“Selfish how?”
He looks down at me. “Try not to take offense, but you’re such a perfectionist, and I hate saying this, but I think his condition would have clouded your judgment and you would have missed touring with a great guitarist, and…in turn, LL would have missed fulfilling his dream. This was his last chance.” He exhales harshly. “I’ve been in his shoes, been as desperate as he was, and I noticed it right away.” Dad’s expression darkens, as it does when he talks about that time in his life, years before he and Mom got married. “He wanted it so badly, so much more than anyone else that auditioned, and he’s more talented than over half the guitar players I know. I’m sorry if that pisses you off, but I wanted him to have it.”
“You’re kind of making it hard to stay pissed off,” I say, glancing up at him.
Dad doesn’t answer, his eyes back on LL as I study him, nothing but empathy rolling off him as I spot my messenger bag dangling from his hand. Dad seems to realize he’s blanked out and lifts it within my reach.
“I brought this, just in case you decided to stay. There’s some grub in there too.”
I grab the offered bag. “Thanks. They’re bringing me a cot, though I’m completely clueless why I am staying. I damn near threw him off the balcony tonight.”
“Kindred spirits don’t always get along. In fact, they often butt heads. I’ve learned that over the years. Try to understand, son, the hand he was dealt was brutal. He may have proven to be a shifty asshole, but for some reason, he had a part to play in our lives.”
“You believe that 11:11 cosmic crap, Dad? Truly?”
“Fuck yeah, I do. There have been times that I tried to reason my way out of it, and even when I’m successful, there has to be a reason behind that reason. I gave up trying to figure it out years ago.”
“I get exactly what you’re saying. I wouldn’t have ten minutes ago, but trust me, I’m reeling.”
He shakes his head, eyes wary. “Facts are facts, and what’s happened over the years—especially in our family—most would consider a series of coincidences, but I deem small miracles.” He blows out a harsh breath. “I’m fucking beat. I’m going back to the hotel. Text me when he wakes up.”
“What if he doesn’t?” I ask, and we share a long, loaded silence.
“Then it will be a tragedy,” he replies, eyeing LL before pulling his gaze away.
“I don’t hate him, and I’m really not even that pissed anymore, but I can’t figure out why,” I confess.
“He looks pretty harmless on life support, and maybe because you finally recognize beneath his bullshit, he’s a human being that’s suffering, and I raised a good man.”
I swallow as I focus back on LL. “What the hell are we going to do about our tour? I don’t want to leave him in a hospital. I don’t think I could even get on stage if he’s…here like this.”
“One thing at a time,” he says, “and that’s a ways away. We’ll figure it all out.”
“Yeah?” I manage a grin. “You going to come out of retirement?”
“Fuck no,” he chuckles. “And I’m a drummer.”
“The best alive,” I add.
He cuffs my shoulder in goodbye. “Love you.”
“You, too,” I say as he leaves me in the room with LL, who’s only breathing right now, due to a machine.
Opening my messenger bag, I retrieve the toothpaste and brush, a clean T-shirt, and a travel-sized bar of Dad’s Irish Spring. I can’t help my grin at the sight of it and I head to LL’s pint-sized bathroom to shower. Tonight most definitely took a turn I wasn’t expecting. Distracted by the past four hours, it’s when I line my toothbrush that I realize I’ve propped my cell up against the sink out of old habit. Something I haven’t done in months. The difference is, on the other side, the screen remains dark. Gut-wrenching pain crashes into me as I replay every detail of the hours prior.
She signed.
Aching and raw, my thoughts stray back to where they have been the last year. I situate myself on the newly delivered bed that was set adjacent to LL’s, the quality far better than I had imagined it would be. Thankful for the comfort, I sit atop it and adjust the pillows before pulling my messenger bag into my lap.
Popping the Tylenol and downing the water Dad provided, I glance over to LL. According to the specialist, he’s nowhere close to out of the woods yet, his prognosis uncertain, but his comatose state says enough for now.