Besides, what would I tell him? The motorcycle is non-negotiable for me.
I still remember the call on that dreadful night, when all my future plans got canceled in a pool of blood and motor oil.
Ethan had only one flaw: he was speeding… until he died.
“He never deserved you.” Dad looks at me with such clarity, I almost gasp. We hold our gazes for a moment, all the pain and unresolved feelings within reach to unravel. “You never deserved any of this.”
“What are you talking about?” I whisper.
“It’s more comfortable for you than living your own life.” A hint of disapproval—no, disappointment—flavors his statement.
What is he talking about? Ethan? What does he mean byany of this?
“Is Tessa coming?” he asks, his eyes again unfocused, staring somewhere in front of him.
Whiplash, anyone?
“She’s too busy with an event at the moment,” I say vaguely.
I might not even be lying, though I want to be petty and sayshe’s too busy to visit youinstead. Thatwouldn’t serve anyone, so I push my unreasonable sibling rivalry to the side.
“Sanjay, who works at your bistro with me, offered to implement some changes.” I hold my breath, hoping to engage him.
Not sure why. To absolve me of the guilt I’m feeling about changing anything my father left behind?
Usually when I broach the topic of the bistro, he either berates me, firing suggestions, or he is completely indifferent.
To my surprise, he levels me with another focused look. “It hasn’t been my bistro in years,” he says, with such indifference that I blink a few times, as if that could bring some understanding.
My visits here are never easy, but today is dredging up something I can’t yet pinpoint. Like Dad is laying out a puzzle for me. Only every piece is black, so I can’t build a picture from it.
“What are you talking about? It will always be your bistro.”
“Oh, Coraline.” He shakes his head. “As I said, that man was never good enough for you. He took away your dreams, and then he fucked off, and you settled for chasing mine. Such a shame.” His hands shake.
Stunned doesn’t even begin to describe how bewildered this entire exchange makes me. I want to talk to him. I want to open a bottle of Zinfandel and hear hisopinion, argue my point, find understanding. Like the old times.
But he can’t drink wine with all his medication. He speaks in riddles I no longer understand. And… as much as I don’t want to admit it, I’m afraid to push further.
This is the most intimate conversation I’ve had with him in the longest time. It’s been unsettling, as well. For both of us.
We sit in silence for a little while longer before I say my goodbyes.
I leave the home in a daze, almost missing my train stop. Above the station, I buy myself sunflowers from a florist on the corner of my street. It brings some joy, pulls me back to the present moment, but the unnerving energy lingers.
My life is unraveling at roller coaster-like speed, and I feel like an observer. I replay my father’s words in a loop, but they don’t bring any clarity.
The farther I am from his home, the more certain I am it was one of his confused statements. From a place where he gets lost in his own world, outside of this time and dimension.
At least at work I can lean on Sanjay. And maybe I should reclaim my personal life and ask Saar for Xander’s number. He deserves my explanation.
When I enter the bistro, the hair on my neckprickles immediately. Everything seems normal. There are no visible leaks, the power is on, and the display is filled with our usuals. I walk toward the counter as a few patrons smile my way.
I can’t pinpoint the source of my premonition until my eyes meet Sanjay’s.
“What is wrong?”
He looks away, wiping the polished surface around the sink. “We need to talk.”
