He muted the TV, laid the remote on the end table, and cocked his head to look up at her. “You could have knocked. So tell me, what is it you want?”
“What a loving way to greet your daughter!” Annie stood just inside the door. She bristled, glaring at the old man. “A better question might be ‘Why are you still here?’ A Grinch like you should have worn out his welcome on earth 20 years ago.”
He almost smiled, with lips as thin as his hair turning up slightly at the edges. But his eyes remained dark and expressionless.
“A little dramatic, aren’t we? After all, you called me. You made this appointment, and as you just thoughtfully pointed out, I don’t have a lot of time left. I certainly have none to waste.”
He gestured to a straight-backed chair across the room from his recliner. “So…if you have something to say, sit down and get to the point.”
Annie deflated and perched on the edge of the chair. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Daddy, Mama is in Watertown, in hospice care. She’s not always lucid, but when she is, she asks for you. She cries for you. She begs me to find you and bring you home. She can’t come to grips with … with you … with your…”
Her father snorted. “With my unbelievable generosity? With my thoughtfulness and capacity for love? With my willingness to forgive unforgivable sins against myself, and, by the way, against you and Aaron as well?”
Annie did not reply. She looked down at her lap, frowned at the hands propped there, nervously twisting her gloves and clutching the straps on her purse.
“No?” he continued with a muted snarl. “I didn’t think that was it. Is she still sane enough to remember that she walked out on us? To remember that she left behind a seven-year-old daughter and a five-year-old son. Not to mention a husband who loved her more than life itself.”
Annie brought her face up to look deep into his eyes. “Daddy, please. Won’t you go see her, talk to her? She needs—”
“No!” He shook his head and held up both hands as though to fend off her request. “Ann-Marie made her choice years ago. It’s too late for her to change her mind.”
“Daddy, Mama needs you. Can’t you let the past go? Aaron and me and you…the three of us, we got along all right after she left, but she fell into a pit. She really needs to see you. And I need you to help her get through the next few weeks.”
He shook his head, his mouth as twisted as her gloves.
“Listen to me, Annie. Your mother walked out on us. Her decision. She may regret it now, but my grandmother told me, “You make your bed hard, you turn often.’ Ann-Marie may be spinning now, but that is hardly my concern. And I have no idea why you think it is any of yours. Baby Girl, she left us—she left you—behind without a backward glance. How can you forget that?”
“Daddy!” Annie’s vision swam with unshed tears. “How can you and Aaron be so very hard-hearted? Even if you don’t love her now, you once loved her. Desperately. I remember how we missed her, how you used to hold Aaron and me so tight it hurt and cry into our hair. Daddy, now she misses you even more!”
His voice was cold and brittle. “Annie, my tears are all shed. If your mother needs love, she’ll have to settle for whatever you can give her. I’ll certainly help you with medical and hospice expenses and take care of any final arrangements.” He smoothed his lips in another thin smile. “After all, she is still my wife.”
“My God, Daddy!” Annie dabbed at her eyes with her gloves, then stood up and slid her purse onto her shoulder.
“This is so messed up. Momma’s dying, all needy and sucky and squishy like quicksand … .alone. You’re dying, all self-sufficient and cold and granite-hard … alone. Between you, Mama, and Aaron being just as stubborn as you are, I’m falling apart.”
She breathed deeply, took a few steps toward the door, then turned back to face him. “You want to be alone, Daddy? Fine. Go to hell…all by yourself.”
He watched as Annie spun away, opened the door and slammed it behind her. Then he swiveled his chair, retrieved the remote from its parking place, and re-thumbed the mute button.