I clap a hand over my mouth. This is awful news, and he’s going to have a long recovery ahead of him. He’ll have to take time off from his job. Time he likely can’t afford.
I also don’t know how to deal with this sort of thing when it comes to him. If it were Mom, I would drop everything and go to her. My tenuous new relationship with Dad makes this whole thing feel awkward.
Then again, if the situation were reversed, he would come to me. I’ve been thinking back to my childhood lately. My parents divorced when I was in elementary school, and Dad was in and out of our lives after that like a traveler. He sent money sometimes. When Blaine had his accident in highschool, though, Dad did come back to Kentucky right away. He spent a few weeks on Mom’s couch, though he and Mom nearly bit each other’s heads off. He left again when we were settled, claiming he would send money to help us, and though he didn’t always keep that promise, he did seem heartbroken that Blaine was hurt.
Maybe that’s why Blaine carries so much animosity toward him—all the sudden Dad tried to play the role of a caring parent, when he’d been absent so much.
I’ve come to think of him as a deeply flawed man with whom I can have some contact here and there in some limited form, especially since it seems to mean a lot to him now. I’m not sure what’s changed, but him fretting over standing me up is new behavior for him.
I come to a decision, then make a couple of phone calls.
It’s late in the afternoon by the time I make it to Lexington. I turn toward a voice calling my name in the hospital lobby.
“Blaine? I didn’t think you’d come. I only thought you’d want to know about it.”
He pushes over to where I’m standing. “I don’t want much to do with him, but I did want to make sure he’s not, like, at death’s door or anything.” He looks down at his feet.
“I understand. I’m glad you’re here.”
I’m shocked, is what I am. I don’t say much more about it, though. We make our way to the unit where our father is admitted. He’s alone when we get there.
He turns a groggy gaze on me when I enter, then smiles. His mouth drops when he sees Blaine behind me.
“Son,” he says, swallowing.
Blaine nods at him. “Hello.”
My dad’s face pales under his graying beard as he stares atBlaine, who shifts uncomfortably in his chair. I feel like I’m intruding, like I’m witnessing a reunion I shouldn’t be part of. I don’t remember my own reconnection with our dad being this dramatic. It seems strange, given they’ve likely seen each other around town here and there, but this must be the first time Blaine has spent any voluntary time with the man in nearly a decade.
“How are you feeling?” I step toward the edge of his hospital bed. Dad’s still staring at Blaine like he’s a ghost, but he breaks away to look at me when I touch his arm.
“I’m hurting,” he says with a shrug. “But they’ve taken real good care of me here. Real good.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
I study him, cataloging his state. The space around his eye shows a faint bruise, like he hit it against something in the accident. His leg is under his blankets, but I see the bulk where he’s got on some kind of immobilizing device. His hair is a little unkempt, but otherwise he looks like the same hale, imposing man I’ve always known.
“What happened?” I pull his attention back to me again. Blaine is still behind me, clearing his throat occasionally.
“Wasn’t my fault,” Dad starts.
Blaine snorts.
“It really wasn’t,” Dad says. “Somebody T-boned me at an intersection. Smashed up the driver’s side of my car like a tin can. Surprised it didn’t kill me.”
“You had your seatbelt on?” Blaine finally chimes in now.
“Yep. Probably saved me.” He smiles at Blaine. “It was a terrible fright, but I’m glad it brought you here. Maybe I ought to almost die more often.”
Blaine looks away.
“It’s okay, Son.” Dad sits up a little, wincing as he does so. “How have you been?”
Blaine sighs. “I’m okay.” He smiles. “Great, actually. Gloria, my wife, is pregnant. We’re having a baby.”
The air in the room stills. Even the noise out in the hallway seems to quiet.
“Oh?” Dad’s voice is small.
