Page 52 of Mr. Frosty Pants
“Did you get Katie to warm it up for you?”
“If you weren’t a failure as a son, I wouldn’t need to bother the nurses with crap like warming up my Egg McMuffin.”
How had he fallen for it again? He always did. He couldn’t just keep his mouth shut long enough to avoid the bait his father set. He walked into the trap of an argument every single time. Maybe he really did lack discipline since he told himself constantly not to engage, to keep his thoughts to himself, and to let his father say whatever it was he wanted to say without dignifying it with a response.
“I’m sorry, Pop,” he said quietly, smoothing the last of his dad’s messy hair down with his fingers. “I’ll do better.”
“Your mother wouldn’t have left me hungry,” his father snarled. “She’d have made sure I had plenty of food to eat. She’d bring full breakfasts, not this Egg McMuffin crap.”
“You like Egg McMuffins. That’s all you’ve ever asked me to bring.”
Stop, Joel. Leave. Go on to work. Let him stew in it.
“Because I know you’re so worthless you’d never bring anything else. It’s the best I can hope for.”
Joel put his father’s comb back where he got it, keeping his voice calm. “Do you need something to drink? I’ll get some water.”
Rattling the bag, his father pulled out his breakfast and unwrapped it with gnarled fingers. “Get a Sprite.”
Joel didn’t really want to spend a dollar-fifty on a soda at the overpriced vending machine at the end of the hall, but he wasn’t going to let his father get under his skin any more than he already had. He could already feel him wearing away at the magic Casey had left behind on him, or in him, like some kind of fizzy blessing on his nerves and skin.
When he passed the Sprite into his father’s shaking hand, his eyes fell on the photo of his mother on the wall. Her dark hair and wide smile that crinkled up the corner of her eyes reminded him somehow of Casey, and he wondered if his father had been as starstruck by her.
“When you met Mom,” he started slowly, because his mother could be a volatile subject for his father, “was it love at first sight, or did it take time?”
His father chewed his breakfast, a frown creasing his forehead. “She was beautiful.”
“Yeah.”
“I knew I wanted her to be my wife the first time I held her in my arms. I met her at a wedding. We danced.”
Joel let out a slow breath, softening his boundaries and allowing a tentative hope to blossom in his heart that he could have this conversation with his father without coming to regret it. “I figured it was like that. Did she feel the same way?”
“She did. Her father was another matter.” He grimaced. “And her asshole queer brother. Both of them were like you—worthless nancies.”
And there it was. Another hope dashed before it could come to full bloom. “Ah.”
“Why? Did you finally meet a skirt that turned your head?” He narrowed his eyes speculatively at Joel. “Or… Shit, son. Better not tell me it’s a faggot that’s caught your eye. I’m not too sick and old to beat the snot out of you.”
Joel let out his breath as slowly as possible, his heart twisting up hard even though he’d known what to expect from his father all along. He just wished he’d stop hoping for any evidence of a softening, a glimpse of unconditional love.
“No. I was just curious about you and Mom. You don’t talk about her much. Not like that.”
“You don’t deserve to know about her. If it wasn’t for you, she’d still be here.”
“I wasn’t eventherethat day.” Joel swallowed hard, shocked the words had burst out of him before he could rein them in.
“If not for you, she would’ve been with me at the store, working alongside me. After you came, she stayed home. Never should have let her have you. I was weak when it came to her. And look how it ended up? Her dead. You a fucking faggot. You’re my biggest regret. Wish you’d never lived to take a breath.”
“You don’t mean that. The stroke—”
“The stroke? Shit. I just don’t bother hiding it anymore. Stopped feeling guilty about the truth. That’s all the stroke did.”
A nurse’s shoes squeaked, and Joel’s neck heated up as he glanced over and saw Katie standing in the doorway. Her wide eyes let on that she’d obviously overheard more than either of them were comfortable with.
“I’ll come back later,” she mouthed at him.
He nodded and turned back to his pop who was devouring his Egg McMuffin like it was the most delicious food he’d ever tasted, just like he did every morning. Part of Joel wanted to know why he came here every day, why he bothered at all, if that was truly how his father felt about him.
