36. Chapter 36 #2
“You hate him because you once loved him…” A shadow passed over her face. “D’you wanna remember today like this? Hiding like this?”
Julian’s face went as red as the tomato sauce on a plate that a waitress carried on her way to the dining room. “Annie. Don’t.”
“No, just listen. I’ve had the feeling something like this would happen. I know you’re not a coward, and I know you’ll hate yourself more than you hate him–”
He opened his mouth.
“–and at the very least, go lay down your boundaries once and for all. I guess that’s what I was trying to say before. Tell him enough is enough. He shouldn’t keep bothering you. And you don’t run away from a challenge, right? And you have to walk back out there anyways, right?”
They’d left his hat and Annie’s purse in the booth.
He stared at Annie and she stared right back, having now made her case and wrapped it up with a bow.
It made him angry, but he had no argument against her point on setting boundaries.
Would Clive stick around town? He had no idea.
But Julian had a feeling that even if Clive moved to another country, he’d still have to find a way to coexist with his father.
Maybe it was time to face what he didn't feel ready to look at.
He broke my old reality. I suppose I should set my new one right from the get-go before he breaks it, too.
Julian told Annie to wait in the truck for him once she got their food.
When he walked back into the dining room, the old folks were elbow deep in their gossip and sodas.
Every eye in the restaurant landed on him.
They seemed stunned he’d found the guts to approach the “old man.” Or perhaps, from the glances and the dip in conversation, they were simply making a collective mental record for the rest of the town to relive later.
Every footstep was torture.
For a moment, Clive was oblivious to the read of the room. His menu was gone. In its place, a dark soda and a glass of orange juice.
Julian stood at the end of his dad’s table, and the ghost of his past looked up.
Clive’s once solid, dark brown hair was clipped into a short cut that was probably a coupla-three weeks old.
The skin under his eyes was baggy, and a few age spots had appeared above his receded temples.
From the looks of it, the man had probably slept in his clothes.
His voice was hollow and worn when he nodded and said, “Julian.”
“Mmm-hmmm.” Julian thought about looming like that. But, he sat down. The shock on Clive’s face was almost worth it.
Almost.
He’d say his piece and get the hell out.
“Couldn’t wait to eat here,” Clive said, grinning. “We ate here every Sunday, remember? But I walked in an’ about thought, hell, I’m in the wrong place.”
You sure are.
Just then, Teagan arrived, balancing three full plates. An order of onion rings, a plate of pasta, and a bowl of clam chowder with the works.
“She’s still working on your fried steak.”
Clive nodded and tucked the cloth napkin into his rumpled shirt collar as Teagan left. “Good. No slop or chili in sight.” He chuckled to himself. “Y’know what that does to a man’s guts, right?”
“Uh, yeah.” The familiarity made Julian’s skin crawl. He tapped a finger on the table, trying to figure out how to start.
Clive reached for the salt, which was completely full. He tipped it over his pasta, and instead of shaking out a few flakes, the entire silver cap came off and pinged off the rim of the plate.
Julian blinked in disbelief. Someone stifled a laugh on the other side of the room.
Clive dropped his head. “I guess that about sums up my entire lunch,” he muttered, shuffling his plates around. He glanced up at Julian. “How you doing, Son?” He picked up his glass of orange juice and took a noisy sip.
“Fine enough… Look. I’m not here to chitchat.” It was time to rip off the bandaid. “Now that you’re back on the outside, there’s gonna be a few ground rules.”
Clive blinked and set his cup down. Hands then clasped under his chin, he stared at Julian and nodded. “Yes?”
Julian scratched the back of his head. Where to start… “I’ve got renters at the house.”
“I noticed.”
Julian hadn’t heard a peep from his tenants, so he assumed Clive had left them alone.
“I’m not kicking them out. So stay away.
I don’t know if they’re resigning this year.
Once they want to leave, you can do what you want it since it’s technically still in your name.
But they’re good people and don’t deserve to be kicked out onto the street.
” Julian knew he had no legal standing at all, but the mortgage had been paid off with the rent money, and a free house was far more than his father deserved. At least for now.
“Fine.”
“And stop sending me mail.”
“I sent you dozens of letters. I didn’t think you read them.”
“Some I read,” Julian muttered.
Clive raised an eyebrow. “So, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that I had a horrible time in prison.”
“It helps.” Julian glanced at the salty pasta.
His dad chuckled, like he was amused by a three-year-old’s streak of newfound independence. He then nodded for Julian to continue. “What else?”
“Pick a day when you’ll eat here and I’ll pick mine.”
Another nod. “Fine. It’s Tuesday, so Tuesdays. I’ll eat lunch.”
