“And if we do more than forty, we might make a decent profit.”
“People will also want to get married on Fridays and…Sundays.” His father crossed himself at this blasphemy, but Raffi knew despite his religious objections he wouldn’t turn down those Franklins.
“This is good,” Moushegh said, nodding.
Raffi realized this was it; this was the moment his father acknowledged that Raffi did, in fact, have a good idea, that he had succeeded. He wasn’t going to get much else, not now, not with their relationship so damaged over the years. But it was a start. A tiny flame of warmth that had been long dormant now sparked. Although somehow, even with that, he still felt run through, clawed at. What was this all without Ani?
“This is all good,” his father repeated, “yet you look like shit.”
Raffi almost laughed but just said, “Thanks.”
“Is it because you ruined things with that girl, Ani?” his father asked.
Raffi snapped to attention. “How do you know?”
Moushegh tapped a knuckle on the table. “I’m no idiot. I was watching you all night. Yesterday, compared to thehinoum, something big had changed. And I’m sure you’re to blame.”
“I mean—not entirely, but partly, yes,” Raffi said.
“Don’t put this on her. It’s time to man up.”
Raffi rolled his eyes. “We’ve talked about this. You and I don’t agree on what that means.”
“Raffi. Let’s put that aside for a moment. Do you love this woman?”
Raffi took a deep breath. It felt so vulnerable to talk about this with his dad. Raffi didn’tshare. So tentatively, he said, “Yes.”
Moushegh nodded. “It is time to show her that whatever you did, you are sorry. That no matter what, you are there for her.”
“Dad, I—”
His dad wasn’t done. He charged on. “Men don’t beg. Except—except—when it comes to women. When it’s a woman you love, you must get down on your knees and grovel.” Then he stared at his shoes and his voice softened. “I should have done that with your mother years ago. Now it is too late.”
Raffi’s heart seized with sadness. His father’s regrets about his mom. The things they’d said to each other. How his father never ran after his mother and brought her back. He could have gotten on a plane and gone to her. But he hadn’t. And he regretted it. That meant so much.
“Mom’s coming home for Christmas. She texted me.” He ventured a look at his father, who seemed to be considering this, slightly lightened. Raffi said, “Maybe not too late?”
His father nodded once. “Maybe.”
Raffi felt a surge of hope. If his father, stalwart that he was, after years of acting one way, after so much loss, could change in his older age, then maybe Raffi hadn’t completely ruined things with Ani. Maybe, even after his mistakes, after what had gone wrong between them, it wasn’t too late for him, either. There was still time to fight for what mattered.
He knew it. He just felt it. This was not his and Ani’s final chapter. They were meant to be together, to grow old together, on one pillow, as the Armenian saying went. It was on him to fix it.
“For now,” his father added, “concentrate on turning this place from a bachelor pad into a family home.”
“I’ll think about that.” Raffi smiled. He couldn’t help it.
There was so much he and his father disagreed on, but this was one definition of masculinity he could get behind. Being there for his family. Supporting, loving, no matter what. He realized that this was the kind of care his father had always wanted to show his mother, but somewhere along the line he had decided that working hard and providing money was the only kind of support he was “allowed” to give. And it led to so much misery in their family, especially after Sevan died.
But now his father, in his own way, seemed to be trying to tell Raffi to do better than him. And he would. He would.
“Got any kebabs in the fridge?” his dad asked.
“For breakfast?”
“Son, it’s always kebab time.”
Raffi laughed, a genuine laugh that eased his cracked heart the tiniest bit. There was still so much work to do, and he wasn’t sure where to start. Maybe his book club would have an idea.
