Eight Hundred Grapes

Then he did.

Everything Worth Doing

It was 9 A.M., so I went back to the hospital to see my father. He was sitting up in bed, his color back. He looked like himself, which was an enormous relief, the tears rushing to my eyes.

He stopped me with his arm, with a quick wave of it. My father had never liked tears and he didn’t want to watch mine now, not on his watch, not when he didn’t have the energy to stop them.

“I hate it in here,” he said.

This instead of hello.

“I really hate it,” he said.

“Then leave.”

“Working on it. Your mother is getting me checked out as we speak. She’s talking to the doctors and the administrators. Or at least, that’s what she said she’s doing.”

“You think she’s lying to you?”

“She could be running to get a sandwich.”

I laughed and took a seat on the edge of the bed, took hold of my father’s hand. Scare or no scare, I never wanted to be sitting there again.

“Are the brothers working?”

“Yes, the vineyard is all good.”

“Good.” He paused. “Do they still want to kill each other?”

“Yes, but the normal amount.”

“Also good. Though it’s really about the grapes. Remind them of that. If anyone loses perspective again, remind them that the most important things don’t involve that much talking.”

“Of course.”

He closed his eyes. He was tired. There was no denying that. He needed rest. And all of this time, he’d had trouble asking for it. Now he was going to get it. “Thank you.”

“For someone who says he doesn’t care about that place anymore, you seem pretty concerned.”

“Who said I didn’t care? I’m just getting ready to care about something else.”

That was the truth, wasn’t it? We had so much space in our heart. My mother was tired of giving it all to our family, so she gave it to Henry. Until she realized that wasn’t the answer either. My father realizing the same thing in time to save them.

“It’s time for me to get out of here, kid,” he said.

“You like to go out with a bang?”

He laughed.

He reached for my face, holding my cheek. “What happened?”

I shook my head without answering.

“You left Ben?”

I nodded, trying not to think about where Ben was now, what was happening with him. Maybe he was talking to Michelle, but probably he was letting it sink in for himself that he was going to London, that he was doing what he needed to do. We both were.

My father nodded. “It was the right thing,” he said.