Bonus Epilogue
Matt
I open the glove box, and pull the small notebook out, telling myself it’s the last time even though I know, it’s probably not. Fuck. I had every chance, every opportunity, every advantage (like this little notebook) and I still couldn’t close on Britain Palomino.
I guess the fact that I still refer to her like a business deal is partly the reason why.
I didn’t expect to ever have feelings for her. I thought it was all business. I was doing what was right for my family, keeping the business in Scala hands. I thought I was doing what my dad had always wanted of me by taking care of her. I thought, if I could do this one thing, he’d be proud.
The jokes on me though. Britain was beyond what I’d bargained for. She was more. So much more. She was pretty, even though I’d had prettier, but she was also smart, and kind. Humble and empathetic. She loved me more than anyone had ever loved me before. And I loved that.
I think above all else, I loved her loving me.
The door opening to the hospital draws my attention away from the notebook in the palm of my hand to see my dad walking across the parking lot…beside Alex Palomino. I try not to let it get to me, but it does. He loves Britain and Alex like they’re his own. I’m his own. I’m his only own, yet he never ceases to split himself amongst my brothers and Georgia’s kids like they belong to each other.
I watch as Alex and Constantine embrace, my dad giving him a firm pat on the back and then moving closer to our parking spot. I don’t miss the way Alex glares at me as he walks by. But he doesn’t stop, doesn’t say anything, he just heads straight past us as Constantine opens the door, pulling himself up into the car a bit more slowly than I’m used to.
That’s another thing. Everyone else gets to see the strong, happy, healthy Constantine while I get the other version. He lets his guard down with me. He moves slower. He lets me see the illness eating away at his insides.
“Why do you have that, Matt?” My dad asks without an ounce of warmth or kindness to his voice. I’d been so busy watching Alex, I forgot to put it back away. We both look down at the small notebook in hand and I’m too stunned to say anything for a moment.
“I’ll take that back now,” Constanine says, extending a hand towards me, waiting for me to place it in his palm.
Like a nail in my coffin, I relinquish the last scrap of Britain I had left and place the notebook in my dad’s waiting hand. It’s probably for the best.
“How long?” I knew he’d ask. He’s always been keenly perceptive.
“Since the first time I met her.” I don’t bother to lie. My dad knows who I am. He knows what I am. More than anything, he knows I’m not like him. I’m like her. Julie.
He shakes his head in disapproval. The sight is like needles to my eyes. Just another way I’ll disappoint him.
“Dad,-” I start, but he quickly ends it.
“Don’t. There’s no point in it now. I’m just glad to have it back.” He looks straight ahead, waiting for me.
“How long until your treatment?”
“We’ve got about an hour, let’s get something to eat, alright?” I nod, starting the car, and heading towards the exit. When we get to the stop sign, I just sit there and wonder. How many more days will we spend at the hospital? How many more times will I bring him here? How many more lunches will we get to share together?
“Dad,” I say, looking at him. “I’m sorry.”
He turns, giving me his full attention. “You’re saying sorry to the wrong person.” Tears rim my eyes. “I don’t need you to be sorry, to me. I need you to be better. Understand?” I nod, but don’t verbally respond.
He leans forward placing a hand around my neck, pulling me into him and I meet him halfway. He presses his forehead against mine and says, “Listen, son. There is nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you. Nothing. I’ll always be proud to call you mine.” Fuck.
Maybe someday, I’ll be a fraction of the man he is. Until then, I’ll take one step at a time. Making amends where I can, and hopefully in time, I can make him proud once and for all.