***
The drive up to my father's house gave me more than enough time to think through everything I'd been chewing on lately. The move to Boston General was going to do me good and help establish me as a reliable source in my field.
It was a good thing, and I would befriend Aiden's sister, Ansley as best I could. I'd heard more than once that she was a cold bitch, but most surgeons were. I was the outlier for sure and honestly hoped like hell that I would remain that way. Where I thought a lot of Aiden and his work, he was a staunch mother fucker. Life had to be all sorts of dull.
"Probably not with Elizabeth in his life now," I muttered as I pulled up to the run-down house I was raised in. Aiden had recently settled down with one of our previous residents at St. Marks, the situation a big no-no, but he'd fought it hard and won.
The front door to the house was propped open, and the sound of piano music billowed out the front door as I turned off the bike and got off.
After taking a deep breath and putting my helmet up, I walked up the all-to-familiar stairs and poked my head inside. My father was hunched over his piano, his back rounded, his head down. The most beautiful song I'd heard filled the room around me, and I had to fight back a million emotions.
I cleared my throat and slipped on the tightest facade I could muster up. "Dad."
"Parks?" He stilled his fingers and lifted his head, his voice soft and slurred. Drunk. He was always drunk.
"Yeah. I drove up here on my way to Boston. You doing okay?" I slipped my hands into my pockets and walked over to the side of the piano as my heart shattered in my chest. For all my bravado and cockiness, the site of him killing himself one drink at a time always broke me in half.
He turned his head slowly as a goofy grin spread across his aging face. "I'm fantastic. I've been working on a new piece. You wanna hear it?"
I reached out and ran my hand down the back of his head before leaning over and kissing the top of his head. "I do want to hear it. I'm going to clean up a little. You play me something good while I do."
"Don't clean up. I'll get to it." He patted the side of my arm and moved back into place to play his latest masterpiece.
I walked to the small kitchen, stepping over beer bottles and open cans of food. A few roaches skittered away as I moved through the filth and guilt promised deep retribution. I shouldn't have ignored him the way I had.
Music filled the air again, and I choked back tears. Being there hurt too fucking much. It was my only defense mechanism - to be absent.
"And that makes you better than her?" I knelt and pulled out a roll of trash bags from under the sink as my insides trembled. Nothing fucked me up like coming back to my dad's place. Nothing.
My father's deep baritone voice filled the room as I started to gather trash and liquor bottles, taking my time to completely clear the kitchen and living room of the debris and rot as he continued to sing and play. When lost in his music, he sounded alive again, fully restored to the respectable, happy guy he'd been my whole life.
I couldn't help but wonder how long he'd sat at the piano before I arrived. By the look of his clothes and the slight stench coming off of him - days.
After filling two bags with shit, I picked up another one and walked to the piano, collecting everything he'd dropped around him in piles.
"You like it, son?" He glanced down, and the light in his eyes flared. He was in another world when he played, one where my mother was still there and life wasn't the dark abyss it had become for him.
"I love it." I stood and moved behind him, running my hands over his shoulders and massaging some of the knots out of his back.
He dropped his hands to his lap and let out a sad sigh. "I've missed you. It's nice to see you looking so good."
"I've missed you too." I squeezed his shoulders and wrapped him in a tight hug as tears threatened to take over. I was a little boy all over again. Trying to raise myself with a broken-hearted man that loved me, but was lost to grief. "Let's get you in the shower and then I'll fix you something good to eat."
"Naw. I'm good. I had crackers..." He paused and reached up to scratch his wispy hair. "Um. I had them some time. I think today?"
"That's great. Come on. Let me help." I moved around him and pulled him up by his arms.
He let out a long groan and collapsed in my arms. "Sorry, boy. My legs aren't as strong as they used to be."
"Because you don't use them, Dad." I hoisted him up and walked to the bathroom, carrying him with me. After propping him up on the toilet, I opened the shower curtain and steadied myself. The whole thing was filled with dirty clothes and beer bottles. "Fuck."
