Meeting Mr. Mogul(3)

He looked at me for a second and then looked down at my hand. It took  him another moment to shake it. "Good. We have a deal." I was silent for  a moment then I continued, "So, who is she?" I asked directly before he  could sidetrack me.

He looked at me, thrown off by my sudden question. And then, not really  sure why, he exploded in laugher. I looked at him in confusion.

"Why are you laughing?" I asked by the time his laughter died down.

"Why do you assume I'm with a girl? Is it because I dress up like this?" he asked, still chuckling.

"Wait - what?" I asked, not sure where the topic was going. Fortunately,  I wasn't that dense. "You're gay?" I asked bluntly, stunned at this  sudden revelation.

"Why do you sound surprised?" Terry asked as he eyed me with his eyebrow raised.

"But you dress like a guy …  you ride a motorcycle-you wear leather for  goodness sake! And you act and eat like a dude," I said in disbelief,  trying to think of some signs that told me he was gay. However, nothing  comes to mind except for one thing. "So that's why you never hit on me!"  I was surprised that the realization only dawned on me at that moment.

"Of all the things you could have noticed, you just had to point that  one out." Terry shook his head in disappointment, though his eyes  gleamed in amusement.

"So, who is he?" I asked after gaining full recovery from that shock.

"Wow. You got over that really fast, didn't you?" Terry mumbled before  he took a deep breath, his awful mood had returned. "We had a fight  before you moved here. I told him about you and well … " he trailed off as  he choked on his words.

"So, you've been moping around for a month because of me. And you just thought to tell me this after all this time."

"Well, you were the one who wanted to know," he countered. He looked at me like I was the one at fault.

"So, you guys just ignored the issue and haven't talked about it at all?" I asked, ignoring his attempt to sidetrack me.

"He's very stubborn sometimes," Terry confided, covering his face with  his hands and rubbed it in annoyance. "So, that's what's up with me. How  about you?" he asked after recovering from his mood.

"Me?" I asked, alarmed by his sudden change of topic. "Well, in truth,  I'm an open book. You already know why I'm here and about my financial  problems. What else do you want to know?"

"True," Terry agreed with a nod of his head. "Which brings an end to our  conversation. And, from the looks of it, you have to go," he added as  he glanced at the clock above the television.   





 

I followed his gaze and stood up immediately. It was almost noon by the  time I realized I should have left earlier. "Shoot!" I grabbed my bag  and jacket in a hurry.

"Do you want me to take you there?" Terry offered, but he stayed on the couch looking unaffected by my frantic rush.

"No. You just rest and keep yourself sober until work tonight," I  replied, and paused from rushing around to give him a warning look.

"Yes, mother. I will do as you ordered," he said monotonously like an errant child.

"Well, I've got to go darling." I said in a fake British accent as I  walked towards the door. "Don't whore around without me!" I added.

I heard him burst in laughter before I closed the door behind me. As I  walked towards the bus stop, I thought about the conversation I had with  Terry. I never expected him to be gay, but to each his own. It was  refreshing to understand someone more and more each day. I shoved the  thought aside when the bus finally arrived.





The ride to the hospital took longer than usual. It was almost noon.  That time of day that could be rush hour for people who were having an  early lunch or a late breakfast. By the time I reached my stop, my  stomach growled in hunger. So, I stopped by the nearest fast food chain  and grabbed some lunch and dessert - a gift for later. After I finished  my meal, the walk to the hospital was quick and short.

When I reached the fourth floor of the hospital building, I gave the  attending nurse a brief nod of acknowledgment. It has been a month since  my father was admitted here. A few of the staff on his floor had gotten  familiar with me, especially the nurse assigned to take care of my  father.

"Hey, Andy. How are things?" The nurse, Patty, asked when she saw me.

"Everything is well. How is he?" I asked, giving her a small smile.

"He is doing well, but still the same," she replied softly, looking  slightly sympathetic for a second before she recovered with a smile.  "He's been waiting for you."

