3. Marcus
3
Marcus
“Come on, Marcus, sit down,” my dad urges gently when I don’t move. “I can’t keep this to myself any longer.”
“What is it?” I ask, my voice coming out in a soft croak, nervous flutters filling my stomach.
“Sit.”
Moving across the plush living room carpet, I peer down at him, noticing that he looks thinner, his cheeks slightly gaunt, his eyes tired. They even appear… yellow? His chest bounces more rapidly than usual. The signs are right there. He’s definitely not well.
It has been three months since I last saw him, since he’s now retired and living in San Diego where he grew up. With the demands of my job and life overall, I’ve been settling for weekly phone calls.
“What’s going on, Dad?” I ask, worry rising inside me. Ignoring the seat on the couch, I squat in front of him, resting my hands on his knees.
Dad shakes his head with a weary sigh. My heart falls.
My father has only been ill once in his life and it scared the shit out of me. I thought I would lose him, the only family I have. It has only been us since my mother left us when I was a kid. I couldn’t imagine life without him then, and I sure as hell can’t imagine it now.
Whatever it is, he’ll recover, just like he did the last time.
“It’s not your kidney again, is it?” I ask.
Again, he shakes his head. “Arnold’s kidney is still as good as new.”
He’s referring to the kidney his best friend Arnold—my ex’s dad— donated five years ago.
“For now,” he continues.
“What does that mean?”
He pats the space on the couch beside him. “You’re going to need to sit for this one.”
Fuck, I don’t scare easily, but right now, I’m quaking in these socks. Nausea rolls on my stomach as I sit beside him. He takes my hand and gently squeezes.
“I love you, son.”
My heart squeezes in my chest. I put my hand over his. “I love you too, Dad.”
A gentle sigh leaves his mouth. “There’s no easy way to say this… I’m dying, Marcus.”
My breath pauses. I could sense the news coming, but it still steals my breath.
My joy.
My thoughts.
Everything.
“It’s prostate cancer.”
“ Christ ,” I mutter, the nausea getting worse.
“I found out five months ago—”
“Seriously?” I twist on the seat to gape at him. “And you’re only telling me now? ”
“You had a lot going on, and I didn’t want to disturb you. I thought I had more time, but after speaking to the urologist a week ago, I now know that’s not the case.”
“What does mean?” I ask, bewildered.
Dad stares at his hands on his lap for a long moment, and I’m not sure I’m breathing right. “Dr. Vankirk estimates I have two years to live. It could be more or less,” he finally mutters.
“Oh, hell no.” I fly to my meet. “ No, no, no. I won’t accept that. There must be something more we can do!”
He stands with me, smiling softly. “I’m sixty-five years old, son. I’ve lived. I’ll have no problems moving on when it’s time. My only concern is you.”
“ Me ?” I stare at him like he’s gone crazy. “You’re dying, and your only concern is me?”
“Yes.” Still with that soft smile, he rests both hands on my shoulders. “You’ve lost your way, and I’m worried you won’t find your way back. At least, I fear I won’t live long enough to see it.”
“Dad, I’m not lost.” I take his hands off me, staring at him earnestly as I squeeze them. “You’re the one who needs attention, not me. Listen, I’m going to call the Cains. They know the best the doctors around—”
“No,” he interrupts, sounding firm for the first time tonight. “You can’t tell anyone. Not right now.”
“Why? Dad, the Cains are like family. They’ve been there for us since she left. Don’t you think they deserve to know?”
“Yes, but not right now.” He sighs warily and sits down again. “I need more time to process before all the excitement. Besides, Dr. Vankirk is one of the best on this side of the world. He’s going to do his best.”
His explanation sounds plausible, but the flash of wariness in his eyes makes me wonder if there’s something more behind it. Could there be another reason he doesn’t want anyone else to know ?
“There’s something I need, Marcus,” he goes on.
“Of course, Dad. You don’t even need to ask,” I reply without hesitation. Usually, I send him a hefty allowance each month, but he’s going to need so much more than that. “Just send me the medical bills and I’ll transfer the fees.”
He smiles. “This isn’t about money. It’s about something I’ve been longing for.”
