‘Nick.’
‘Mama, where is he?’ I see the look of defeat, and the hope in her eyes that my being here brought disappears when she sees it’s not a happy visit. ‘Ma, I’m sorry.’ I lean in to kiss her cheek and give her a hug. ‘I need to talk to him.’
‘He’s out back.’
Heading through the house, I take some deep breaths to try and stem the flow of my hurt and anger. Then I see him sitting in his chair with a bottle of beer in his hand, and it all ramps up to a hundred.
‘You sold the shop,’ I call out as I approach, and he turns to look up at me.
‘Nicholas, what a pleasant surprise.’
‘Cut the crap, Dad. You sold it.’
‘I did, got an offer I couldn’t refuse.’
‘So, you sold it all without talking to me.’
‘Not all of it. You have your apartment, but the shop and the other place, yeah. I don’t have to talk to you about my business.'
I shake my head, unable to believe what I’m hearing.
'You going to give mom any of the money, or do you plan on drinking it all away?’
‘Watch your tone, Nick.’
‘I can’t believe you would do this. So much for the history and the Barber name — a nice fat paycheck made it all go away, huh?’
He stands now, and the little boy in me winces, so I take a step back.
‘You didn’t want it. You abandoned this family.’
‘No, I didn’t. I abandonedyou.’
Silence descends between us as we stand, staring each other in the eye. I’m not a little boy anymore. I can stand up to him.
‘You’re a disappointment to this family.’
I laugh, unable to contain it. ‘You know, you’re the only father I know who would rather your child cut hair for a livingthan become a vet. I worked my ass off to get to where I am.’
‘Where you are is the same small town you were always meant to be in. You didn’t get anywhere.’ He sits again as though the conversation is over, but I’m not done.
‘I’m sorry he died instead of me. I know you would have preferred it the other way around. I was always a disappointment to you, but I hope you know that the feeling is mutual.’
Turning, I walk out of my parents’ backyard and head for my car. I need a drink.
Sitting at the bar, I scratch at the label on my bottle with my thumbnail. I wanted a drink, but I can’t really stomach it.
Growing up, I was taught that the Barber name meant everything. We are Barbers by name and occupation. My family has been cutting hair in Forest Falls for as long as Forest Falls has existed, and that shop has been ours for generations.
When I opened up the clinic right next door, I had all these dreams of working alongside my family, trying to prove something to my dad and to convince him to love me. I had this stupid idea that I could heal my family by showing him that we Barbers could do more than just cut hair, and I mightfinally make him proud, but that was stupid. As if he hadn’t already spent years making me feel less than shit on his shoe, when I left for college, my dad told me he would never forgive me for deserting the family business and our legacy, and if he hadn’t already made it clear, he was ashamed that I was his son.
Clint, my amazing big brother, loved cutting hair. He was happier in the shop than Dad ever was, and he couldn’t wait to take it on, but he got sick. His kidneys failed, and he was gone in what felt like a minute. Dad closed the shop, unable to face it without Clint, and the Barber legacy in Forest Falls died with my brother.
I wasn’t a match. I wanted so badly to be his donor, to save his life. Every day, I was saving the lives of countless animals, but I couldn’t save my own brother. As if he needed a reason, my dad resented me even more for that. It was another failure, another disappointment.
I should have gone. I should have left Forest Falls after the funeral and never looked back, but my mom had already lost one son, and I couldn’t do it to her.
I thought, despite it all, that with Clint gone, Dad would still leave the rest of the building to me. I’d started to think about extending the clinic into theshop, taking on another vet, and renting the other apartment to them. I’d already thought about talking to Doug to get it all fixed up.