"Yeah, I kind of promised him I'd be early today, but the traffic was bad," I explained.

She smiled at my words and nodded without replying. I said my goodbye  after that and walked on. Upon reaching his room, I softly knocked on  his door before entering.

"Hey, Dad," I greeted as I entered. I overheard voices when I came in,  which became softer by the time I was inside. I knew then that he was  tuning in to a show. "What are you watching?" I asked as I strolled  towards the empty table and chair across the door.

"What took you so long? Did something happen?" he asked, his voice thick with worry.

"Sorry I was late. The traffic was bad. I also woke up late since we had  a busy night," I lied smoothly as I took out the food from the paper  bags. "Do you want a burger, spaghetti, or just a sandwich?" I asked.

"Are you trying to avoid the subject?" he asked, ignoring my question as he stared me down.

"No. Why would I?" I snorted in denial.

"I'll have the sandwich then. I already had lunch a few minutes ago," he  said, dropping the topic, which made me sigh inside in relief.

I handed him the packed sandwich before I began eating my burger. We ate  our meal in silence as we watched some reruns on TV. The crunching  sound as we chewed our food and the voices in the television were what  kept the room from being too silent. When we were finished eating, we  both stayed quiet for a while until the show finished.

"How's work?" he asked, finally breaking the silence.

"It's good. Terry has been very helpful," I replied with a smile. "Did  you know he was gay?" I asked, my smile widening as I recalled our  conversation this morning.

"I think Billy told me that in passing," he replied unsurely. "Are you  enjoying your job?" he asked next, dropping the previous topic straight  away.

"Yes …  I think I am," I replied quietly, having a hard time trying to  sound convincing. I felt bad that I lied to him. He has enough problems  to deal with already. I don't want to burden him anymore than I have to.

He looked at me intently for a second, like he was trying to see through  me. But I stood my ground and gave him a small smile of reassurance. I  knew he would never stop looking out for me - even on his deathbed.   





 

But before he could inquire any further, the door suddenly opened, and a  man in a white coat came in. It was one of my father's doctors who  routinely checked on him. He looked young for someone working in this  stressful environment. He had dark brown curly hair, which matched the  color of his eyes, and had a medium build. He always had a ready smile  and welcoming aura every time I visited my father. Dr. Logan Stanley,  one of the men whom I should be thankful for in this time of hardship,  checked on him (and for your information, I wasn't into him).

"Mr. Peterson, how are you doing today?" he asked my dad as he walked towards the bed.

"I'm doing well, Doctor Stanley. As you can see, I have my daughter  right here," he responded proudly and gave the doctor a beaming smile.

"Ms. Peterson, did your father do something again?" Logan asked, turning to look at me with a knowing gaze.

"Sorry. I gave him a sandwich, which is against his diet, but he really wanted to eat it," I admitted with a hint of shame.

Logan laughed at my reply. "You sound like you just admitted to  committing a crime. As long as you clear it with the nurse next time, we  should be okay from now on," he chortled.

Embarrassed by my actions, I nodded with my cheeks flushed. I kept quiet  and tried to stay out of the way, as Logan checked on my father. When  he was finished, he excused himself without any more comments and left  us with a short ‘See you tomorrow'. He was sometimes a man of few words.

At around four in the afternoon, I stood up from my chair. We usually  spend our afternoons like this, watching reruns and engaging in small  talk about going back home. I know that he missed it, like I do, but he  didn't show it as much. Like father like daughter, I guess.

"Hey, Dad, I'm going now. I still have to get ready for work tonight," I said before giving him a light kiss on the cheek.

For the first time since I walked in the room, I looked at his face  clearly. He looked too old for someone who was in his mid-fifties. His  hair was a mix of grey and white and his face was wrinkly and dry. He  looked sick - really sick. With a silent cry, I kissed him again on the  cheek and gave him a long hug, which he reciprocated weakly. There was  hardly any strength in his arms. I knew he understood my actions without  having to say anything. His welfare is what kept me going after all  that had happened. After all, he was all that I had left.