“Or maybe because you’ve been wound up so tight every single day for the last year that it was impossible to notice any difference.” He took a drink and gave me a look.
“I’m not like that anymore.”
“Lately, it seems like it.”
“Come on, I’ve got a lot of shit on my plate.” I couldn’t be a bubbly, happy guy all the time. Who the fuck was happy all the time? People went through cycles, being morose at times then positive at other times.
“I get stressed out at work all the time, and the first thing I do is go to your mom.”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe Emerson tells you this stuff.”
“I ask, Derek. What’s she supposed to do? Not answer me?”
“And I’m launching rockets. It’s totally different—”
“I lose patients all the time, Derek.” He gave me a cold look. “It never gets easier, no matter how long I do it. I feel like a failure when I can’t help them, even when I did everything I possibly could to save their lives. During those times, I run to your mother, not away. I know you’re having a hard time, but don’t push your best friend away.”
I propped my chin against my hand and gave him an annoyed expression. “I appreciate the advice, but I’m in my thirties now—”
“And when you’re an old man and I’m a super-old man, I’m still gonna give you shit. Because I love you no matter what your age is. Don’t fuck this up with Emerson, alright? She’s good for you.”
“I’m not fucking it up, Dad. I just need some space, that’s all. Just until Monday is over.”
He studied me for a while. “Let’s say this rocket fails—which it won’t—what does it matter? No one is on board.”
“It matters because I haven’t had a failed rocket since the Odyssey, and I’m not going to start now. If I make a mistake now, I’ll make a mistake later, and that means someone will die. It matters, Dad. Every little thing I do fucking matters. I don’t care if I’m human and I’m not God. That’s not an excuse. Doing my job is being one hundred percent right every single goddamn time.”
Dad just watched me, no longer angry, just subdued.
“I’m just really stressed out right now. Emerson knows I love her because I tell her every day. And she understands that no matter how happy I am, there will be difficult times. This is one of those times. I’m not pushing her away. I’m just being there for myself, which is reasonable.”
He didn’t have anything to say to that. “Everything will be fine, little man. And whether that rocket is a success or it fails, I’m still proud of you, nonetheless. I can’t believe you’re my son sometimes.”
I dropped my gaze, touched by what he said. “Thanks, Dad.”
“And I don’t mean that because you’re a rocket scientist or a best-selling author. I mean that because you care so much. You care more than anyone else. I love that you care.”
“I care because you care, Dad.”
“I know.” He gave a slight smile. “And that makes me feel like I did my job as a father.”
“You did.”
He stared at his beer for a while, letting the silence trickle by. “Lately, you’ve reminded me of the affectionate boy you used to be, and I guess I’ve enjoyed that so much that I don’t want to lose it. So, when you’re withdrawn like this, it makes me afraid I’m going to lose you…when I just got you back.”
I bowed my head, hearing the emotion in his voice. “You aren’t going to lose me, Dad. I’m still here. Just a little overwhelmed is all.”On Sunday morning, I was back to my work, contemplating if I should drive to the lab and physically inspect the rocket myself. I intended to get there at five tomorrow so I could have some quiet time to examine everything again…even though there was nothing I could really do about it other than cancel the launch.
A knock sounded on the door.
It was probably my dad, back with more beer and deep talks. I opened the door and found Emerson and Lizzie standing there, holding trays of food. They both smiled like they were so happy to see me.
I was in just my sweatpants, and I immediately felt weird being shirtless in front of her daughter, but there was nothing I could do about it now. My eyes shifted back and forth between them, unsure what was happening.
Emerson pulled back the foil covering the dish. “We made you pumpkin spice pancakes.”
“And tater tots,” Lizzie said. “With some scrambled eggs and bacon.”
I was put on the spot and didn’t know how to react, so I pulled myself together. “Thank you.”
“We thought we could just drop these off, so you have something to eat while you work.” Emerson handed me the tray, which I was able to hold in a single hand. Lizzie placed the other in my other hand.