“He tried, but he said there was trafficand?—”
“It doesn’t matter.” Portia hiccups through her tears. “He should’ve tried harder.”
“He’s very busy at work with the holiday parties at the club.”
Even though Cheryl was pissed at me, she defended me to Portia.
“I know, but I wanted him to see me up on stage.” Portia wipes at her eyes. “I was okay when he missed the Halloween parade and the school carnival, but I really wanted him to be at the holiday concert.”
“I know, I know.” Cheryl hugs Portia to her, and I think of my own mother.
“Look familiar?” Frank prompts.
“Completely fuckin’ different. I’m not an abusive bastard like my old man. I’ve provided for my family, given them the best—given them everything.”
“Except the one thing they really want—you.”
Portia silently weeps into Cheryl’s shoulder, and my heart aches.
“Tell her to stop crying. Tell her I’m sorry.”
“It’s too late,” Frank states. “You can’t change what’s already happened.”
“Shit!” I turn my eyes away from Portia and mumble, “Make this stop.”
“Only you have the power to make it stop.”
“I’ll do anything. Just tell me what to do,” I beg.
“Stop being an asshole and enjoy what you’ve got.”
“That’s your advice.”
“Just ‘cause I’m a ghost, don’t expect me to get all mushy and sappy. I’m telling you straight out—shape up and start treating my daughter and my granddaughter right, or I’m gonna call in some of my Brooklyn connections.”
“I’ve worked so hard to get to this point. I’m afraid if I don’t keep going at this pace, it will all disappear.”
“The only thing that will disappear is your family. Don’t make the same mistakes I made with Cheryl. Be there for your kid. Let her know you care.”
“I do care. I do.” I reach out to Portia and Cheryl, but they fade away.
14
NICK
I’m back on the patio, but my brain is banging against my skull. Pressing the heel of my hand to my forehead doesn’t stop the painful visions of my past or the traitorous ones of my present. I’m dreading the future, ‘cause I don’t think I can take much more of this shit. I eye the bottle of bourbon, but before I can reach for it, a dark, ominous cloud hovers over the pool.
When it circles closer, I suck in a deep breath, but I’m sure as shit not ready for what materializes. The black cloud takes the form of The Grim Reaper, scythe and all.
“Come with me.” He holds out his bony fingers, and I hesitate. When he lifts his head, I’m faced with the hollowed eyes of a skeleton.
“Don’t be afraid. I am not an agent of death, or a force of evil, but a light into your future.”
“I don’t wanna know my future.”
“But you must if you intend on straightening out the present.”
“So, you’re the Ghost of Christmas Future?”
