He Use To Be A Son Of Anarchy

Chapter Eight: Drunken Confessions

The next Friday I was sitting in the library paging through a book about world monuments when my phone vibrated. Someone was calling me. Correction, not just someone; it was my dad.

I looked at the phone for a few seconds. I'd been avoiding him for days. This must have been the twentieth time he tried to call me. Something that was eating away on my insides urged me to just answer the damn phone.

I picked up the phone and very unsurely said hello.

"Val, it's Dad," my father's voice came through.

"I know," I said.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. Listen, sweetie, before you slam the phone down in my ear please just let me apologise."

I remained quiet for a moment.

"Val, are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. I'm listening."

"Oh, good. Sweetie, I'm so sorry. I was being a giant ass. I knew you would react badly when you saw your mom, but I had to try. When I'm gone..." his voiced carried away.

"Let's not think about that now," I said.

"No, Val. We need to. I am going to die. It might not be today or tomorrow but it will happen. And when it does I want someone to be there for you. I know you might think that your mom is not the best choice for this, but honey I've got to know her a bit more since she's been sober and clean. She's the same woman now as when I first met her. And you don't know that version of her. I'm not asking you to forgive her or become best friends with her. I just want you to talk to her once."

There was silence.

"Dad, I can't promise you that. She really hurt me."

"I know, I know. Just grant a dying man his last wish, Val."

"Don't play that card, Dad. I'll think about it, okay? And I'm not making any promises. But I don't want us to be mad at each other anymore. I know what's coming."

Just then Miss Wayforth came back from lunch and eyed me angrily.

"Listen, Dad, I need to get back to work now. I'll talk to you later."

"I love you, Val," he said.

"I love you too, Dad," I replied and hung up.

I closed the book I was browsing through and put it back on the shelf.

"Taking personal calls are not allowed during working hours," the cold voice of Miss Wayforth called from behind the information desk.

"I know. I'm sorry," I said, "I finished stamping those books you wanted. I'm heading out for lunch."

Before she could open her mouth to protest I hurried out the front door. I made my way down Central Street and turned left into Dawning Street. I passed the barber shop and headed into the deli next door. Behind the counter was an exhausted woman who looked to be in her late forties. She was wearing an apron and her hair was pulled back into a clip.

The deli doubled as a butchery. On the one side little tables were arranged and on the other side various cuts of meat were on display.

"Can I get you anything?" the woman asked when she spotted me. I eyed the menu above her head. Before I could open my mouth to answer her a loud clanging noise from behind her interrupted me.

"Sorry," she mumbled and went into a room behind her.

"Harry and Colin! So help me God today I am going to strangle you both. Go upstairs and finish your goddamn homework!" she yelled.