COHEN

“It’s me,” I call through the dark entryway. “Dad?”

There’s no answer. Instead, the sound of the television draws me through the small, cluttered house toward the living room. I step over a cardboard box crumpled in a heap on the overflowing trash bin; the beer cans that were once inside are now long gone.

“Dad?”

No answer again. I know he’s here, somewhere. He’s either ignoring me, or he’s lulled himself into a drunken stupor again. I take advantage of the quiet in the house to swing into the kitchen and pop open the fridge. Let’s see what the man’s been eating.

The shelves aren’t empty, but it’s not a pretty sight. Jar of pickles, leftover containers of pizza and Chinese... something growing in the back corner that looks like it was once a carrot.

Disgusting.

I slam the door shut and stomp my way into the living room.

My old man’s there, eyes wide open, watching an infomercial on a new ab workout machine. Not that he needs it—he’s thin as a rail, despite his horrendous nutritional routine.

“What the hell, dad?” I gesture to the living room. A pigsty would be an upgrade. “What happened to Becky?”

“The bitch tried to move my shit, so I sent her packing.”

“I pay her to clean your shit,” I say. “She was supposed to do your grocery shopping, your laundry, your dishes—you know, the things that make this place liveable for a human.”

“Yeah, well, I prefer to be alone.”

“You can’t handle being alone.”

“When’s the last time you stopped by to check on me?” My dad looks up, but it’s only to gesture toward the TV. “Change the channel, will you? I’ve been watching this idiot on the Bowflex for an hour. The batteries are out on the remote.”

“If you hadn’t sent Becky away, I bet she would’ve gotten you new batteries.” I move toward the TV, turn it off with a punch of my finger. “She’s the third maid I’ve hired this year and we’re barely into spring.”

“If you helped out a little more, you wouldn’t need to hire someone.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. This was a horrible idea, coming here. I’d thought, for a second, that because Annie’s giving her dad his zillionth chance tonight, I should do the same for mine. I already have regrets.

“I was here two weeks ago.”

“Two weeks.” He snorts.

“I’m an adult, dad. So are you. I’m not your babysitter. I have a career, I have a life, I have a girlfriend—”

I didn’t mean to say the last part, but it just spilled out. Somehow, without my realizing it, Annie’s worked her way into my list of top priorities. Right next to life and career.

“Girlfriend? I thought you were smarter than that,” he says. “Women.”

“Woman,” I correct him. “She’s incredible.”

“Is she nice-looking?”

My hands are balled into fists. “I shouldn’t have come here in the first place. I came here to... you know what? Never mind.”

“What did you come here for, son?” My dad’s fumbling for the remote, even though there are no batteries in it. I can see the opening where they should be from here, since he hasn’t bothered to insert the backing. “You don’t enjoy my company.”

“You know, you’re right,” I say, and it kills me to do so, but I’m fed up. My mom took off when I was little, and ever since I could, I’ve been taking care of the both of us. Meanwhile, he’s taken the opportunity to slide deeper and deeper into this mess he’s created. “But you’re my dad. My only family, and I thought you should know that I’ve got a girlfriend.”

“You don’t do girlfriends. You’re like me.”

“No, dad, I’m not.”

“‘Course you are. When’s the last time you spent more than a few weeks with one woman?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you. Annie’s different. She’s special, and—”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake—you’re in love.”

“Yeah, dad, I am!” My voice rises, and I’m practically shouting. I haven’t even bothered to admit it to myself yet, let alone Annie, but when the words tumble out, I know they’re true. “I thought you might care to know. You don’t, so I’ll see you later.”

“What about the batteries?” My dad calls as I turn to leave. “How the hell am I supposed to turn the television on from here?”

“I don’t know what to do anymore.” I stop in the doorway and turn, my shoulders sagging, the familiar ache in my stomach now a hard knot. “I’ve lived here, and I’ve moved out. I’ve hired help, and I’ve done it myself. You won’t even talk to me about what’s going on here, so I’m done.”

“When do I meet this girlfriend of yours?”

“You’re not. Not like this.”

“You going to marry her?”

I’m silent. I don’t have a good answer to this, and I’m not up for debating the point with my father of all people.

“Good,” he says, mistaking my silence as a no. “You’re not the marrying type. Me and you, kid. We know. We get it. Women will never stand by you. They take off the second things get tough.”

“It’s not your fault she left. Mom ran off. It happens.”

“I’m just warning you to be careful,” he growls. “Otherwise, the next thing you know you’ll end up with a kid, a ruined marriage, and an empty house. Is that what you want?”

“Look, dad. I’m really sorry I ruined your life.” I take a deep breath to still the frustration, the fury, the sadness at this broken man into something more manageable. “I didn’t ask for mom to run away. I didn’t ask to raise myself. I didn’t ask to be born to a dad who never wanted a son. I have a choice with Annie, and I’m not going to let her go. I’m not letting her see you like this, either. So, figure your shit out, or we’re done here.”

“Buy me some damn batteries next time, will you?”

I turn to leave and barely make it outside before I slam the front door shut and pound my fist against it. Nothing I do, nothing I say seems to get through to him. I’m beginning to think it might never.

But I’m not introducing Annie to this—not now, not ever.

The thought of Annie sends a ripple of worry through my spine. She’s supposed to meet her dad in half an hour, and if I book it home, shower quickly, and shove myself into some clothes, I’ll be there in time. Just in case. Because I know what it’s like.

Annie and I might never figure out our fathers, we might never have golden, sparkly relationships with them. But what we do have, and what we can have, is each other. For tonight, at least, and hopefully forever.

“Rosa?” I dial my phone as I fly through Minneapolis traffic. “So sorry. He’s done it again. Do you have anyone who can stop by for a cleaning at his place? You have my credit card. Tomorrow’s perfect.”

I make it home, still a smelly mess from hockey practice. My knuckles are bruised, but that’s from my father’s door. I haul myself into the shower and make quick work of cleaning up, but I can’t stop the words rumbling through my head. My dad’s words.

Are you going to marry this girl?

I chew on it, picture what that might look like. Up until now, I’d never believed in marriage. It hadn’t worked for my parents, nor Annie’s, nor plenty of others. To me, it didn’t seem like a ring and a sheet of paper proved a whole lot of love between two people.

But, as the shower cascades over my shoulders and down my back, I picture Annie. I picture the two of us, together, years down the road. A house, a family, kids.

And suddenly, it’s not so damn scary anymore.

For once, I like the looks of my future.

Our future.