Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“Does he?” Weaver asks, his voice cooling. “Or does he just love that his father still pays his bills?”
I bristle. “Stop. My dad loves Gramps. He does. Truly.”
“Last night you were talking about how much more you were able to save for your grandfather’s retirement because you stayed in Sea Breeze and sacrificed your chance to go to college. I’m sure your grandfather would have been able to save just as much by simply cutting your father off. Leon is a grown man and should be paying his own way, not cannibalizing his daughter’s future and his father’s golden years.”
I exhale and wrap the foil back around my sandwich. It’s actually delicious, but my appetite is gone. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“You don’t want to talk about it? Or you don’t want to admit to yourself that for your entire life, your family has been putting your welfare last, when it should have been first?”
I huff and shake my head. “Why should it be first? Because I’m young? Family is family. We all help each other and—”
“Because you’re the only innocent person in the situation,” Weaver cuts in, his tone still calm, but the words making my blood boil all the same. “You did nothing wrong. You aren’t an alcoholic, and you didn’t decide to enable an alcoholic at the cost of your own livelihood. You were a child born into a dysfunctional situation, but instead of doing everything they could to get you out, your family is doing their best to suck you down with them.”
My cheeks burning, I shoot back, “So, what should we have done? Let Dad starve and die?”
“Maybe,” Weaver says, making me flinch. “If that was the only way to keep the rest of you safe. Paying for rehab or some form of treatment is one thing, something I would personally support. But paying his bills while he sits around getting drunk and destroying himself? How is that helping anyone? Even him? But especially you, the daughter he should be taking care of?”
I rub at the tight place in my jaw, hating that a part of me agrees with him. “You don’t understand. You don’t have a family like mine. We help each other. It’s what we do.”
“Like I said, the situation doesn’t seem ‘helpful’ to me. Not to anyone. Your father is drowning, but instead of reaching for a life preserver, he’s wrapped his arms around his father and his daughter. You’ve been treading water as hard as you could with dead weight hanging from your shoulders, but it’s time to stop, Sully. For yourself and for your grandfather. Think how much less he’ll need to live on if he cuts your dad off and focuses on taking care of himself?”
“I can’t think about this now,” I say, digging my fingers into my temples. I never get headaches, but right now an ugly one is clawing into my skull. “And you can’t come in to the hospital. That’s final.”
He sighs, as frustrated as I am.
Maybe more so, since he clearly doesn’t understand why what he’s suggesting would be so hard.
I love my dad, really love him, no matter how many times he’s let me down or how strained our relationship has become over the years. I still remember the way he’d push me on the swings as a kid, the way he’d buy me a snow cone from the cart on the pier or a stuffed animal from the toy store, even when Mom said we needed to save money. I remember lying on his strong chest in the sun on the beach when I was so tiny that my hair was still white as it blew around my face, feeling so safe and loved because my daddy was there to take my nap with me.
Those things are still true and real. They live inside me even though that version of my father is gone, probably forever.
But I can’t turn my back on the man in that memory. It would be like setting the last of the goodness between us on fire.
The fact that Weaver can’t understand that makes me wonder if we’re really meant for each other, after all. I mean, I knew he didn’t have a good relationship with most of his family, but isn’t there anyone he would go that extra mile for? One person he would help no matter what? No matter how many times they failed to rise to the occasion and needed his help again?
I’m about to ask him when he says, “What if I stay in the cafeteria? I’ll grab a cup of coffee, find a dark corner, and keep my hat pulled down low. Then, if you need me, you can text, and we’ll find somewhere private to meet. I don’t want to leave you there alone. I should have thought of that before I offered my unsolicited advice at a difficult time.”