a minute?” I stood in the doorway knowing better than to set a single foot inside before he invited me.
“If you think you’re going to back out now…”
I started to reply that this had nothing to do with the wedding when I realized he was on video chat.
“No—” and before the person at the other end got another word out, Father disconnected the call and closed his laptop.
