Time To Live

Chapter 10: Cheesecake

Chris forced his long legs to move his body from the car and toward the front door. Staring at the large metal handle on the restaurant's door, he frowned. He did not want to go in there. In fact, he would literally be happy to sign up for experimental surgery right now if it meant that he could avoid this meeting. The thought crossed his mind slowly that he could run back to his car, race back home, and pretend that he'd forgotten the meeting – thereby avoiding this entire ordeal.

Instead, Dr. Walters' voice echoed inside his head, clear as day: "This is a solid first step to setting your life back to rights. You've said that you have things you wish to say to your son's uncle, that you have an apology to make, and this is a good first chance to make that happen, Chris. You can do this, just be strong."

Trying to conjure up his inner-fire, his inner Chris Motionless, if you will, he laughed to himself and focused on the task of putting one big, clumsy foot in front of the other. Once he was inside the restaurant, he asked the hostess if his party was already seated and, if so, where he might find them in the large building. She escorted him through the rows of faux-Egyptian architecture and toward the back of the massive open room, to a booth in front of a floor-to-ceiling window that gazed out on a courtyard.

Brian barely glanced up from his cellphone, but Angie slid from the table and brought him into a warm hug. "Hey you!" she offered with a smile. "You look very handsome."

He knew that there was nothing he could say or do over one meal that would ever get Brian to even consider accepting his apology, but he felt that the best place to begin was to put his best foot forward. Okay, so a suit would be a little ridiculous for a Cheesecake Factory lunch with his would-be kinda-in-laws, so instead he had chosen a pair of black jeans and paired them with a button-down white shirt, tucked in, of course, and a skinny black tie. He was wearing boots instead of sneakers, because that felt somehow dressier. Most importantly, he had his leather jacket and sunglasses – both important pieces of armor.

Brian didn't even look away from his gadget when he mumbled a, "Hello, Christopher."

Chris slid into the booth across from the couple and took a deep breath. The hardest hurdle had been making the phone call and asking for this meeting with them, well, with Brian, but he had crossed that finish line already. He tried to remind himself of this and tried to breathe so that he wouldn't pass out. He folded his hands in his lap, chewed on his bottom lip, and then stared across the table.

Angie smiled sweetly. "I'm really proud of you."

"Don't tell him that!" Brian gasped, shaking his head. "What the fuck has he done to make you proud?"

"He's here, isn't he?" she argued, nonplussed. "This can't be easy for him, Bri. He knows he fucked up and that you're not going to forgive him. Give the kid a fucking chance, would you? We drove all the way here and I want my fucking cheesecake!"

"God dammit," Brian grumbled and tossed his phone onto the seat between himself and his hungry wife. He offered Chris the barest glance, then spat, "Talk!"

After thanking the waiter for his glass of cold water, Chris cleared his throat and began to nervously tap his tattooed fingers against the tabletop. "Look, I know that I'm an asshole."