Chapter 6
NICO
There’s a real spring in his step as my dad hops into my car.
‘Good evening?’ I ask.
He seems lighter somehow. I swear he shuts the passenger door with more care than usual.
He has had enough to drink that I’m driving, but not enough to seem drunk.
I wonder if he’s had enough to be honest with me, or if he’ll still keep his guard up.
He’s open enough about wanting to find someone, but he talks like we’re mates, a couple of lads; he doesn’t get into the details of how he feels.
Really feels. Because he hasn’t really had anyone special in his life since my mum died.
That’s why I’m so surprised to see him jumping in feet first with Chrissy.
I start the engine and set off while he looks back towards the house through the passenger window, as though there is still a chance of catching one last glimpse of the woman he has known for a day, but already seems to have fallen for.
‘It went well,’ he says simply.
I glance at him.
‘Well?’
‘Well,’ he replies.
‘That’s all you’re going to say?’ I ask with a laugh. ‘You have me pick you up from a hook-up, and all you’re going to say is “well”?’
‘I had a nice time.’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I gathered that from the look on your face.’
He turns to look at me.
‘What look?’
‘The one that says you’re about five minutes from giving me a lecture on how life is great, the birds are singing a little louder, the sky is a little more blue – that I should be more open to meeting people, blah blah blah.’
He laughs, like that is exactly where this is going.
The roads are quieter than they were when I arrived, now that the post-work rush has died down.
‘Want to stop somewhere and grab some dinner?’ I ask.
‘I thought you needed to be somewhere?’
‘Nah, I think Sammie needed some space after work,’ I reply. ‘She clearly wasn’t expecting to come home to a houseful.’
‘You couldn’t have charmed her for a bit longer?’
I laugh – assuming he’s joking.
‘Maybe I’m not as charming as you think,’ I reply.
‘Then you don’t take after your dad,’ he says confidently. ‘But okay, yeah, let’s grab something. Fancy a pizza?’
‘Always,’ I say, thinking about which way to head.
It’s summer – but English summer. I’m loving the lighter nights, the pops of sunshine, sleeping with the window open (although admittedly I do that in the winter too).
Plus, I’m a shorts kind of guy, so as soon as I think it’s warm enough (unless trousers are absolutely necessary) I pretty much live in shorts.
It will be the tail end of September before I can see that changing.
And yet… English summer isn’t the same as holiday summer, is it?
When winter was dragging into spring, all I was asking for was warmer days.
Now that they’re here, all I’m asking for is to go on holiday.
To be honest, I think the only thing that’s stopping me is my dad.
Not that he wouldn’t let me go – more that he would want to come with me.
I’ve experienced going on nights out with him – imagine a lads’ holiday!
I know without asking that none of my mates would be up for it, so it would be just me and Dad – Hank, should I say.
I’m not supposed to use the D-word when he’s in pulling mode.
‘It really was great, you know…’ he pipes up again.
‘Glad to hear it,’ I say – though I’m not. I’m happy he’s happy, of course, but he can spare me the details.
I indicate at a roundabout and keep my eyes on the road.
‘Chrissy is lovely. And that daughter of hers, she seems like a laugh. She’s single, you know…’
I laugh.
‘She didn’t seem like much of a laugh to me,’ I point out. ‘But I can definitely appreciate why she’s single. She’s not very friendly.’
‘Her mum says she’s been having trouble meeting the right men,’ he tells me, his tone hushed for no reason.
I can’t imagine Sammie being happy with her mum telling people that.
‘You don’t say stuff like that about me, do you?’
There’s a beat too many of silence.
‘Dad?’
‘Of course not,’ he insists. ‘I always tell everyone how popular you are with the ladies. All the girls…’
‘Wait, that doesn’t sound great either, does it?’
‘I’m just trying to be a good wingman, son,’ he tells me.
His intentions might be good but his execution is shocking.
‘Dad, we’ve been through this, I’m not looking to date anyone right now.’
‘I know, I know, you’ve got a job, you’re having some time to yourself – I’ve heard it before.’
He’s heard it before, he acknowledges that I want some time to myself, and yet he is always here – and even when he isn’t with me, he’s having me pick him up.
‘I’m just saying… she was great.’
‘Who?’ I ask.
He slaps me on the arm.
‘Chrissy – you clown.’
‘I know, I was joking,’ I tell him. ‘You’ve already said as much about ten times.’
That gets a laugh out of him, at least.
