"I hear you," I say. The jovial greeting turns quiet.
"So, listen," Jackson runs a hand through his hair. "One of my guys pulled your dad over tonight. He was pretty drunk, Owen."
Shame fills me. "He needs help … I'll make sure he gets it."
Jackson sits back on the corner of his desk, his hands steepled between his knees. "Slapping a DUI on your dad isn't going to help him. It might humiliate him, but it won't solve his problem. I'm thinking you and I make a deal. You get him into a treatment program, and I won't charge him with a DUI."
Gratefulness slides in, making a home for itself beside the shame warming my skin. "Thank you, Jackson. I appreciate it."
Now to convince my dad to go to rehab.
Jackson pushes aside some papers lying on the desk beside him. "I lost my dad a year ago. Heart attack."
My face falls. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, he was a good one. Pretty healthy too. Guess you never know." He shrugs and stands up. "If you go back up front, I'll have one of my officers bring your dad out."
I extend a hand. "Thanks again, man. Really. I'm a doctor now. An oncologist. Please let me know if you ever need anything. If I can't help you, I'll find someone who can."
I owe Jackson big-time. He accepts my offer with a nod, we shake and part ways. I'm a few feet from his desk when his voice rings out behind me. "Owen, did you and Autumn Cummings ever get married? You two were inseparable."
A few months ago, my answer would've been completely different than it is tonight. I grin and say, "We parted ways for a while, but we're back together now."
He returns the smile, genuinely happy. "That's great, man. Good for you guys."
I continue on to the front where I came in, rejoining the surly desk guy. When my dad comes out, he appears sober. Scared straight, I suppose.
"Owen," he greets me, ducking his head.
I can't handle seeing him this way. Standing in the front of a police station, ashamed and a hairsbreadth from having a DUI.
Placing a hand on his shoulder, I steer him towards the door. "Come on, Dad. I'll take you home."
We don't talk on the drive. What is there to say? I feel like yelling, but I can't, because he's not a child and I don’t have the energy. As I pull into the driveway, I put it in park but keep the car running.
My dad meets my gaze in the dim outdoor lights affixed to the front of the house. Taking a deep breath, I tell him, "You're going to a treatment facility somewhere. I don't know where yet."
Dad's eyes widen. "Treatment? Owen, this was a huge mistake, I'll give you that, but I don't need that kind of help. I just need to cut back a little."
My head shakes slowly back and forth. "I made a deal with the cops, Dad. They won't give you a DUI if I get professional help for you."
He frowns and looks out the windshield. The hum of the engine becomes the only sound in the car.
“You’re. Going. To. Treatment.” My voice is stern and it kills me that I’m the parent now, that I have no parent left to lean on.
After a full minute, he sighs. “Fine.”
Reaching out, he opens the passenger door and sticks one leg out. He uses two hands to haul himself from the seat, not because he is still drunk, but because he is getting older. My heart, already shattered by what's happening to Faith, breaks just a little more.
My dad doesn't say anything more. He walks, slow and steady, to his front door and goes inside. After allowing myself a moment to grieve the loss of the dad I once knew, I drive back to Autumn's house. I undress and crawl into her bed, and it's almost as if that middle-of-the-night call never came.
I pull her sleepy, warm body in close to me and nuzzle my face into her neck.
She knows what I need. Her legs part, and I settle between them. She kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my neck, sweet and soft kisses.
Earlier tonight, she needed to fall apart to forget her mom.
Now, I need to lose myself in her to forget my dad.
