7.
Levi
I’d just gotten back from Privilege’s Monday nights No Xcuses and was thinking about maybe trying to get a little sleep when the phone rang. And by phone, I mean the landline that had originally been in the villa that we’d decided to keep because Alfie was horrible about remembering to charge his cell phone. I almost let it keep ringing, but then, at the last second, decided to pick it up. It could lead to something interesting. The last time I’d answered this phone on a whim, it had been a wrong number, but the caller had turned out to be the lovely Sonja, who I met up with later that day for a beach-side rendez-vous. I was tired, yes, but I certainly had enough left in me for another rendez-vous with a gorgeous woman if that’s what this was going to lead to.
“Hello?”
“Levi, is that you?” a male voice
demanded.
“It’s me,” I said uncertainly, my
brain frantically trying to place the voice. It’s hard to tell voices over the
phone in the first place, but I certainly knew this one.
“It’s Cal.”
My jaw dropped. How the ever-loving fuck did Cal get this number? I didn’t think they even knew about this place. But it was too late to hang up or to start saying no hablo ingles over and over again. I swallowed.
“Uh . . . hey there, Cal” I said. “Sure wasn’t expecting a call from you. How’d you get this number?”
“I tried calling your cell phone, probably a dozen times, but you didn’t pick up.”
“I left it at home; I didn’t have it on me. If I did, I certainly would’ve picked up if I’d known you were calling, Cal. What’s up?”
“What’s up is that I have some very bad news, Levi. Your father dead. He had a massive heart attack right before he left the office today. He was dead by the time the EMTs arrived; there was nothing anyone could do. I’m sorry.”
I could suddenly hear a high-pitched trill in my ears. “What?” I said.
“You heard me. Your father is dead. And you need to make arrangements to get on the next plane out of there and get back here to New York.”
“Is this a joke? I just called him the other night.”
“And did you speak to him?”
“No, he didn’t answer the phone, so I left him a voicemail. This is a joke, right? Dad’s just pissed at me that I came out here when he said he didn’t want me to and now you’re trying to get me to come back. And I’ll rush back there and once I walk in the door, there’ll be Dad, right? Right, Cal?”
Cal sighed. “No, Levi. This is not a joke. And your father is not going to be here when you get back, because he’s dead. Should I say it again, just so you can get it through your head? I wouldn’t joke about something like this; you should know that. Now, I don’t think I need to tell you again to either call Anders and see if he’s available or to buy yourself a plane ticket and fly commercial. Call me when you’re back in New York.”
“Okay,” I said, but he’d already hung up.
I hung up the phone and just stood there, replaying the conversation. My dad was dead? No fucking way. My dad wasn’t that old. He was in good health. Yeah, he might’ve had stress to deal with, but everyone did, right? And it didn’t kill us.
But I knew it wasn’t a joke.
A few minutes or a few hours might’ve passed; I wasn’t sure. I just stood there, the words Dad is dead? playing on repeat. It didn’t seem possible.
I called Alfie. “Hey, man,” I said. “Listen, I’m not going to be able to meet up later. I’ve got to get back to New York.”
“Huh?” Alfie said. “Where are you going? You just got here.”
“I know. My dad is dead,” I said. “I just found out. I have to go back to New York.”
“Aw, shit man, so sorry. I’d give you a hug if I was there in person. Really terrible news, mate. Is there anything I can do?”
“No, it’s cool, bro. I’ll be in touch.”
After I got off the phone with him, I called Anders. He was in Vermont with his wife; his daughter was about to give birth to their first grandchild.
“I just got the news about your father,” he said. “I’m really sorry, Levi. Listen, I can leave now and drive back to New York—”
“No, no,” I said. “You
don’t have to do that. I’ll just fly commercial back.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, of course. Don’t worry about it, okay?”
“If you’re sure,” he said, in such a way that made it sound as though he weren’t sure. Which I didn’t know how to take. Was he implying he didn’t think I could fly on a regular flight like anyone else? That was bullshit. After I got off the phone with him, I went online and bought myself a ticket back, flying coach, a middle seat toward the back of the plane.