‘You’re not taking this seriously enough,’ he suggests.
‘Dad, I’m driving you home – drunk – from the house of a woman you met less than twenty-four hours ago – a woman you met at an over-fifties singles night. Do you even know her last name?’
I take my eyes from the road to glance at him for a second. I can tell by the look on his face that he doesn’t.
‘I’m treating this with the exact level of seriousness it deserves,’ I continue. ‘I’m happy for you, Dad, really, but you just met the woman.’
‘That’s a very cynical approach,’ he points out. ‘No wonder you’re single – no wonder I’m getting more female attention than you.’
He smiles again and looks back out of the window. There’s a contentment to him that I haven’t seen much lately, and it hasn’t been easy, seeing him so lonely. So while I maintain that I’m single by choice, I think I’ll let him have that one.
It’s been a few years since Mum passed away. I know how often I think of her, so it must be worse for him. Truthfully, I’m in awe because it must be so hard to get back out there and try to find love again after losing the person you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with.
I’m keeping an eye out for him, and I don’t want him falling for the first woman who shows him a bit of attention.
Yeah, Chrissy seems nice enough – her daughter aside – but she and Dad haven’t known each other for long enough to know if they’re a good fit yet.
Much as I hate the thought of my dad ‘having a bit of fun’ – even thinking the words is making me consider therapy – if that is all this is, then fine.
I just worry about him getting his heart broken, and not just for him, but for myself too, because I’ll be the person he wants to hang out with all the time if dating doesn’t seem like it’s for him, and as much as I want my own life back, if that’s what he wants, to hang out all the time, then I’ll do it, because he’s my dad, he’s lonely, and all of his mates still have their wives, they spend time with their families. The only person Dad has is me.
It’s sort of strange, seeing your dad being into a woman, when you’ve only ever known him be with your mum.
He worshipped my mum, really, he did, to the point where I think that any woman would be so lucky to have him.
Then again, I wonder if you can transfer that kind of love and devotion.
It would be different if they had got divorced.
The love would have ended, and a new kind of love would have started with someone else.
But when you lose someone, that love doesn’t simply stop, it doesn’t go away; it waits, and it hurts.
I still think of my mum all the time. I see things in the supermarket that I think she might like, or a funny dog video she would have laughed at, and all that love bubbles to the surface, but then it has nowhere to go.
It waits. Waits for someone who is never coming back.
I know, I sound miserable, but cut me some slack. I lost my mum, and I’m worried about my dad.
‘Be happy for me, lad,’ he says eventually.
‘I am happy for you,’ I insist. ‘And I’m being supportive.’
‘I know, and I appreciate it,’ he replies. ‘I know that this must be strange for you too. I just want to do right by you, and by your mum, and…’
His voice trails off.
‘Mum always said she wanted you to be happy,’ I remind him. ‘She said you were young, that you needed to keep living.’
‘I don’t feel young,’ he says. Then he thinks for a moment. ‘Well, I didn’t, until I spent time with Chrissy. As cliché as it sounds, she makes me feel young again.’
‘Dad, it’s okay, I get it,’ I tell him. ‘You want to spend time with her, that’s fine by me, I’m happy for you – just don’t expect me to be your taxi service.’
He laughs.
‘How the tables have turned, eh? I was always your taxi service. I never thought I’d see the day you were returning the favour.’
‘Yeah, well, like I said, don’t get used to it.’
‘I’ll always have time for you, you know,’ he reassures me.
‘I know that,’ I reply – I do, that’s half the problem. He has too much time for me at the moment.
‘In fact, I’ve got a few ideas of some things we can do, ways we can spend a bit of time together, if you fancy it?’
‘Sounds good,’ I reply.
I’m more than happy for him to spend time with whoever he wants, but I appreciate that he’s thinking of me, making an effort to spend time with me, not ditching me at the first sign of a woman. All the more reason why I want him to be truly happy.
‘Well, we’ll start with my buying you a pizza,’ he tells me. ‘And if I’m already tipsy, and I’ve got a designated driver, I might as well have a few beers, right?’
‘You might as well,’ I echo.
It is good to see him happy, and so long as he stays that way, he can do what he wants, he can like who he likes, he can see how things go.
If he wants to see Chrissy again, that’s great. He can go where he wants, when he wants, and – jokes aside – I’m even happy to drop him off and pick him up from time to time. That’s all completely fine… so long as I don’t have to spend time with her daughter. That’s where I draw the line.