My Father's Best Man

Chapter 15

Soon after I left April's apartment, I got a text from my father telling me to call him back. It looked urgent, but I was already on my way home, so I didn't reply. I thought a lot about what April shared with me over the night. Her family situation was rough, but she still made it out alive.

Her mother got pregnant quite young, so when her mother started dating again, she told April to call her by her first name, to pretend they were sisters. That went on for years before her mother finally got married. And it turned out April's stepdad knew the truth the whole time; he just kept that illusion on for her mother's sake.

According to April, her stepdad was a gentle soul, but even he couldn't take her mother's bullshit. He left a few years ago, but he would still call in every now and then to check on her and her mother.

I didn't ask how her stepfather felt about her being a stripper. It was none of my business, and maybe she didn't tell him. But it still bothered me that she chose this as her profession. Me being a chauvinistic pig didn't really give me a good standing point on that topic, so that conversation died rather quickly while we were still in the club.

She did say that working nude wasn't always on her mind. And even after talking to her roommate, she was still unsure about that idea. But like me, she was confused with her impending adulthood, didn't really know what to do with her life. So, she took that leap of faith and was fine so far.

College wasn't always off the table. It wasn't until after talking to her community college counselor back home that she dropped the idea of majoring in psychology and English lit. He didn't sound like a good counselor to me... Instead of being supportive, his priority was more on the job market.

If I were April, I most likely wouldn't pose nude. But I would still use her good looks to my advantage. Become a model, maybe? But she wasn't that tall, though... I couldn't think of another profession where beauty could be used as a form of currency; I was never pretty, so that train of thought was never around.

I could imagine what it'd be like, though, growing up pretty. You'd probably get a lot of free stuff. But people would also stare at you for no reason other than the symmetry of your face. And what they were thinking while they lusted with their eyes was something I did not want to think about...

She said that happened a lot... When she was still working at the mall, grown men with children would ogle at her from behind the yogurt stand. Some would take pictures, and others would ask for her phone number. And if she said, "No," they'd call her a bitch.

After sharing that story, she came to the conclusion that working nude was her subconscious telling her to take her body back, to take ownership over her sexuality. If that was what she needed, who was I to say anything?

That also made me think something bad might've happened between her and her ex... She didn't elaborate, and I didn't ask.

I realized I've been thinking too much about her, and that made me drunk on dopamine again. Since what we had was already gone, it wasn't healthy for me to linger on. I wasn't hungry, but I thought food might distract me from thinking of her. She did mention that there was this great waffle place I should check out. But that restaurant wasn't on my way, so I stopped by another waffle house off the freeway.

I ordered a banana cream pancake and asked for their homemade syrup. It looked too sweet, so I asked the waitress to add an iced tea on the side.

My phone rang. I was hoping it was from April, but it was my father. "Michael?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you get my text?"

"Just did."

"Where are you?"

"I'm in Utah. I left you a note."

"I saw."

There was a pause. Then his voice started to tremble. "Uncle Ron... passed away."

"...When?"

"Yesterday. I called a few times. You didn't pick up."

I checked my missed calls. He called five times.

"Are you on your way back?"

"Yeah, yeah... I should be home tonight."

"Good, good... Well... Drive safe."

"Yeah... See you soon."

"Okay... Bye."

"Bye..."

That was sudden. I couldn't eat anymore. I didn't know Uncle Ron that well. He was my father's second oldest brother. He was supposed to be the smart one. The few times that I saw him were at family gatherings, around Thanksgiving or Christmas. He was always quiet and didn't look all that there. He always had his medicine bottle with him. One distinct memory I had of him was when I was seven, at another family get together. After I stepped out of the bathroom, he saw my hands were still wet. He said to me, "You should dry your hands before turning off the lights." I didn't think anything of it. But that was probably his way of looking out for me, looking out for his family.

My father didn't tell me when the funeral was going to be. He was quite emotional over the phone.

I called my sister, and she was already at the airport, ready to board. "Yeah... I can't pick you up. I'm still driving."

"Oh, don't worry. I already called Uncle Abe. You drive safe, okay?"

"Okay... See you tonight."

"Kay."

Uncle Abe was also the one who picked me up from school when my mom was sent to the emergency room.

It was my freshman finals week. My sister was already home because she already finished her Spring college exams. They all wished me good luck over the webcam. But then the very next day, my father called and wanted me home immediately. I was confused. I brought my luggage to the gate, and Uncle Abe was there waiting by his old Mustang.

We rushed straight to the hospital, and I knew then... My mother was already in the intensive care unit. She was hooked up to an oxygen mask, but she was still able to talk.

We stayed up all night. The room wasn't that big, so we took turns to be with her. When it was my turn, I held her hand tightly in mine, kept apologizing for nothing and everything. By then, she was already too weak to talk. She tried to take off her mask, but couldn't.

Late in the night, the doctor and the nurses came. They gave my father a sheet of paper to sign. He signed it. Then he asked me to take out my trumpet.

I put the practice mute on, and we performed her favorite tune. Her heart rate monitor never went flatline, but the doctor explained to us she was already gone. I started choking on my own tears, and everything else went by like a blur...