Page 103 of All The Things: The Last Thing He Needs Omnibus

Time to play around with plants and grow his own food. Must be nice. And why was it every word that came out of Cal’s mouth made Tommy want to stab him with his plastic fork? Anyone else in the world and Tommy would be happy for them, or at least not actively wishing they’d choke on one of their homegrown tomatoes.

Tommy took another bite and hated himself for wanting to ask for the recipe. He cooked dinner more often than not for the kids and, watching the way Collin—his pickiest eater—put it away, Tommy thought even Judy would like it. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He did take a long, hard assessment of his old man, though. He looked good. Better than Tommy had ever seen him. He’d been looking better and better since that first and only visit Tommy had made to see him in rehab. Clean-shaven, eyes clear and bright green—not unlike Tommy’s own. His hair had a lot more gray in it than it used to, but Cal kept it cropped short and tidy. Even under his nails was clean, which was a surprise given all the plants. He had the lights on, a roof over his head, food in his cupboards… He really was doing okay. Doing better than Tommy had hoped. Hell, he was doing better than Tommy insisted he do in order to see the kids. Not homeless and not blitzed wasn’t a very high bar, but Cal had vaulted over it, and goddamn it all, Tommy had to give him some credit for that.

Even if he still hated him and still kind of hoped he walked in front of a bus sooner rather than later.

“Place looks good, Pop,” he said quietly. Then, costing him a lot, he added, “Glad you’re doin’ good.” Was he? Glad? Maybe not. But maybe in some way, he was. If he was going to be in the kids’ lives at all, even on the periphery, yeah, Tommy was glad. Because even if he couldn’t have had the kind of father who cooked dinner and grew herbs and vegetables and looked at his drawings and patted his head and asked him to help in the kitchen and whatever the fuck else this impersonator of their father did, Tommy was glad the kids could have it. Even if it was only once a week, only supervised, only on Tommy’s terms. Because not even Judy argued on Cal’s behalf when it came to the supervised part.

Thank Christ.

“Thanks, son,” Cal said after he took a sip of his water. He met Tommy’s eye, and the expression there made Tommy wonder if it was costing Cal something too. To look him in the eye. “I’ve been trying. I can’t make up for anything, but I can at least not… I can be the kind of person you guys might like to know.”

A million shitty things danced on the tip of Tommy’s tongue, but instead, he said, “That’s good.” And somehow, he made it sound like a compliment rather than a commentary.

After dinner, they played a few rounds of cards and ate one cookie each—which Cal had baked. And even those tasted pretty fucking good.

When it came time to leave, Max and Zoe gave him a hug, Carrie waved and smiled for him. Collin and Davey only nodded, but when Cal handed Davey a sack with the rest of the cookies and told him to make sure Judy and Bobby got some, Davey had thanked him and flashed him a conflicted smile—one that Tommy could see from a mile off because it was the same one Tommy and Colleen and Mike always had when their father was doing good for a short stretch and doing something nice and right and fun. Because they all loved those times. They all waited around for those times. But when they came, it was almost more painful than the everyday bullshit of living with an alcoholic and his drug-addict wife because you always knew what to expect from a drunk or someone too high to remember their own name. But fun and nice and kind and thoughtful were short-lived and losing it all over again, every time, hurt like a motherfucker. Until they all gave up and stopped hoping for it.

And maybe that was what Davey and Collin were going through. Too young to remember their father when he was still somewhere in the drop zone of decent, this was all new to them and maybe even scary, maybe even hopeful. Tommy had the hope beaten out of him years ago, but not those two. Not Max or Zoe or Carrie either.

So, yeah. Now it really mattered to Tommy that his old man stay clean and sober, and that, well, that just pissed him off. Because it scared the shit out of him.

“Maybe we can do this again sometime,” Cal said as he walked them to the car. A nice newish little SUV that Tommy was making payments on. Big enough to fit almost all of them. Something that ran and had seat belts and brakes and tread on the tires. A fucking miracle compared to their old station wagon.

“Yeah, maybe,” Tommy said as he watched Max and Zoe buckle themselves into their booster seats. “Thanks for having us over,” he added awkwardly.

Cal ran a hand through his hair and glanced down before meeting Tommy’s eye again. “You’re all welcome here anytime. Day or night.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tommy said. But he wouldn’t. He’d never just drop in on his old man. And if he did, it probably wouldn’t end well.

“Tell Colleen and Mike hello for me when you talk to them.” Cal cleared his throat. “I don’t hear from them much, but Judy says they’re doing great and Colleen is thinking about becoming a counselor?”

“Therapist, yeah.” Because a shrink in the family was exactly what they all needed.

Cal smiled at that. “That’s incredible. I’m glad she’s finding her way.”

No thanks to Cal. Or maybe it was thanks to him. If Colleen hadn’t been through so much shit, she might not feel the need to go into other people’s trauma just to sort out her own. Not that that was the whole reason for her career path, but Tommy thought it was at least partly for that. “She’s workin’ real hard,” Tommy said, holding back every other thought as he tried to get into the car, drive away, not look back. “I better get home, get the twins to bed,” he said, nodding at the car, everyone buckled inside.

“Yeah, of course. Good to see you tonight.”

And for one horrifying moment, Tommy thought Cal was going to lean in and hug him. Instead, he made an aborted effort at a handshake before finally stepping back. He hadn’t hugged his father since his and Bobby’s wedding day a couple of years back, but Tommy had been half-drunk on champagne and happiness and Bobby that night. He had no intentions of making a habit out of hugs with anyone, let alone his old man.

“See ya around, Pop. Thanks for dinner.”

Cal walked around to the sidewalk and didn’t go back inside, just watched and waved as they made their escape.

“Please tell me we don’t have to do that again anytime soon,” Davey said, his breath dumping out of him in a sharp sigh.

Zoe turned to look at him. “I like his plants.”

“Me too,” Carrie said.

Max piped up then. “His spaghetti is better than Tommy’s.”

Tommy gripped the wheel a little tighter, his knuckles turning white.

Collin ate another cookie. Tommy watched him in the mirror but didn’t say anything. Mostly because what he wanted to say would probably be the wrong thing. Instead, he tried to let the kids sort out their feelings on their own. Which was a lot easier than trying to help because Tommy hadn’t even sorted out his own.

---