More Fanfiction!
A little more long-overdue Adam bit with his dad.
(note: the name for Adam's dad is by no means set in stone, so I would appreciate it if anyone else had an idea for a suitable name.)
Jacob Ross glanced up as Adam walked in through the door. Adam paused, casting a wary eye to the wiry 70-year -old man hooked up to the ventilator machine before taking a seat next to his bed. An uncomfortable silence hung in the hospital air between them for several minutes, broken only by the steady rhythm of the ventilator, though Adam knew it would've been broken sooner had it not been for the breathing mask on his father. Jacob tried his best to be patient, to wait for Adam's eyes to finally connect with his instead of wandering the room, wait for his mouth to work and form words instead of gaping open and shut in uncertainty. A few more terse moments passed before he started tapping his fingers an the bed in irritation. Adam smirked; his father was never very good at waiting. He forced himself to look into the steely gray eyes boring into him and face the painful memories that came with them.
"Well," Adam began, "I see you haven't changed much."
His father grunted through the breathing mask. No S*&@, kid, he seemed to say.
Adam clocked the glare. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna waste much of your time."
Good.
Adam took a breath, ran his hand through his red hair .
"I wasn't gonna come, you know. I haven't seen you in 10 years and I wasn't planning on ending that streak any time soon. But, I realized that I had a unique opportunity with you in the hospital."
Jacob raised a gray grizzled eyebrow. Oh?
Adam leaned in.
"See, you're not in any condition to move right now after what happened a couple of days ago; so you can't move. And since you're hooked up to this machine," he pointed to the ventilator, "you can't talk."
Oh, I don't like where this is going...
"So, now I can tell you a few things I've been wanting to say for a while now without you interrupting or walking out on me. Now you have to listen."
Adam got a steely glare as a reply. #@^&ing MAKE me.
Adam leaned back, taking another breath.
"I really don't understand why you came all this way to see me now. You never wanted to see me when I was little and you still lived with us. What changed?"
Jacob snorted and rolled his eyes. Oh, boy.
Adam snorted back. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter. You're here now. You obviously had something important to say or you wouldn't have bothered to find me."
My son, the detective.
"It's about your liver cancer, right?"
Jacob snapped his head towards him. How the hell did he know that?
Adam nodded. "I guess mom was right when she said your drinking would catch up with you someday. I found out from your doctor a few days ago. It's bad, but not so advanced that you can't beat it. But, you've missed your last few appointments to deal with 'family business'," he gave his father a concerned glance, his voice softened by worry, "Dad, you can't afford to miss your treatments."
The old man sighed, defiant, but tired.
His son continued.
"I also came because...well, I wasn't sure I'd have time later...you know, in case..." his voice trailed off.
Jacob nodded. I know.
"So, I just wanted to tell you....that you're still the biggest jackass I know."
Jacob snorted. I could've told you that.
"10 years and a divorce doesn't change or erase what you did to mom, to my brothers and sisters, or to me."
I know.
"There's a part of me that can't forgive and forget; that wants me to say how much I hate you and that you can go and burn in hell for all I care."
I know. It's a part of me, too.
"But, I can't."
Figures.
"Because you're still my dad. And I love you."
Distant weary eyes gazed past Adam. Just like your mother.
"Yeah, I know it's not something you've ever been able to say to anyone except maybe mom. You never said it to me, that's for sure," Adam gave a half laugh, then softened, "I never understood why that was so hard for you to say."
Oh, go cry to Oprah.
"But, I think I understand you a little better now."
Oh?
"It's hard to talk about a feeling that's caused you pain."
Jacob slowly nodded his grizzly gray head. Yes. Yes, it is.
"So, I don't expect you to tell me that because that's....that's just how you are. I know that now. I just wanted you to know that, even after all you did, I still love you."
Adam fell silent for a moment. His father was looking away from him, somehow much older and frailer now than when Adam had first walked in. Adam sighed as he got up from his chair.
"Well, that's all I wanted to say. Sorry I took longer than you wanted."
As he got up, Adam heard a muffled cry. He turned to see his dad looking up pleadingly at him, his hand outstretched towards his son. Curious and concerned, Adam bent down and took his hand.
He felt it squeeze once. Twice. Three times.
The edge had fallen off of the gray eyes, replaced by a gruff gentleness Adam had never seen before. Then, he understood his father's message. A quiet tear rolled down Adam's face. He choked back the rest and awkwardly hugged his dad who gave an equally awkward hug back.
"Thanks, Dad." Adam whispered.
No. Thank you.
After a moment, they let go. Adam smiled and, though the mask covered most of his face, he could tell his dad was smiling too.
"Goodbye, Dad." Adam said as he waved.
Jacob raised his hand and waved back.
