Greaser

43. Invitations & Disagreements

 N I A L L 

“I hate to ask this.” she started.

“Then don’t ask it.” I chuckled, cutting her off from talking any further. She huffed out a breath of air, staring in my direction in frustration. It wasn’t hard to see that she was getting impatient with my attitude, which in return was also impatient. I hated planning things, that bridal shower thing was like a, like a once in a life time thing.

“Are you inviting your dad?”

“No why the hell would I, Mary? Are you going to invite yours?”

“That’s not funny.” She blankly stated, my shoulders slumped over as I took a sip from my coffee mug. The warm, black coffee sliding down my throat.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t expect me to invite him.” I shrugged, tossing my feet up onto the coffee table, lounging back.

“Niall,” She sighed, “I think in the long run you’ll want him there. At least invite him, who knows if he will even come.”

“Exactly, Mary!” I laughed out, “He may not even come, that’s a waste of an invitation. It’ll just get thrown in the trash.” I explained, shrugging my shoulders “Would you still invite your dad? If you know—he wasn’t in prison?”

“Maybe. I don’t know, Niall. You know our fathers are both drastically different circumstances.”

“Yeah, but if you were me, would you invite my dad?”

“Well yeah.” she said. “Even if he doesn’t come, I’ll feel good knowing that I at least made the attempt of inviting him.” I stared at the wall, thinking about her words. My eyes flicked over to her, just in time to see her body extend slowly off the couch’s comfort. She dropped the invitations that were in her hand at the time, and replaced them with her mug that was now empty. The tea I made her completely gone, and my guess was—she was getting up for some more. “And for the record. I wouldn’t invite my father, because I know what he did to your mother. You wouldn’t want him here, and I wouldn’t want to put that on you.” She calmly sighed. She had a point, but I still didn’t want Tony to have to see the man who hurt him when I wasn’t home. I didn’t want him to have those memories come flooding back when I knew that he was just starting to get happy again.

I followed Mary’s pursuit into the kitchen, leaning against the counter top in the middle of the kitchen. “I just don’t want Tony to have all those memories come back.” I said quietly, “I don’t want him to have to worry about whether my father is drinking and if he’s going to hurt him.”

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but you just recently put him through that.”

I closed my eyes, folding my arms over my chest. I knew that was coming, it’s been nearly two weeks since all that, and it still came up every so often for her to prove a point. Although, I admit I deserve it most of the time. “I know. I know I did, but I never once laid a finger on that kid.”

“I know you didn’t, but he was probably still worried that you might. Having your father at the wedding won’t be much different.”

“But it will be,” I laughed, “Because he actually hurt Tony. I didn’t.”

She let out a long breath, nodding her head. “I know that, but all I am saying is, he made it through that rough week with you, and I’m sure he will make it through the two hours, maybe three, that your father shows up here. If he even decides to show up.”

“So you don’t care if Tony feels unsafe?”

“I didn’t say that.” She muttered, “I want him to feel safe, but who is to say he won’t feel safe for those few hours?”