“Sorry. My name is Alexio.” The name was familiar, but I knew about four guys named Alexio between the NHL and the PPHL, so that didn’t narrow things down. “I’m calling on behalf of my brother, Nikos. I’m not sure if your father ever mentioned him…”
I groaned loudly, unable to stop myself. It was rude, but my reaction was so fucking visceral and unable to be helped. “I haven’t talked to my dad in about a hundred years. So if you’re calling me because he owes you money and he said I’d pay it…”
“No, no,” Alexio said quickly. He had a smile in his voice, but it didn’t last. “Nothing like that, I promise. He comes to my brother’s shop sometimes, but I think today might be one of his…bad days.” He hesitated over the last two words.
“Bad days?”
“Yes. I know he’s…well. At his age, he struggles. Nikos said he thinks he might be having a harder day than usual,” Alexio said, softer this time. “I would take him home myself, but I was just on my way out to a meeting, and I don’t have the time to get him back to his place.”
“Hold your—” I stopped myself from telling this total stranger to hold his balls. Ford would have been so proud. “Hold on.” I rubbed at my eyelids. “What do you mean by any of that?”
Alexio was quiet for a moment. “Well, I’m not sure what his caregiver tells you about us. Honestly, I’ve never met them, so I’m not even sure if they know where he spends his afternoons.”
Fuuuuuck my life. I needed to call my mom. She was the one who was meant to be handling all of this. I had no idea why he was calling me, of all people. Surely my dad had other contacts who would be better than the son who was no longer speaking to him.
“Listen, uh…can you do me a favor and text me the location of the shop? I’m going to try and get ahold of my mother to get him.”
“Of course,” Alexio said.
I knew I should probably ask what kind of hard day my dad was having, but I was struggling to give a shit after everything. “Thanks for keeping an eye on him,” I said.
“It’s always my pleasure.”
Wow. Okay, I really liked his voice. He seemed genuinely kind, which probably meant he didn’t deserve having my dad disrupt his entire day. And yeah, I didn’t need to be focusing on that, of all things. Not right now, anyway.
“I’ll, uh…see you soon.” I hung up before I said anything I regretted, then leaned my head against the wall and sighed.
A moment later, my phone buzzed with the pin, and I tapped the screen and scrolled until the voice read out the location. This was the last thing I wanted to do, but what choice did I have?
“Contacts. Mom.”
The phone buzzed against my fingers with the haptic feedback as I double-tapped on her name, then pressed it to my ear, waiting with my stomach in my throat.
“The subscriber you’re trying to reach is currently out of service…”
“Oh, what the fuck?” I demanded at my phone, as though the robot could give me answers. I hung up, then tried again, but the message was the same.
God, no. No. She couldn’t have just gone, could she?
But…oh fuck, she did. Of fuckingcourseshe did.
My fingers were shaking as I started to tap on Micah’s contact, but then I stopped myself. I scrolled up to Caleb, but I realized I couldn’t burden him with this either. This was my issue. I’d allowed this to go on for so long, and I couldn’t ask them to give up the boundaries they’d set all because I didn’t feel like dealing with the mess.
Squeezing my eyelids so tight I could feel pressure in my forehead, I scrolled through my apps, then double-tapped on Uber. I had to solve this problem. As much as I wanted to turn and run.
Tucker was irritated with me for taking off, but I promised to be back well before the game, and I knew that I would always be the golden child on the team while he was coaching. The ride over to the little shop Alexio had sent me was only a few minutes long, but it felt like an eternity until the driver was pulling up to the curb.
“Do you, uh…like.” The man went quiet, and I let him stew, even though I knew what he was trying to ask. “Should I help you or lead you somewhere?”
“I’m good.” Normally, I asked drivers to point me in the direction I wanted to go, but this poor bastard seemed like hewas going to throw up in his own lap if I did, and I wasn’t in the mood to smell vomit.
Pushing the door open, I found the curb with the tip of my cane, then pulled out my phone and used my SeeingEye app to read out the shop names until I found the little kebab place where my dad had apparently started hanging out every afternoon.
It was not anywhere I expected him to go, even with his growing dementia. He was super white, small-town Canadian, born and bred. He thought paprika was too spicy and folk music was too modern. But I wasn’t going to pretend like I understood his fading mind.
I made my way across the pavement, and my cane hit the door. It took a moment for me to find the handle, and then I stepped in and was immediately surrounded by fragrant spices. I could hear something sizzling on a cooktop nearby, and I bit my lip, trying to decide how I wanted to handle this.
I was a creature of habit by necessity more than nature. When I was a kid, I had no problems bashing around, learning my way around strange places by touch alone. Back then, I didn’t give one iota of a fuck whether or not I messed up a display stand or knocked shit over.