I glanced over my shoulder to find him slumped over, sound asleep. Without breaking stride, I walked back into the kitchen and grabbed a trash bag to clean out the bathtub. I was going to have to put him in a home. I couldn't leave him like this. Not and be okay with myself.
Somehow I'd avoided the pictures on the walls the first time to the bathroom, but without the weight of him in my arms, my eyes moved across the memories, each one tearing down my resolve more than the last.
Picture after picture of my mother, of us, of them. Happy. Whole. Together.
"Fuck you." I stopped by the bathroom door and let my eyes run across him. He'd pissed himself and vomit ran down his shirt and pooled on the floor in front of him. I pursed my lips and turned my back to him as he laid there passed out again.
Every nasty emotion I'd been avoiding for the last twenty years raged through me in deadening waves. I glanced up to see a picture of my mother smiling down at me, her eyes filled with love and excitement. In a blind rage, I let out a long scream and reared back, smashing my fist into the glass and busting it in a million pieces.
"I hate you so much," I screamed and pressed my hands to my face. She had ruined him and as an aftereffect me. I'd never let a woman in. Not in a million years.
I pressed my fingers to my eyes so tightly that colored lights burst across the darkness behind my eyelids. I wouldn't cry. Not a fucking tear. Not another one for her. For what she'd done to my dad. I'd do what I always had done. I'd clean up the mess, take care of him and walk through the rest of my days numb to the fucked up fairy tale called love.
No woman would want me anyway. I was an impenetrable force, one that had fun, lived and loved on the outside and never once showed the real me. The one lost in the dark, screaming for truth and warmth.
"Parks?" My father mumbled, his eyelashes fluttering.
"I'm here, Dad. Sorry." I walked in and cleaned him up before getting the shower in working order. I got the water running and stripped him down. The sight of him naked and thin did something to me. It broke me further as if I ever thought that was possible.
He leaned against me as I stood in the shower, fully clothed and soaking wet. After taking care of him, I got him in clean clothes and put him to bed.
It took me several hours to finish cleaning the house and putting everything back in order. After I had finished up, I stood in the living room beside his piano, trying to decide what to do next. Taking my father's freedom from him left me feeling like a villain, but I knew without a doubt that I couldn't leave him to take care of himself.
I grabbed my phone from the kitchen and called around, trying to find a home health-care nurse, a chef, and a maid. It took a few hours, but by the time the sun set, I had everything in place.
After fixing a quick meal for him, I dropped down to the piano bench and ran my fingers across the white keys. There was a sense of healing awaiting me if I could just force myself to play. I'd learned from the greatest musician I knew - my dad. It was his source of strength and had gotten him through so much, but for me... it was just another memory.
"I would love to hear you play again." His voice was weak but sober.
"Oh yeah?" I forced a warm smile on my face and turned on the slick bench beneath me. "And what would you want me to play? I dropped my dolly in the dirt?"
He chuckled and ran his fingers through his hair, looking a million times better. "I'm sorry you found me like that. It's been a little rough lately."
I nodded and stood. "I get it. I have a few people coming to help you out each day, okay?"
He gave me a stern look. "You know I don't like being around other people."
"I get that, but I can't leave you to take care of yourself, and I have to be at Boston General by Monday, ready to sell my soul to their Chief of Staff." I winked and tried like hell to keep things light. "It's just a health care nurse, a chef, and a maid. Let them come in and do what they need to do. Then they'll go. You ain't even gotta talk to anyone, Dad."
He nodded. "And this will make you feel better?"
"Absolutely." I nodded toward the kitchen. "I made some spaghetti. Let's eat and catch up?"
"I'd like that." He reached out a hand toward me. "What day is it?"
"Saturday, dad. Middle of the fall. Your favorite time of the year." I walked toward him, took his hand and helped him to the kitchen. My life would get back on track soon enough, but for that night I would reminisce and live in the world he wanted me to. One where things had gone as planned and he wasn't killing himself one drink at a time.
A world that didn't exist. At least, not for me.