Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Finn
“It’s a great place.” My father hands me the flyer and I lean back in the chair looking over the listed items. “The backyard is a nice size, the privacy fence is new. You could walk to the store, right out the back fence and less than a block to the left.”
“You should have become a realtor, Pop,” I tell him, smiling as I continue to look over the flyer.
“Nah.” He waves me off. “But Martin and Joyce are looking to downsize, and now that Melanie and Tim just had their first baby, they are wanting to be closer to their grandbabies.”
I nod.
“I can’t say I blame them. I’m wondering when the day may come that I might have some grandbabies of my own.”
“Now you sound like Ma.” I look up from the flyer. “Nagging about marriage and babies, you going soft on me?”
He chuckles and ignores my question.
“You can’t raise a family in the tiny little apartment above the bakery.”
“Gotta have a woman first, then I’ll be thinking about a place.”
“That place right there won’t last long,” he assures me.
He’s not lying. I remember walking Melanie home after our eighth grade winter fest dance and her father waiting on the porch.
We’d gone to the dance together as friends, our parents being close, we’d grown up together. It is a nice place, a good family home.
I look at the back, seeing for the first time in a long time a few pictures of the inside. Its original charms is still there, and I get all nostalgic as I scroll over each one.
“I know my illness has thrown a wrench in a lot of things, Finn.” I glance up to see my father now sitting up, watching me. I can see the emotional pain in his eyes. “I hate that you and your mother have pretty much had to halt your lives to take care of this sick old man.”
“Stop,” I tell him, feeling my chest grow tight.
“No, I need you to listen to me.” It irritates me when he acts like he is a burden. He is my father and I know if the tables were turned he’d do everything he could for me.
Clearing his throat, he continues. “My treatments are over, and when I go next week for my scans, we’ll know.
We go sit down with the doc, she’ll lay it all out.
What comes next, where we go from here, and all that.
But one thing is certain, one thing doesn’t change either way.
You are my son, and I love you, but you gotta let go of the hate you feel.
You need to let go of this anger you have, because it doesn’t change a thing.
The only thing it can change is the man you are.
That is the last thing I want. I need you to live, Finn.
I need you to stop putting everything on hold for me, because watching that, knowing it’s taking place, it breaks my heart. I need you to live.”
I look down at the flyer again, only this time I don’t truly see it. Instead I do all I can to fight the emotions coursing through me.
“So maybe I am going soft,” he adds with a chuckle and again I look up to find him casually leaning back against the couch cushions. “Maybe this illness has put things into perspective and reminded me of what is truly important. And maybe I’d like to see my son married with kids.” He shrugs.
I know everything he said is true, I haven’t denied to myself that I am not the same man I was before this started. I used to laugh a lot more.
“I hear ya,” I tell him, because it’s all I can manage. I can’t go deep, I will never get used to seeing my father emotional. It breaks me. “I’ll work on getting you those grandbabies.”
“Now don’t go running around town knocking up the first girl you can get your hands on,” he orders. “Find you a nice girl that ain’t gonna have your momma chasing after you with a stick, for giving her some wild daughter-in-law.”
“Alright, Pop.” I smile for the first since this conversation began.
“I’ll find a good one,” I assure him with a nod and instantly my mind falls to Sophie.
My heart races, and again I have to remind myself that crossing that line would most likely backfire.
We went into this as friends and in the end that friendship needs to remain.
Over the years she has become a big part of my life, all those girls have. The twelve of us are always with each other, leaning on one another whenever it is necessary. Each one of them brings something different that creates the perfect dynamic. It’s a scenario I can’t disrupt.
But even though I know this, I can’t keep my head from creating some illusions. One where she and I are cuddled on the couch, her belly swollen with our child as we talk about names.
I blame my father for throwing out the idea.
I blame him for the fact that now I can’t seem to remember that Sophie and I are nothing more than friends.