TWENTY-SIX
I WOKE WITH A START, the blanket sliding down my chest and letting the frigid air of the room hit me like a block of ice.
Sitting up, I blinked until the small room became clear. It was still dark, and I rubbed my eyes to clear my sleepy haze.
I wasn’t sure what woke me, but I was left with an uneasy feeling as I listened to my surroundings.
The room was quiet … too quiet.
I missed the obnoxious hum of the heater running throughout our apartment. It had finally given out on us after having survived two decades with Clive.
We were left to survive with small portable heaters and the gas stove until we could get a new unit put in.
The end of the year wasn’t a busy time for Mike’s. Most of our regulars were off enjoying the holidays with their families instead of getting sloshed at the bar, so it would be at least a month before we could afford a new unit with the bills piling up.
I wasn’t worried about me. I could handle the cold conditions. I had lived through far worse before I met Clive. But I was worried about him.
From the couch, I could hear him coughing, the hard, strangled sound echoing throughout his room and working its way out into the hallway.
I shivered, realizing that apartment was at least a couple of degrees colder than it was before we went to bed. Noting that the small heater next to the couch was off, I grumbled to myself, knowing we had once again blown the breaker.
It was like the tenth time in the past three days, and it was annoying as fuck.
The quick drop in temperature in the city, along with the unit going out, had resulted in a cold for Clive. He swore he was fine, but his cough wasn’t getting any better. I was starting to get anxious it would turn into something worse, but getting him to agree to go see a doctor was next to impossible.
Clive was my father—I had the paperwork to prove it—and I worried about him as a son would. I owed him more than I would ever be able to repay him. And if getting up to flip on the breaker was all I had to do to give him comfort, then I was doing it.
The floor was freezing, and my breath hissed from between my teeth when my bare feet touched it. I moved through the darkness toward the breaker box and flipped the switch until there was a low buzz, and the small heater beside the couch lit up.
Making my way down the narrow hallway, I stopped at Clive’s door. It wasn’t shut completely, and I stood there listening to Clive’s shallow breathing. The hoarse sound made a knot form in the pit of my stomach.
Pushing the door open, I stepped inside the room. It was colder inside his room than the entire apartment, and I shivered.
“Shit,” I cursed.
How long had the fucking power been off?
I made my way toward the small heater next to his bed. It hadn’t turned on automatically as mine had, and I cursed again. Some nights, Clive would just fall into bed without turning it on, and it had been one of those nights. No wonder his room felt like the North Pole.
I made a mental note to make sure he turned it on every night from then on. The last thing Clive would want was to feel like he was being babysat, but that was too damn bad.
I turned on the heater, but five minutes later, the room still wasn’t warm enough. Making my way back into the living room, I pulled the plug from the wall to the heater by the couch, ignoring the spark as the plug came free.
Back in Clive’s room, I plugged it in and turned it on high. After twenty minutes, the room felt like a small tropical island. I was satisfied, so I pulled the door closed. Before heading back into the living room, I grabbed another blanket from the hall closet and settled back on the couch. Under a mountain of four blankets, I finally started to get warm.
Sleep quickly claimed my warm body, but not long after, I was being woken up by Clive in the kitchen only a few feet away. Pans clanged together, and the water was running. He stomped around, making the apartment feel as though it was shaking. There was no way I could sleep through that.
“Are you trying to wake the entire neighborhood or is all that noise special just for me? What time is it anyway?”
Twisting, I reached for the alarm clock above my head. The time read twelve, but it was blinking, and I remembered that the power had gone out and reset the clock. Putting it back, I threw my long legs over the couch, and my foot hit the heater that was now back next to the couch.
“What the hell are you doing sneaking into my room in the middle of the night?” Clive snapped.
He was usually a morning person, but someone had clearly woken up on the wrong side of the bed.
“I wouldn’t exactly call it sneaking, old man. The breaker flipped again, and I went in there to turn on your heater that you forgot to turn on before you went to bed. Your room was freezing, so I put mine in there, too.”
“It was like a freaking sauna in there this morning. I woke up in a puddle of sweat thanks to you.”
“You’re welcome,” I answered sarcastically.
I wanted to pull the blankets back up over my head and attempt to get another hour of sleep, but with Clive’s bad mood and all the noise he was making, I knew that wasn’t going to happen.
I got up and made my way down the hallway to get in a quick shower before I headed down to the bar, but apparently, Clive wasn’t done bitching.
“I didn’t ask for you to creep into my room in the dead of night and check on me so you can take—”
I slammed the bathroom door without bothering to listen to the end of his rant. He was being a damn baby, and I knew it was just better to ignore his whining. By the time I got downstairs, he would be over his attitude.
At least I hoped he would.
Thirty minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom, and Clive was gone. I knew he would be busy with getting the bar ready for open, and if I didn’t hurry and get my ass downstairs, I was only going to give him another reason to bitch.
When I reached the bottom step, I could hear the racket Clive was making in his office from across the bar. I moved in that direction, and as I got closer, I could see Clive bringing in a shipment of liquor. I picked up the pace so I could help him with the last few boxes, but before I could reach him, he did something that scared the shit out of me.
I stopped in my tracks and watched as a fit of coughs rattled his old body. He stopped, clutching the box in his arms as he lurched over. Soon, the coughing became too much, and the box tumbled from his grasp and crashed to the floor.
Using the doorframe as support, he clutched the wood to hold up his weak body while the fit of coughs shook him. Finally, they let up, and he was able to move away from the doorframe, but I didn’t miss the way his feeble body seemed slower. It was as if his health was declining right before my eyes.
At that moment, he saw me standing there watching. His eyes clashed with mine, and we stared each other down for a moment. The knot that had started to form in my stomach the night before grew into a dark fear—a fear that I had never known before.
