fine on his own for a long time, and insisted he didn’t need help or medical professionals hovering over him.
My response was the same whenever we argued about it. I told him if he agreed to move to California so I could be close by and check on him regularly, I would dial back the number of people suddenly helping him regulate his life. I tried to make him understand I needed to make sure he was in good hands while I was working, or I wouldn’t be able to think about anything else but his health. He’d had two stents put in his arteries and a pretty serious obstruction taken care of. The cardiologist warned him that he needed to change his diet, start an exercise routine, and eliminate as much stress from his life as possible if he didn’t want to end up in a much more dire situation.
At first, I thought he would write the whole thing off as nothing more than an inconvenience like he usually did any major issue. But when I couldn’t stop crying each time I visited him in the hospital, I think he finally realized this matter wasn’t just taking a toll on him. I stayed with him for the week he was in the hospital, and then two more when he went home to recover. My dad was a tough guy and used to having his own space, so I knew I was wearing out my welcome with each passing day. It wasn’t like he was rude or overtly hinting he would like me to leave; it was more like he constantly asked about work and if it was okay that I was away from my responsibilities for so long. I think he wanted me to go back to California so he could sneak a cheeseburger once there was no risk of getting caught. He definitely wasn’t a fan of all the veggies that now made up the bulk of his diet.
I put down my phone and called out, “Dad.” When he turned to look in my direction, I gave him a grin. “I just sent a message to Lennon. She’s getting me a flight home either tomorrow or the next day. I’ll get out of your hair, but you have to promise not to give any of the new staff a hard time once I’m gone. I can’t let anything happen to you; you know that.”
I’d sent Arrow home last weekend to ensure everything on the home front was as it should be. She’d been a lifesaver, running errands and going to and fro so I didn’t have to be out in public much while I was here. It was pretty common knowledge that my dad lived in New Mexico and I visited often, but I still didn’t want his business made public. Miraculously, there hadn’t been a single leak about his heart condition or the fact that Salinger was in Santa Fe at the same time I was.
Salinger kept his promise not to say anything. If I didn’t have so much on my mind, I would’ve been pleasantly surprised.
Dad stopped his slow, shuffling pacing and turned to look at me. He was a tall man—one who was broad from years of manual labor and hard work. I’d inherited my dark hair from him, though his had gone very silvery at the temples and threaded through the front. He was handsome in a rough, rugged kind of way. I often wondered why he didn’t date much or take the chance to remarry. It wasn’t like he lacked attention from the opposite sex. I clearly remembered my fifth grade teacher having the biggest, most obvious crush on him. Sometimes I thought she called him in for parent-teacher conferences not because she was concerned about my progress, but because she wanted to flirt with him. I never understood why he stayed alone when he had women chasing after him all the time. His appeal hadn’t waned with age.
“That’s good. You should get back to work. You’ve been out of the public eye for too long. They might forget about you.” He gave me a grin to let me know he was just kidding and propped his hands on his hips. “This is the longest we’ve seen each other in a while. It was nice, but next time, let’s make sure neither one of us is recovering from a major medical incident.”
The last time we spent more than a few days together was