Page 36 of The Write Track
“Sure, but not too long,” I replied. “I’m packing.”
“Oh?” Now he sounded interested. “Are you finally moving to the city? That’s great.”
The city.There was only one city he could mean by that. New York City. The city was as much of a part of him as his fancy-schmancy degree and architectural business.
“No,” I replied. I no longer braced myself for his disappointment. It didn’t matter. The only reason I hadn’t gone no-contact with him was because, if my mother had been alive, it would have made her sad. On her deathbed, she’d insisted that there would come a time when I’d realize my father was a good person with a few rough edges. She’d always made excuses for him. I would never do it again. I did keep up contact for her sake, though. I just didn’t get emotionally invested.
“I just bought a house in Savannah,” I replied. “The Landings.” Why did I throw in that last part? I couldn’t be sure. I had a sneaking suspicion it was because I knew what his response would be.
“Oh, I’ve heard of that. At least if you’re going to stay down there, you’re going with a quality place. I’ve heard good things.”
And there it was. I knew he would appreciate the fact that I’d chosen The Landings. I wanted to scream that I didn’t do it for him, but I didn’t. Instead, I said what I knew would irritate him.
“I have friends here. It seemed like the thing to do.”
“Well, why you did it isn’t important. It’s a good choice.”
Silence.
“Did you need something specific?” I prodded when the quiet became annoyingly awkward.
“I’m just curious what you’re packing for if it’s not a move. A work trip? North, perhaps?” He sounded weirdly excited at the prospect.
“No. Actually, it is a work thing, but it’s a writer event. We’re going to a retreat at a campground.” I grimaced at the word. My father was not going to appreciate hearing about a writer’s retreat. That was not real work in his book.
“I see.” His voice was laced with disdain. “Well, that sounds fun.”
“I’m really looking forward to it,” I lied.
“How long will you be there? I was thinking, perhaps, I can come to visit you.”
The silence that followed was deafening. “Um… you want to visit me?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. You’re my son. It’s not as if you visit me. I guess I’m going to have to be the one to make time in my schedule.”
He left off ‘even though you spend all your time futzing around with your computer and I have a big, important job.’
“I’m not sure if I’ll have time in the next few weeks,” I replied. “I have a lot of events scheduled.”I’m also secretly in a relationship, not that you’ll ever know about that.“Maybe in the fall or something.”
“Nathan, I would like to get down there before then.”
“Well, I’m not sure when I’ll have time. Let me check the schedule, and I’ll get back to you when I have an opening. You’re just looking for one day, right?”
“I was thinking maybe a week.”
I almost fell off a cliff. “A week?” All the time we’d spent together since my mother’s death didn’t equate to a full week. “What’s going on?”
Suddenly, he sounded defensive. “What makes you think something is going on?”
“You’ve never wanted to spend a week with me before.”
“Don’t be melodramatic. Of course I have.”
“No, you haven’t.” If he wanted to lie to himself, that was on him. I was not going to sit here and listen to him lie to me, though. “Not ever.”
“Well, things change.”
“And what’s changed this time?”
