Might as well. It’s not like he’s going to say anything of great significance to you here.
“Well...” I said.
Funny, wasn’t it, how for as much as I was judging my father for not revealing more about himself and how he was feeling, I was suddenly finding it all but impossible for me to open up about my world.
“I, um, well—”
“Spit it out! Unless it’s nasty, in which case, maybe find a sink.”
I rolled my eyes, but the joke was enough to get me to lighten up.
“I have a date tonight.”
“A date?” my father said. “Like the fruit?”
I should have known.
Even something as light and simple as a date would draw sarcasm and joking from my father. But he wasn’t saying those things to make me feel comfortable or laugh. He was doing it because he was too scared to ever really get to know me.Because if he did, he’d have to own up to all of his failures with me.
“Like, a real date with a man, Dad,” I said. “And I’ve got to get ready for it. But it was... it was good talking to you.”
“I sure hope it wasn’t bad!”
Oh, Dad…
“You know what else wouldn’t be bad?” he said, his voice still joking. “Visiting me.”
Those last two words were still said with a dash of too-lighthearted humor, but it was very obvious that such humor was a shield. He couldn’t completely control his tone, and his anxiety and nervousness were apparent.
It was, I suspected, as much as I would get out of this call.
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
And then I hung up.
I wasn’t in a mental frame of mind to just say yes. I had too much history with my father to do that. Maybe that was hypocritical, but I couldn’t care much.
And then, as I realized that I had lied about getting ready for a date that wasn’t happening until Sunday, it hit me.
That was the first time since I had run away that my father had asked me to come and visit him.
It had been over ten years since I had run away. We’d talked for a couple of years now, ever since he got sober, but he’d never, ever made that request. It had felt like a barrier that would never come down.
And now, it finally had.
I bowed my head, put my chin in my hands, and started to cry.
My father had finally extended an olive branch.
And I wasn’t ready.
I had said no.
* * *
Sunday Evening
I was ready, however, to finally see Phoenix.
