Perfect Bastard (Mason Creek)

The drive went better than I’d thought. The weather had remained dry. My Porsche navigated the roads as easy as a Ford F-250, which was my dad’s preferred vehicle. When I arrived at Mountain Lodge Senior Care and Retirement Facility, I was as impressed as I’d been when I toured the place before putting my father here.

Dad had a one-bedroom apartment with a kitchenette, which I’d selected because of his diminishing mental state. A part of the package included a nurse who would check on him daily, and twenty-four-hour care was also available if needed.

After being checked in, I was given the go-ahead to pass through the security doors to enter the senior living part of the compound. They had homes and apartments for all levels of need.

I took an elevator up in Dad’s condo-style building and made my way to his door. After a knock, his grumbling voice could be heard muffled through the door, saying, “I’m coming.”

The door opened, but I had to push it all the way open to step in. Dad was already retreating to the easy chair I’d brought from the ranch. I closed the door and walked down the short hallway that opened into the living room. He ignored me in favor of the TV.

“Dad,” I said.

He didn’t react, but he’d heard. The tightening of his jaw was sign enough.

It was another minute before he spoke. “You can leave the same way you came.”

Something broke in me when he didn’t even look my way. The twelve-year-old boy who’d looked up to his father like he was a superhero came out when I said, “Dad.” The word cracked as I spoke it. “I just want to know how you’re doing.”

His head slowly swiveled my way. Eyes that used to be warm were empty. That I’m proud of you, son look he used to give me after each of my Little League baseball games was gone. “How do you think I’m doing, Nathaniel? I’m here against my will, put here by my very own son.”

“Dad—”

“Don’t bother to tell me all the reasons you put me here. I supposedly left the gate open on the pen and the horses got out. I fed the cattle lye, which is a lie. I didn’t pay the bills. And nothing I say will make you believe I didn’t do any of it.”

There had been witnesses to the first and the checks Dad said he’d mailed had never been cashed. The house had been in disrepair. With no livestock left and the business in ruins, I’d had no choice. He blamed me, but my brother had also agreed. He’d been the one to file for emergency guardianship over Dad. Only my brother had named me custodian. Thus, Dad blamed me for it all.

“Your mother would be ashamed of you.” That jab hit where it was meant to. Mom had died a few years ago from what the local doc had called a widowmaker heart attack. “As far as I’m concerned, I only have one son now. Best you leave. And don’t come back unless you’re taking me home.”

He shifted his gaze back to the TV. Everything else I tried to say fell on deaf ears. I hung my head and left, heavy with the burden that I’d broken my father more than Mom’s death had. But what choice did I have? The ranch house was uninhabitable until major repairs were done.

I didn’t remember the drive back to Mason’s Creek or how I ended up at Pony Up. The pub was owned by Aiden’s wife, Emma. My best friend had won the lottery with her. He’d crushed on her for so long before he’d finally won her.

Luckily, neither she nor Aiden were there. I filled the hole left by my parents with a couple of fingers of whiskey before I switched to beer. I was watching an NFL game playing on one of the many screens in the bar when Cinderella walked in.

TWO

Avery

Waking up in my childhood bedroom felt like the failure it was. I had to remind myself that I was here because I wanted to be. After my parents’ divorce, my father had done little for himself besides get up and go to work. He didn’t know how to cook and wasn’t taking care of himself. Despite being a shit husband, he’d been a great dad. And living with him gave me an opportunity to pursue my dreams while saving money.

My phone rang, and my best friend Haley’s picture popped up on the screen.

“Hay-lee,” I sing-songed. “How are you doing this morning?”

My bestie was a single mom and rarely got a night out, but her mom, out of nowhere, had offered to watch her daughter. “My head is killing me,” Haley said.

After stupidly going on stage and singing duet after duet with the hottest guy I’d seen in quite some time, I’d spotted Haley giving some guy googly eyes. I’d made a beeline in her direction to put a stop to that before it was too late.