Page 59 of Running Into You
“Dad.” I nod back. “I like your gown.”
“Thanks. Blue’s always been my color.”
The exchange of pleasantries is too much for mom and she bursts into tears of happiness. We spend the next several minutes calming her down. Dad seems to be in good spirits, overall. He tells us that a nurse was in earlier to check his vitals and that everything was perfect.
“I’m completely fine and ready to go home.”
“Completely fine people don’t have heart attacks while out for an evening stroll,” Rilla argues. It likely would have triggered a fight between us if I had said it. But dad just gives her a smirk and boops her on the nose.
Mom is anxious to get an update report, so she and Rilla leave to ask the charge nurse when dad’s doctor is expected to check in on him. When left alone in the small room, an awkward silence descends on us.
“Thanks for making the drive, but you didn’t need to,” he says eventually, not looking at me.
I shrug. “I’ve been meaning to listen to the latest Taylor Swift album, so it all worked out.” He chuckles and we both relax. I walk from the foot of the bed to the window and perch on the ledge. My brain is still struggling to make sense of seeing him like this.
“Your mother says you’re enjoying your new job.”
Here we go.
“I am.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” There is not a trace of sarcasm in his voice.
“Since when?” I regret it as soon as I say it. His shoulders slump. The man just had a heart attack and I’m trying to start a fight. “I didn’t mean that, Dad. I’m sorry.”
“Yes, you did, and it’s okay.” He takes a deep breath and runs a tanned hand through his graying hair. “I haven’t been very supportive of you in recent years. I regret that deeply.”
I was not expecting that.
“It’s all right, Dad,” I say quickly, suddenly uncomfortable with the emotions threatening to take over my body.
“Except that it’s not. I’ve been thinking about you a lot and wanting to reach out but, you know. My mother always said that Pine skulls run thick.” We both laugh. “You know that I grew up with nothing. My father worked a manual labor job for eighty-hour weeks and was never at home. I knew he did it to be the best provider that he could be, but I felt that there had to be a better way to do it. So, I studied. I got my business degree and then my law degree and combined everything I’d learned to become the best provider I could be.”
I’ve heard all of this before, but I don’t interrupt him.
“And it worked. I had a career I was proud of and that allowed me to give my family the kind of life I wanted for them. I wanted the same for you. Then your mother’s father passed away and you and Rilla inherited all that money. When you decided to go into education, I didn’t understand. I thought you wanted to take the same path that I’d taken. It felt like you were taking the easy way out because of the money.”
“That’s not what happened,” I say quietly, unable to look at him. “I’ve always wanted to teach. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Hard to tell someone something when it’s clear that they don’t want to listen.” His voice is full of regret. I look at him and see the concern in his eyes. “I’m listening now, son. I hope it’s not too late.” He coughs as if to clear his throat, then looks back at me. “Do you like teaching?”
“I love it.”
“Are you good at it?” A hint of mock challenge appears on his face.
“I’m great at it.” I grin at him, blinking back tears.
“Then I’m a happy man. And a proud father.” He tentatively holds out his hand and I ignore it, throwing my arms around him in a hug instead. A long overdue hug. It’s hard to properly hug a man while he’s hooked up to a hospital bed that you’re leaning over, but this may be the closest I’ve ever felt to my dad.
“Your doctor should be here soon, darling.” Mom re-enters the room and momentarily freezes when she sees us. Without a word, she bursts into tears all over again.
“Can you two please stop getting along? You’re clearly upsetting Mom.” Rilla rolls her eyes, but it’s obvious she’s happy to see us together like this. I straighten up and make my way over to mom, bringing her in for another hug.
The four of us chat amicably while we wait for Dad’s doctor to arrive. It’s been a long time since it’s just been the four of us. Rilla is in the middle of telling us about a group of seventeen-year-olds who somehow managed to sneak into the bar where she works when a middle-aged woman enters the room. Her gray-streaked hair is swept up in a high ponytail, and she’s wearing a knitted sweater and dark jeans. There is a stethoscope around her neck.
“It looks like the entire family is here.” She smiles warmly at each of us. “How are you feeling today, Thomas?”
“Perfect. Ready to go home.” My father sits up a bit straighter in his hospital bed.
