ours then.
I sit in the chair that’s settled next to the bed and see a vase of yellow, pink, and purple wildflowers with a card that says, “I love you— Stevie” sticking from the top of it.
“I’m still glad you came to see me. I have a lot to say,” he gasps between words, pressing the oxygen mask over his mouth.
That part of me that’s a dick thinks this is all just a show. He doesn’t really need that mask to breathe. It’s all a ruse. He is a professional conman, right? How am I supposed to believe this?
The evidence is staring at me in the face. He looks like shit. I rub my temples to get my thoughts together and try to ease the rage throbbing through every cell in my body.
“I know you have a lot of questions—”
“—No, not really. Not a lot. Just one.” I hold up one finger. I lean against the back of the chair and get comfortable, widen the stance of my legs as I slouch. “Why?”
“Why,” he repeats, nodding and clicking his tongue. “I’ve thought that every day ever since you held that gun to my head when you were sixteen.”
“But not a moment before, right?”
He places the oxygen mask over his mouth again and the plastic fogs with every breath he takes. “Honestly? No,” he admits. “I had gotten away with it for so long, I didn’t think I’d get caught.”
“You regret nothing? You just regret getting caught? Un-fucking-believable.”
“That’s not what I said.” A nasty coughing spree takes over again. “I can’t regret Carson, Stevie, or Brighton. I love them just like I love you.”
“And Mom? What about her? You were fucking horrible to her.”
“I regret that. Is… I don’t have a right to ask, but is she better?”
“Much. Living a full and happy life.” I leave out that I’m seeing her this Saturday. I don’t want him to know.
“That’s good. That’s real good. She deserves that.”
“She deserves everything, and I give it to her. Me. I became the man you couldn’t be. I became the dependable one. I worked my ass off. I didn’t finish high school because I had to get two jobs. I had to get my G.E.D. I provided. Me!” I hit my chest and sit forward.
“I took care of her when you didn’t. I got her the help she needed. Now, she’s a pottery instructor, doing what she loves. It pays surprisingly well, but I still take care of her so she can travel as much as she wants, so she can see the world how she wants because you took enough years from her. So don’t you dare sit there and tell me what she deserves, because you don’t know the first thing about what deserving means.”
“I know.”
“God, stop! Stop it!” I stand and smack the chair with my arm. “Stop being so… so…”
“Accepting?”
The air whooshes from my lungs as I place my hands on my hips. “Yeah, you’re making the fighting pretty fucking hard to do.”
“I don’t want to fight, Amos. I’m too tired, and I’ve had many years to think about everything I’ve done, and I’ve tried to come up with an excuse, with a reason, and I don’t have any. I wanted the best of both worlds. It was wrong, but I don’t regret my kids, Amos. I don’t. I can’t.”
I pluck one of the petals off of the flowers. It’s soft and almost has a velvety surface to it. “I know. It’s the one thing I can say about you. You loved us, but you were a shit husband. And no matter your effort of being a good father, what you did made you a bad one.”
“I know.” His hand quakes when he reaches for the cup of water next to the flowers. “So you met Carson, Stevie, and Brighton? Carson is a lot like you. Tough. He doesn’t take no shit.”
“So I’ve noticed.” I plop down the seat. “Stevie is nice.”
“She’s smart. The thinker of the bunch. And Brighton, well, he just turned sixteen so he’s pretty moody, but shy.”
“You sound proud of them.” It hurts to say more than I want to admit. “You went back to Kansas when I kicked you out, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know where else to go.”
“And when did they find out? The truth, when did they know?”
“I’ve had lung cancer for years now. I’ve been in remission twice, but this time it isn’t looking too promising. I told them when I was first diagnosed.”
“Got to