Page 156 of Two Marlboros

“They told me they had tanned you for the holidays and I came to see how you were doing.”

“Thank you.”

Old Nathan would have asked what he had done to deserve such attention, why he hadn’t sent Mom. Then I remembered the fight, and that last question was quickly answered. My stomach tightened a little and my heart lost a beat. Would she ever come to see me? Or was sending my father a sign that she would never bury the hatchet?

No, it couldn’t be that way. I didn’t want to believe that.

My father had come on his own initiative, although it was still unclear to me what had driven him all the way to the hospital - but after all, everything revolving around him was a matter that no longer concerned me, right?

There was a tinge of curiosity, of course, but it was something old Nathan would have felt, not me. And although the curiosity was perhaps more than a hint, I would not have asked for it. I had freed myself from his shackles and I was not going to fall for it again. In fact, I would have just waited until October to leave and start again, leaving all those messes behind, including father.

However…

“Regarding the insurance, don’t you worry.”

Why had he said that? Was it perhaps a way of telling me that he would take care of it? Impossible, but I wasn’t going to ask him anything. That was an old Nathan question, and I was different. I had changed now. I shrugged.

“I haven’t told your mother anything. Do you want me to?”

What was that fatherly tone? He had been a shit all those years, and at that moment he was so… so fatherly! “I heard you had been tanned well and I came,” “Do you want me to tell your mother?”, “Is the insurance money enough for you? If not, I’ll pay.” Screw him! What was all that concern? What the heck was it?

“Do whatever you want! I don’t care.”

The flare-up died down almost immediately, partly because I felt a twinge in my chest that forced me to become calm again. Why was he doing that? What did he want from me? He hadn’t acted like that for years.

I went over what he had said about my mother. She didn’t know anything. I sensed something akin to relief because she had disproved my conjecture, but it was followed soon after by a tinge of disappointment, because the fact that she was in thedark about what had happened to me would prevent her, in the event, from worrying about me.

I emitted a choked sigh. Worrying about me was something she would never do again, right?

I clutched the sheet and that question flashed through my mind once again. A question I could have asked my father, because he was there beside me, but the very thought caused me discomfort because it would have meant seeking his help, his comfort, and that was not something the new Nathan would do. If I showed him my soft side he would take advantage of it, and I could not afford any more war wounds.

I stared at the window and realized only then that I had barely and most of the time surreptitiously looked at him, while he had not taken his eyes off me for a second.

“I didn’t think you would behave this way with your mother.”

I cast a glance at the television set in front of me. Was that the best I would do? That was something the old Nathan would have done - the old one, not me. I would have looked him in the eye and sustained who had once been my father.

My gaze left the television and scrolled over the cabinet next to it and lingered on the medical instruments laid there; it then passed to the foot of the other bed, followed the shapes of my roommate’s white sheet, until it crossed a red-and-blue plaid pattern: my father’s shirt. In one shot, I stared at him as fiercely as I knew he would stare at me too, but I ended up looking like a lion and he a timid gazelle. There was no trace of venom in his eyes, certainly not as much as there was in mine.

I went back to staring at my hands, snuggled in my lap. My father was not angry or even enraged. He seemed almost like a normal person. There was an understanding that I had not seen in his gaze since that fateful evening years earlier. There was something strange about it, something that didn’t compute,and most of all, something I couldn’t understand. But the new Nathan would no longer be interested in his father. I had said it was a closed chapter, hadn’t I?

“I only told Mom the truth,” I replied. “If she got upset, that’s her problem.”

A venomous response, thank you. A perfect dish on the “Nathan menu. Could you add a little bitch oil to it?” That’s it, yes. The icing on the cake for the old Nathan. Or was it for the new one?

“She was really hurt by what you said to her. But I never thought you would do that. I liked you.”

It’s a scam, new Nathan. Don’t fall for it.Old Nathan knew a lot about my father, but he knew little or nothing about his pandering. He would never have said those things. “I liked you?” What was that all about? What did that mean?

I peeked at the clock: visiting hours were over. My father had wasted a lot of time by keeping quiet, time that perhaps he could have used differently.

“Look you have to leave now. Otherwise, the nurse will come by and yell at you.”

And my father certainly wasn’t going to get yelled at by a nurse. He stood up almost immediately, with no need to repeat the concept to him. He grabbed the chair and lifted it to take it with the others to a spot where they wouldn’t bother, and for a moment I thought he was going to leave without saying goodbye.

“Goodbye, Nathan.”

“Goodbye,” I strained to reply, almost relieved.

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