“Okay…”
His smile widens. “Grandkids, Marcus. I need at least one before I die.”
A snort flies through my nose. I search his face for a sign that he’s messing with me. In the past, he’d often pester me about settling down, but never once did I expect it would lead to this.
“In case you missed it, I’m not in a relationship,” I point out.
“I know.”
“Which means it’s not possible to give you grandkids.”
Dad cocks his head. “It’s not?”
He’s way too calm after making such a mind-jarring request, which frustrates me a little. It’s like giving someone a basket to carry water.
“The last time I checked, you’re not an advocate of having kids out of wedlock, which means you expect me to find a woman, fall in love, get married, and have a child within two years —”
“Or less,” he replies, still calm.
“Dad, that’s crazy. Impossible.”
“Not if it’s someone you already know.”
I laugh out loud. “Why do you think I haven’t brought a woman home to meet you in the last five years?”
He narrows his eyes at me. “I’m not living under a rock, Marcus. You try to be respectful with your doings, but I’m not blind. I know.”
“Good. So you know there’s no one suitable for that particular purpose. ”
“Not true.”
“Dad.” I scoff. “I’ve been with women who are beautiful as hell, but I didn’t see any of them as wife material.”
“Except one.”
My brows lift. “Huh?”
“And you already brought her home to meet me, remember? In fact, I recall you being very much in love with her.”
Dad’s knowing smile meets my shocked face.
“This is a joke, right?” I half-chuckle. “You’re trying to distract me from what’s happening to you.”
“Oh, I wish,” he replies.
Is he for real? “I can’t marry Harper.”
“Of course, you can,” he replies patiently.
“She’s my ex for a reason, Dad. We didn’t work out then, and we sure won’t work out now.”
“I understand the long distance made things difficult for you two back then, but I’m sure the fire won’t be hard to rekindle if you’re living under the same roof,” he counters.
I swallow down a frustrated retort, marching across the open concept space into the kitchen. How do I explain to him that the distance had nothing to do with our breakup? Harper is the daughter of his best friend Arnold, a man he’d known since high school. All this time, I’ve been careful to protect her image so as not to cause bad blood between them. Despite Harper not deserving it, I’d like to keep things that way.
“Do you want anything to drink?” I call out to him.
“Water is fine,” he replies.
I grab one for myself and make my way back to him. “If you’re interested in having grandkids, I could always find a surrogate,” I suggest, handing him his bottle .
Dad snorts. “Why would you get a surrogate when there’s a perfect woman waiting for you?”
Oh, Harper’s definitely not waiting on anything. Patience has never been her virtue. She’s certainly not perfect either.
I rejoin him on the couch. “I’m going to humor you for a hot minute. Let’s say I’m interested in rekindling things with Harper. What if she’s already with someone? I don’t break up happy homes, Dad.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to. You won’t be breaking up a happy home, though. Harper’s not seeing anyone.”
My brain processes that information as a chill runs up my spine. I keep my expression clear as I ask, “How do you know that?”
“She moved back to New York recently,” he explains, and the chill spreads to my entire body, leaving goosebumps on my skin. “She’s staying with Arnold.”
“I see.”
We sit in silence for a long beat. I lean against the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling fan overhead while trying to decipher how I feel about this shocking news. If I was a betting man, I’d lose every single dollar in my bank accounts, because I swore I’d never see Harper again. Well, she’d made that abundantly clear when last I saw her six years ago, on the worst night of my life.
“That’s my only wish, Marcus. I want you to rekindle things with Harper. Marry her. Give me one grandchild before I die,” Dad requests softly.
“Why her, though?” I tear my eyes from the fan to look at him. “I could hire a surrogate if you want a grandkid that badly.”
“No. It has to be Harper.”
“Because?” I press, sitting up straighter. His voice sounded way too commanding just now .
“Can you think of someone better to spend your life with?” he asks. “You’ve known her since you were babies. She was the love of your life at one point. She’s beautiful, smart, comes from a decent family. What more could you ask for?”
He’s right; Harper does possess those qualities, but he’s got that look in his eyes again. For some reason, I can’t shake the awful suspicion that his desire for me to marry Harper has nothing to do with getting grandkids.
There’s something he’s not telling me.