the gate go. It falls back against the rock-lined path that leads up to the house, and I hold up a hand and wave. “Hey, Dad.”
He comes out of the house further, his hand raised to shade his eyes. I feel Sophia by my side, hand entwining with mine as she pulls me toward the only blood relative I have left. Dad maneuvers around Sophia and engulfs me in a rib-crushing hug.
“I n-never thought you’d come back.” Surprisingly, his words are thick with emotion.
“TB is getting married. I’m the best man.”
Dad pulls away from me, wiping his eyes as he does.
“Right, right. Yeah, he’s marrying that nurse from the medical center. Nice girl, always polite.”
Sophia clears her throat, and Dad looks at her as though he’s only just realized she’s there.
“Dad, this is Sophia Thorne.”
He holds out his hand, and Sophia places hers in his and holds on with her other hand. I’ve seen her do this a thousand times, it’s an old trick to make people believe she cares.
“Mr. Livingston, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” Her words are saccharine sweet, and inwardly, I cringe and wish she wasn’t here.
“You’re that actress I’ve seen on TV.”
Sophia smiles warmly at him. “Yes, I’m an actor just like Kris.”
Dad glances at me, the barb from Sophia correcting him isn’t lost on him. I wait for him to say something, but all he does is turn his lips down at the corners and look at me.
“Do you want to come in, son? I know you’re probably busy.”
“Nonsense! We came here to visit you. Of course, we want to come in,” replies Sophia.
Dad nods and leads the way into my family home. I pull back on Sophia’s hand, letting him get ahead of us.
“Be nice,” I hiss.
In return, Sophia smiles, pulls out of my grasp, and walks into the house. I rub the back of my neck and look up at the sky.
I should have left her at the motel.
With a sigh, I venture into the house. Not a home. It was never that for me. The Boswell’s house is home. This was just a place where I existed. No love. No encouragement. Just a bitter old man. It hasn’t changed. The brown sofa still has plastic over it, the carpet is worn and threadbare in places. It needed to be replaced when I was young. The walls are the same cream that used to be white. It still looks like it did the day my mother died. It’s like he got stuck in time. Dad never moved on. They should have buried him the day she died for he stopped living that day too.
“Would you like a drink?” he asks, looking at me hopefully.
“Coffee?” I reply knowing full well he’ll have a pot on.
“Just made a pot,” Dad says cheerfully. “Sophia?”
Sophia goes to speak, and I talk over her, giving her a stony glare, so she knows not to argue with me.
“She’ll have coffee too, black no sugar.”
“Shall we go into the dining room?” asks Dad as he opens the door.
This was my mother’s favorite room. Apart from cleaning it, we never used it.
“Sounds delightful,” says Sophia.
I grab her by the elbow, stopping her.
“We don’t have to,” I say to my father, knowing that it brings up sad memories for him.
“It’s okay, son, your mother would have approved of us using it.”
I nod and follow Sophia into the room. The carpet in here looks brand new. Everything in here looks that way. Sophia sits at the dining table, the dark wood gleaming. It’s a traditional rectangle table with ornate legs and ten chairs with white padded seats around it. It was my mother’s pride and joy, she loved to entertain. It all stopped the day she died. Sophia takes everything in, and I say nothing as I wait for my father to come back with coffee.
“This room is exquisite.”
I look down at Sophia. I wonder if my mother would have approved of her? Probably not, all flash and no substance.
“My mom had good taste.”
“Is that you?” Sophia asks, pointing at a picture on the wall.
I nod. It’s a family portrait. I’m sitting in a chair with Mom and Dad standing either side of it, all of us smiling. It was a different time. Less than twelve months after it was taken, our worlds were torn apart.
Dad walks into the room holding two coffee cups. “Kris, could you get the coasters?”
I walk to the matching sideboard, it too gleams in the light.