The last confrontation, he hoped, until Max got his act together—or didn’t. Kevin didn’t want to think about the latter possibility. He reached into his pocket for a key just as the door swung open wide and Max greeted him in all his naked glory.
With a groan, Kevin pushed past Max and entered the apartment, pulling his father along with him. “Is that how you normally greet your neighbors?” Kevin asked.
“If they wake me then they get what they deserve.”
“Well, go get some clothes on. I’ll make a pot of coffee.”
“I don’t need any.”
Kevin raised an eyebrow. “Maybe not, but I do. Then I want to talk.”
Max retreated, muttering something about an ungrateful and intrusive kid. The man never looked in a mirror, Kevin thought. He headed for the kitchen and dug out the coffee maker he’d purchased for Max years ago in the futile hope he’d actua
lly make the stuff himself and aid in his own sobriety.
It took Max forever to pull on a pair of jeans and an old shirt, and by the time he sauntered back into the kitchen, Kevin had two cups of coffee ready and waiting.
“Have a seat, Dad. It’s black. Just the way you like it.”
Max threw himself into a chair.
“It’s Monday. Don’t you have to be at work?” Kevin asked, although he already knew the answer.
“I quit.”
“More like you were fired,” he muttered. He’d followed up on Max’s last job and learned his father hadn’t been a reliable employee. No big surprise there. “They needed someone who’d actually show up for work.”
Max shrugged. “So now I have more free time.”
“How are you going to pay your rent? Buy food?” Buy alcohol, Kevin thought bitterly.
“You always come through for your old man.”
Yes, he had. And he hadn’t done either of them any good. But at least Max had just given him the opening he sought. “And why do you think I do that?” Kevin asked his father.
“Because I gave you life and you owe me,” Max muttered. “Coffee tastes like mud.”
“That’s the cotton in your mouth from last night’s binge. I do it because you’re my father... and I love you.” Once the words escaped his lips, Kevin realized it hadn’t been as difficult as he’d anticipated.
Caught off guard, Max lowered the mug from his lips and it hit the table with a thud, sloshing liquid over the rim and onto the white Formica top. Kevin resisted the urge to wipe it up. It wasn’t his mess.
“You’re... I mean... you’ve been a good son,” Max muttered, and Kevin understood how difficult even those words had been for his father.
The ones Kevin was about to say were even tougher because, though he didn’t know it, he was about to give Max cause to rethink his opinion.
“Things have to change, Max.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Max yawned. “Are you through? I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Kevin shook his head. “I’m not through. I’m going to be a father. You know what that means?”
“You weren’t using protection?” Max said and laughed at his own bad joke.
“It means you’re going to be a grandfather.”
The rewording of the news seemed to take Max by surprise. He sat back in his seat and eyed Kevin in silence.
“I’d like you to be a better grandfather than you were a father, but that’s up to you. Whether you see your grandchild or not, that’s up to me.” Kevin pushed his seat back and stood. “From here on in you’re on your own. I’m not paying your rent and I’m not leaving food in the fridge.”