Her eyes search mine. “He and Aiden were here last week. I take it you haven’t spoken to him?”
I toss my hair behind my shoulders. “Not in eight years.”
Instead of responding she smiles, gives me another hug, and walks away as our waitress brings our food. Jeremy picks up his fork and smooths out the dollop of butter on his pancakes and his eyes keep darting over to me and then back on his food.
“What?” I ask.
He drops his fork like he’s pissed. “You know he’ll be there tomorrow, right?”
My eyes roll. “I’m not an idiot. What do you think I’ve been stressing over?”
His head shakes before he goes back to eating. Yet, I can feel his judgement. My brother and dad don’t know everything about me since I left, and right now, maybe that’s a good thing.
After eating a few minutes in silence, he starts up again.
“Listen, I know the history between you two. You left him and he’s never gotten over you, but it’s Damon’s wedding. So, try to be civil.”
Wait, how does he know he’s not over me?
I grab two twenties from my purse and put it on the table as I stand. “I’m ready to go see Dad.”
Civil?The whole ride over I think about that. Does he think I’m going to cause a scene? Not knowing what he meant by that is irritating the fuck out of me. Sure, we broke up but we are both adults.
The tires crunch on the gravel leading up to his driveway, alerting him of our arrival. The front door opens and when he sees me, a smile shows. It’s been too damn long. His hair, what he has left, is white and it looks like he’s lost some weight. He’s never been much of a cook and when mom died, it was up to me to step in. I’m hoping Jeremy has been helping out in my absence.
“Let me take a look at ya,” he says, pushing me back a bit. “Gosh, you’ve grown, sweetie.”
A single tear falls and I try to gain my composure. There are so many reasons I haven’t been back to visit, but those are years I’ll never get back with him. This man took me into his home and never gave up on me. Yet, I took off and never came back. My chest becomes tight around that thought.
Jeremy and I follow him inside where he starts a pot of coffee. It’s his typical morning, and he seems to have just gotten up, still in his plaid pajamas. I take the time to browse the array of old family pictures, and the many wonderful holidays I spent in this house. The kitchen has been changed, and an island put in. Why would he do that? It’s not like he cooks very often. His version of cooking is throwing something in the microwave, or a premade meal into the oven.
Dad cruises into the living room, and sits down in his recliner. I know he must have so many questions even though we talk on the phone regularly.
“How’s Roger doing?” he asks.
I shut my eyes. “We’re divorced. What about him?” My ex-husband never met my father and honestly, I’m glad. That piece of shit can rot in hell with his assistant for all I care.
“I-,” he struggles, running his hand over his head. “Divorced?”
Jeremy looks over at me and then back to him. “It’s okay. Remember the doctor said this is going to happen.”
“What doctor?” I ask, my gaze going back and forth between my dad and Jeremy. “What’s going on?”
My dad’s demeanor changes almost like he is afraid of himself.
“So, I guess we should talk,” Jeremy says. “Let’s go fix us a cup of coffee.”
Before I go into the kitchen, my palm is resting on dad’s shoulder, and I give him a quick kiss on the forehead. “It’s okay. Do you want some coffee?”
“Yes, black please.”
Jeremy is leaning against the granite countertop with his hands folded against his chest.
Honestly, I want to slam his head into the cabinet, but I don't. What the hell is he keeping from me? And why?
“Spill. What the hell is going on?” My voice jumps up a couple octaves.
“Dad has Alzheimer’s,” he pauses for a moment. “Found out about five months ago. He’s gotten worse in the last two months. It started where he couldn’t recall recent stuff, like if he ate and now as you can see, it's affecting his memory.”