He was drunk, and tears welled up in his eyes. They were seated to sushi. The three of them.
“This is just what I’ve always wanted, but your mother never allowed. Dinner, with my littlest daughter.” “Dad, it wasn’t her,” she said. “After 13 I made decisions for myself in regards to time and how I spent it. It’s nice to see you, though. This is nice.”
“Do you have a new boyfriend yet?”
“No, that isn’t my priority right now, nobody gets me… and I need to get through school this time. Frank was a big detour in my life.”
“I’d fix myself up and find another man. That’s what I would do… if I were you.”
He had more to say, but the Japanese beer and her own escapist fantasies prevented her memory from telling me. I do know that later that night he advised her to switch from her family diner to Hooters, for income. “You’d make more there,” he’d said. A very genuine smile edged up his mustache.
He drove them home drunk that night. Wouldn’t allow her his keys. At the curb he accidentally kissed her lips. She had given him her cheek.
That night rekindled her deep disdain for the mustache. She didn’t take his calls for six months after that. I’m telling you this because my dear friend Rue was sad and borderline weepy yesterday. This isn’t like her. She is the most centered and vibrant person I know.
I knew her doctor had prescribed some medication, for the pain involved in a recent accident, but that began weeks ago. This lethargy, was due to more than simply that. I knew what nobody else (including her) knew she carried inside of her. It had been two years since her fathers death. I should have seen this coming. Her father died two years ago last night.
Rue should be celebrating.
I’m going to help her.