Goodbye, son.
(note: the name for Adam's dad is by no means set in stone, so I would appreciate it if anyone else had an idea for a suitable name.)
Jacob Ross glanced up as Adam walked in through the door. Adam paused, casting a wary eye to the wiry 70-year -old man hooked up to the ventilator machine before taking a seat next to his bed. An uncomfortable silence hung in the hospital air between them for several minutes, broken only by the steady rhythm of the ventilator, though Adam knew it would've been broken sooner had it not been for the breathing mask on his father. Jacob tried his best to be patient, to wait for Adam's eyes to finally connect with his instead of wandering the room, wait for his mouth to work and form words instead of gaping open and shut in uncertainty. A few more terse moments passed before he started tapping his fingers an the bed in irritation. Adam smirked; his father was never very good at waiting. He forced himself to look into the steely gray eyes boring into him and face the painful memories that came with them.
"Well," Adam began, "I see you haven't changed much."
His father grunted through the breathing mask. No S*&@, kid, he seemed to say.
Adam clocked the glare. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna waste much of your time."
Good.
Adam took a breath, ran his hand through his red hair .
"I wasn't gonna come, you know. I haven't seen you in 10 years and I wasn't planning on ending that streak any time soon. But, I realized that I had a unique opportunity with you in the hospital."
Jacob raised a gray grizzled eyebrow. Oh?
Adam leaned in.
"See, you're not in any condition to move right now after what happened a couple of days ago; so you can't move. And since you're hooked up to this machine," he pointed to the ventilator, "you can't talk."
Oh, I don't like where this is going...
"So, now I can tell you a few things I've been wanting to say for a while now without you interrupting or walking out on me. Now you have to listen."
Adam got a steely glare as a reply. #@^&ing MAKE me.
Adam leaned back, taking another breath.
"I really don't understand why you came all this way to see me now. You never wanted to see me when I was little and you still lived with us. What changed?"
Jacob snorted and rolled his eyes. Oh, boy.
Adam snorted back. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter. You're here now. You obviously had something important to say or you wouldn't have bothered to find me."
My son, the detective.
"It's about your liver cancer, right?"
Jacob snapped his head towards him. How the hell did he know that?
Adam nodded. "I guess mom was right when she said your drinking would catch up with you someday. I found out from your doctor a few days ago. It's bad, but not so advanced that you can't beat it. But, you've missed your last few appointments to deal with 'family business'," he gave his father a concerned glance, his voice softened by worry, "Dad, you can't afford to miss your treatments."
The old man sighed, defiant, but tired.
His son continued.
"I also came because...well, I wasn't sure I'd have time later...you know, in case..." his voice trailed off.
Jacob nodded. I know.
"So, I just wanted to tell you....that you're still the biggest jackass I know."
Jacob snorted. I could've told you that.
"10 years and a divorce doesn't change or erase what you did to mom, to my brothers and sisters, or to me."
I know.
"There's a part of me that can't forgive and forget; that wants me to say how much I hate you and that you can go and burn in hell for all I care."
I know. It's a part of me, too.
"But, I can't."
Figures.
"Because you're still my dad. And I love you."
Distant weary eyes gazed past Adam. Just like your mother.
"Yeah, I know it's not something you've ever been able to say to anyone except maybe mom. You never said it to me, that's for sure," Adam gave a half laugh, then softened, "I never understood why that was so hard for you to say."
Oh, go cry to Oprah.
"But, I think I understand you a little better now."
Oh?
"It's hard to talk about a feeling that's caused you pain."
Jacob slowly nodded his grizzly gray head. Yes. Yes, it is.
"So, I don't expect you to tell me that because that's....that's just how you are. I know that now. I just wanted you to know that, even after all you did, I still love you."
Adam fell silent for a moment. His father was looking away from him, somehow much older and frailer now than when Adam had first walked in. Adam sighed as he got up from his chair.
"Well, that's all I wanted to say. Sorry I took longer than you wanted."
As he got up, Adam heard a muffled cry. He turned to see his dad looking up pleadingly at him, his hand outstretched towards his son. Curious and concerned, Adam bent down and took his hand.
He felt it squeeze once. Twice. Three times.
The edge had fallen off of the gray eyes, replaced by a gruff gentleness Adam had never seen before. Then, he understood his father's message. A quiet tear rolled down Adam's face. He choked back the rest and awkwardly hugged his dad who gave an equally awkward hug back.
"Thanks, Dad." Adam whispered.
No. Thank you.
After a moment, they let go. Adam smiled and, though the mask covered most of his face, he could tell his dad was smiling too.
"Goodbye, Dad." Adam said as he waved.
Jacob raised his hand and waved back.
Goodbye, son.