after four years in DC that she’d be used to it and stop comparing it to Georgia weather.
You might think that, and you’d be wrong.
Not only the weather, but about work, her family, and—her favorite topic of all—me.
Of course I have to meet up with my dad during this visit. He requested an appointment with me for two p.m. this Friday afternoon, meaning I’ve got to work through lunch to be able to fit the rest of my schedule in.
Or…
I decide to be a dick and order sushi for a late lunch, so that when he arrives, I’m sitting at my desk and eating.
I’m already convinced today’s visit will be him wanting to talk about me announcing my re-election campaign, because time is drawing close for that announcement one way or the other, and Daniel still hasn’t solidified any plans for me yet in that regard.
Once my AA closes the door to my office, my father’s mask drops. “What the fuck is that shit?”
He’s walking today, but he looks shaky as hell. I know his “assistant”—as he calls his home healthcare aid—is waiting for him in the outer office, because I saw her out there when he walked in.
“It’s my lunch. Hello to you, too, Dad.”
I don’t bother getting up or hugging him. Even if he was a hugger with me—which he’s never been—I’m eating my lunch.
“That’s bait.” I’m tempted to laugh out loud because that’s always been his go-to comment about sushi.
“Did you request time with me to criticize my diet, or to talk to me?” I use chopsticks and everything, just to rub it in.
He finally lowers himself into one of the chairs in front of my desk and makes a disgusted face as he does. “I raised you better than that.”
Why can’t that heart attack hurry up and kill him? Or another stroke, I’m not picky. Anytime, and now would be nice.
Instead of arguing with him, I take another bite of my California roll and stare at him.
“I’ve got cancer,” he finally says.
I’m certain I’ve misheard him. “What?”
“Bone cancer. It’s metastasized. I’m looking at…options.”
For the first time in my life, my father actually looks more than frail, now that I’m paying attention.
He looks…
Like he’s dying.
I put down my chopsticks and sit back in my chair so I can dab at my mouth with a napkin. “What are your treatment options?”
“The doctor wants to discuss them with us.”
I’m certain I misheard him. “Us?”
“You and me. You’re my son and listed as my medical power of attorney. He requested I bring you to my consultation on Monday morning.”
Fuck. I’m mentally rearranging my schedule in my head, then pause.
Father or not, why should I upend my life for him? “Are you sure you want me there?”
“He strongly suggested I bring you.”
Shit. I guess I’m going. “I’ll need to call Olivia and—”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
He glares at me. “No one is to be told about this. Not until after I beat it. Not even my…assistant.”
Okay, now I’m…lost. “Why?”
“Do you really think I want to look weak? I’d be replaced in party leadership. I’m not ready to let go of that yet.”
Oh. Of course.
It’s all about the image.
“Fine. I won’t tell anyone. But you’ll need to come up with an excuse why you’re visiting an oncologist, won’t you? I mean, if your ‘assistant’ asks questions?”
“That’s my worry, not yours. I’ll send you the info with the address and time.” He pushes himself up out of his chair.
“That’s…it? We’re done?”
“Yeah.”
I sit forward. “Do you want to talk about this?”
“Not really, no. I know you’ve been hoping I’d drop dead before now, but no such luck for you. I’m sure I’ll beat this, too.”
Sure he does. Narcissists can’t imagine a world in which they lose.
“And, anyway,” he continues. “Even if I wasn’t going to beat it, all my paperwork and everything is in order. You know that.”
Tha’s the only plus I can give my father. His hatred of the government and his desire to fuck it over by manipulating it works in my favor. He doesn’t want “his money” getting sucked up in death taxes. Which is why he’s got everything in a trust that I’m a member of.
He dies, and everything is mine.
Once he leaves, I ask my AA to hold my calls for me for a few minutes and I immediately call Daniel.
He’s quiet for a moment after I finish telling him. “No shit?” he says.
I lean back in my chair and rub my forehead. “It sounds serious. Dare I hope the end is