He looked away, breaking our eye contact, and disappeared into the supply room.
I followed him in, and without a word from either of us, I started to help him unload. Once we finished unloading, I grabbed a mop and broom and began cleaning the broken bottles and wasted liquor from the floor where he had dropped the box.
I wanted to beg him to see a doctor, but I knew that would only make his mood worse. I needed to wait until the perfect time if I was going to get him to agree.
Clive was a proud man, and he wasn’t going to take my concern without a fight on his end. He didn’t like being fussed over, and he was definitely not going to like me questioning his health. But honestly, that was too damn bad.
It was his own fault I was so invested in whether he lived or died. He made the choice to take me in and make me a part of his family, which meant now he was stuck with me and my nagging. We had just become a family. I wasn’t about to lose that because he was too proud to take his ass to the doctor.
Later, after we had closed the bar and were upstairs in the apartment going through our nightly routine, Clive was drinking a beer and watching whatever had caught his attention on his tiny black and white TV, which annoyed the fuck out of me. Trying to watch my cartoons with no color was a bitch.
“I made a doctor’s appointment for next week,” he said without taking his eyes away from the screen.
His announcement took me by surprise. I had spent most of the night preparing myself for a fight. I expected a lot of screaming and cursing, but none of that was happening. Relief flooded my veins knowing he had taken the initiative to get himself checked out without me having to step in.
“You did?”
He scoffed at the TV, but he meant it for me. “Yes. If it will keep you out of my room at night, I figured I’d better make it soon.”
I grinned. “You’re a stubborn old man; you know that, don’t you?”
He shrugged and took a long swig from his beer. “I’ve been called worse.”
The following week, Clive stuck to his word and went to see the doctor. I wanted to go with him, but he wasn’t having it. I could have argued, but I knew it would be a waste of my breath. So I kept my mouth shut and waited patiently for him to return.
I was choosing to pick my battles when it came to him. Technically, I had already won since he was actually going to the doctor. I didn’t need to push my luck.
Two hours later, when he pushed through the bar entrance, I breathed a little easier. Up until that moment, he hadn’t gotten any better, but sending him off to the doctor alone had made me feel like I might never see him again.
“What did they say?” I asked with my arms crossed over my chest.
I nibbled at my thumbnail as the nerves took over while I waited for him to answer.
He didn’t.
Instead, he took a seat at one of the stools and rested his elbows on top of the bar.
“Pour me some of the good stuff, kid.”
He tapped the top of the counter twice.
Pushing away from my spot against the register, I grabbed a shot glass from beneath the bar and poured him a drink. Sliding it across to him, I poured one for myself.
“Is that part of the doctor’s orders?” I asked, pointing at his shot glass with my own before I downed the fiery liquid.
“Yep.”
He lifted his shot and poured it down the back of his throat.
I sighed, my patience wearing thin.
“What did they say?” I asked again.
He eyed me over the rim of his glass before he set it down on the counter with a loud clank.
“Pneumonia.” He shrugged. “No big deal.”
“I’m pretty sure that is a big deal, Clive.”
He waved me off. “They said it was a touch. It’s basically a glorified cold. They gave me some meds.” He pulled a brown paper bag from his pocket and tossed it onto the bar. “I’ll be good as new in a few days.”
I eyed him suspiciously.
Part of me worried there was something more, but an even bigger part of me wanted to believe what he was saying was the truth.
A glorified cold.
We could handle that.
No biggie.
“You were gone for a long time. Anything else happen?”
He tapped the counter, and I poured him another shot. He downed it before answering me.
“I had to make another stop.”
He slid from the barstool and walked away.
I followed right behind him.
“Where?”
“Hey, I don’t ask you where you go and what you do every time you leave.”
I rolled my eyes and leaned against the doorframe of the supply room.
“That’s because I never go anywhere, old man.”
“Well, maybe you should change that so I can be nosy every once in a while. See how you like it.”
“Go where?” I chuckled. “I’m here all the time. I have no time to make friends.”
Not that I wanted any.
Friends were highly overrated.
“Plenty of girls eye you when they come to the bar. Ever think about making one of them your girlfriend?”
I cringed. “Hell, no. I don’t need that kind of drama in my life. I’m good right here running Mike’s with you.”
He looked up from his papers with a smirk.
“Oh, so you’re running the place now?”
I shrugged. “Pretty much.”
At that, he laughed.
“Since I’m here running things, maybe you should get a girlfriend. Since you’re so fond of the idea.”
He scoffed. “There’s no hope for an old man like me.”
It was then that the coughing fit started. He grabbed a tissue and covered his mouth as his body weakened with each cough.
“You sure you’re okay, Clive?”
He looked up at me, stuffing the tissue into his pocket, and I knew he could sense my worry.
“For now, I’m fine.” He swallowed hard, choking back a cough. “But there’s going to be a time when I’m not. I’m old. It’s bound to happen. When that time comes, you’ll be fine. Trust me.”
I nodded.
I opened my mouth to say more, but nothing came out. He needed to know how much I appreciated everything he had done for me, but the words wouldn’t come out. The fear of losing him, as well, was too much. I just hoped deep down he knew what he meant to me.
“Promise you’ll tell me if you get worse?”
He sighed but nodded.
“Fine, but you have to promise you’ll try harder to make friends and meet a nice girl.”
I laughed.
“Fine.”
I had no intention of finding a girlfriend, but if it made Clive happy to think I was looking, then so be it. My focus was getting him better, and then maybe I would try to fulfill my end of the promise. Maybe I would find my Jessica Rabbit and settle down.
It wasn’t likely, but he didn’t need to know that.