“Don’t come here on Fridays.” Julian leaned forward. “Are you gonna stick around Northgold?”
“If we’re divvying up days to eat here, I guess I am.”
Julian’s jaw ticked. He leveled his gaze. “Stay away from me and my girlfriend. If you see us around, don’t say hello, don’t wave. Just walk the other way.”
Clive blinked for a moment. “The girl you’re here with? That her?”
“Yes. Stay away from her.”
Clive rocked his jaw back and forth for a minute as if chewing on Julian’s demand. “Fine,” he said. “I hope she makes you happy.”
Julian steadied himself. This was really it. Laying down the law. So far, his dad had been cooperative, much to his relief. Perhaps Clive had changed in prison. “We want our space. After today. Leave us be.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice. I’ll stay out of your way,” his dad said.
Boundaries set, Julian felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Whether or not Clive kept his word was one thing, but the man seemed to have gotten the message.
“Kiddo, I can’t turn back the clock. I would.
If I could,” Clive went on before Julian could make his escape.
“In the eyes of the law, I’ve paid for what I done.
I’m just learning to forgive myself. And between me and God himself, that’s all that matters.
But in your eyes, I know I’ll never be forgiven.
I’m sorry I’m just your rotten father and that I’ve made you hate my guts so much. ”
If Clive was fishing for forgiveness, he wasn’t going to get it today. How dare he try to drag me into his pity party. Dry-mouthed and with sweaty palms, Julian muttered under his breath, “You’re a bastard.”
“That’s my truth. I was a bastard.” Clive took a sip of his juice. “Do you truly have a good life, Son?”
Julian grimaced, then nodded once.
Clive’s eyes narrowed, but the look in them shifted. They went glassy, and he wiped them quickly. “I’m glad.” He nodded approvingly, and his voice broke when he added, “Good. Keep things that way.”
Even though Julian felt jaded that this man was crying for him, and didn’t want Clive to feel anything for him, Julian could tell Clive was genuinely a miserable wreck.
At least at that moment.
“Honest,” Clive went on. “I really want you to know just how sorry I am, Julian. I can’t make excuses for the dirtbag I was…”
When Julian didn’t interrupt him, purely out of shock, Clive continued.
“I thought I was okay. Thought I had my shit together. It didn’t take long of sitting in a small cell with a cranky roommate and jumpy-as-fuck neighbors to realize I’d been a fool.
I’ll let you live yer life. But just so you know…
We’re not going to see eye to eye so long as you hate me, and I wish you didn’t.
But I’m your dad. If you need me, I’m here.
I can see that this right here’s coming from a place of integrity.
” Clive jabbed the tabletop with his pointer finger.
“You didn’t have to talk to me. But whatever ha ppens, I won’t forget today, Son.
” Clive extended a handshake across the table.
Julian’s gaze drifted to his dad’s weathered hand. After all the letters through the years, Julian knew this still wasn’t the apology he deserved– all wrapped up in a bow of self-pity and woe-is-me– but perhaps it was the only kind of apology Clive was capable of delivering.
Julian felt a twinge in his gut. For reasons he couldn’t explain that felt like…
enough. Their temporary reunion wouldn’t end in a hug or tearful reconciliation, as much as Clive probably wanted that, but the line had been drawn, and it wasn’t a complete insult for it to end with a commonplace handshake between two men, right?
So long as Clive seemed capable of respecting Julian’s wishes at present.
It felt more like striking a deal, rather than sitting and staring as the torch dropped and burned their familial bridge to ash.
Like two warfronts with a no man’s land that had been used for diplomacy rather than carnage.
Julian gripped his dad’s hand hard enough that he wondered if it hurt. He got the confirmation when Clive winced. “Mom wouldn’t have wanted me to waste my life. She wouldn’t want you to waste any more of yours. Make it count.”
Clive flinched, but when Julian let go of his hand, his expression was full of determination.
“Well… Dad, it’s Tuesday at lunch. And I’m not supposed to be here,” Julian said, flashing a sardonic smile — the only thing resembling neighborliness that he could muster up.
Clive smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Goodbye, Son.”
Julian quickly left the restaurant and found Annie waiting in his rig with their lunches and their pie. She’d started to eat her fries out of the styrofoam clamshell. He climbed into the driver’s seat .
She leaned on the center console. Her eyes were open, curious. “How’d it go—”
He held the sides of her face, kissing her long and hard. Every bit of turmoil that he’d kept inside for the last fifteen minutes finally caught up with him. His facade broke. When he pulled away, tears streamed down his face.
“W-what happened?”
Julian just shook his head. He put her lunch aside and held her hands. “I love you so much.”