Gone (Ianthony)

One Month, One Week, Four Days, and Two Hours Before

Anthony:    

I sat outside my dad's house for a good hour before building up enough courage to even see if he was home.

I wanted to sit in that car forever. Or to have never left the hotel room this morning. But this was my only trace to Ian. My least favorite person in the world was currently my only source to find my favorite person in the world. It was kind of metaphoric.

I held Ian's note tight in my fist as I finally took a deep breath and opened the car door. I wasn't even a hundred percent sure this was his house - my mom wasn't even sure he lived there anymore. But it was my only lead. And I was fighting a civil war with myself right then: half of me prayed he wasn't there so I didn't have to see him, and the other half prayed he was, because finding Ian was much more important than the scum known as my father.

His house- well, mansion, was even bigger than I'd expected. As I knocked on the door, I felt slightly intimidated, and I half-expected a butler or something to answer.

But, after I knocked twice and was just getting ready to decide he wasn't home, the lock clicked and I held my breath and tried to look as held-together as possible.

And then there he was.

I wasn't quite sure what I was expecting; some old fat alcoholic in a wife beater with a bald head and foul attitude. 

Or maybe my optimistic side was hoping for an inviting, nearly-sixty-but-looking-forty guy with Bosley and a suit.

And I think I got about a perfect mix of the two.

Because as I stared at the guy in front of me, I didn't see my dad. I saw a man who looked his age, complete with the balding head and potbelly, but his inviting smile and alert eyes told me it was him.

"Hello, can I help you?" he asked, his voice somewhat assertive, but also comforting.

I was so conflcted. I wanted to scream in his face and tell him what a horrible human being he was and demand we make the visit as short as possible. But as I looked into his brown eyes, almost identical to mine, I couldn't help but want to hug him and tell him how much I had missed him in my life.

Eventually, a managed out a soft "hi."

He stared at me for a moment, and I stared back, and then I watched as realization hit him like what I imagined getting hit in the face by a snowball would feel like if it snowed in California, and his mouth fell open and his shoulders slouched and his eyes expanded.

'I- I... Anthony?"

I tried to smile at him. The civil war was in full effect now. I wished I would have spent the ride here preparing what I would say to him instead of dreaming up scenarios that would most likely never happen.

"Hi Dad." My voice was almost too soft to be heard.

Then he smiled. And I saw myself in him. The way his eyes squinted to nearly nothing, a small dimple formed on the right side of his face, and his nose crinkled up, it almost felt like I was looking into a mirror. An older, balder, fatter version of myself.

"Oh my..." He shook his head. "Who allowed you to grow up?!"

I realized then I was smiling also. I tried to frown. I tried to let myself control the war. But one half was obviously winning, because as hard as it was to admit, it was good to see him.

"I-I hate to just barge in, but I sort of have to ask you something. It's important. Are you-"

"No, no, no, come in, come in!"

His house was just as nice on the inside as it was on the outside. If I would have known, I would have dressed nicer - the whole "jeans and a video game T-shirt" look wasn't exactly appropriate for the extremely expensive-tasting champagne I found in my hand five minutes later.

My dad's wife wasn't home, which was probably a good thing. Maybe it was a good thing my mom wasn't there, too. I knew an hour of champagne sipping couldn't possibly make up for nearly twenty years of abandoment, but it was a start.

"I know you might not believe me, but I've been trying to find you for years now. I called your mom, I called your old number, I really tried... even though you probably didn't wanna see me, I wanted to see you."

I didn't want him to talk about that. Because every word he said related to being my dad, I realized more and more that he was the same dad that abandoned me and made my childhood hell, and I wanted to hold on to our seemingly brief paradise. 

"I think you might know why I'm here," I deadpanned, ignoring his last little soliloquy.

"I think I do know why you're here." He sighed. "I just wish you weren't for a particular reason. I wish you just stopped by to say hi to Dear Old Dad."

He tried to smile at me. I shook my head. With every word that left his mouth, I realized more and more. Couldn't he see that I didn't wanna realize?

"No offense, but can you just tell me what he told you? I really only came for that."

He sat back on the couch. I still couldn't believe this was happening. I tried to save all the realization and the anger for when I wasn't sitting in the living room of the man himself.

"Alright, fine. I'm not gonna force you to spend time with me." He chuckled under his breath. "God knows I wish I could."

I tried to hold back. I couldn't.

I scoffed.

"Funny how you wanna spend all this time with me now, but when I really needed you to fucking raise me you showed no interest."

I heard him sigh and sit up straighter, and I knew I'd made a big mistake. I should have just kept my mouth shut.

"Anthony, I-"

"I don't care. Just tell me what Ian told you."

He stopped. Raised his eyebrows.

"Ian?"

I bit my lip.

"The man that talked to you and told you something about where he was?" I shook my head. "Please tell me you know what I'm talking about."

He stared blankly at me. I felt my throat swell up.

"No, no no no no no, please tell me you know. Shortish guy? Blue eyes? Brown hair?" I stood up. "Please don't tell me I came all this way for nothing. H-h-he said in his note you would know. I.. I- Please."

"If I recall correctly," my dad looked up at me, "that man - Ian, told me to first make sure you and I worked things out. He made he promise and everything." He pursed his lips. "Who is he?"

I sat back down slowly.

"My best friend. He's missing. I met him right after you left. He was the only reason I got through you abandoning mom and I."

He huffed and tried to smile again.

"Well, if he's your best friend, I can't break my promise to him, can I?"

"I'd really appreciate it if you would."

"Anthony."

"Fine." I leaned forward. "Let's talk."