“How did you do this?” I couldn’t believe she got my Dad to come down.
“It was mostly Jim’s idea. I invited everyone, but he let us have the place for free.” Jim was looking at us with a huge smile. Most of the room had gone back to chatting, and the café’s music came back up. I was never a huge fan of parties, but this was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. I felt like I was near tears, and had to take a deep breath to steady myself.
“You’re amazing, Darc. Thank you so much,” I managed.
“Oh don’t cry, you big baby. You deserve it,” she said, laughing.
I thanked her again, and then made a beeline to my Dad. He looked thin, thinner than he did last week. His nurse, Jasmine, stood behind his chair, all smiles. He was hooked up to his oxygen machine, but was wearing his nicest suit. I bent down to hug him as hard as I could without hurting him. He felt so thin in my arms, and I couldn’t help but remember the Dad from when I was young, all tall and broad shoulders and gruff stubble.
“I’m proud of you, Amy,” he said in my ear.
“Thanks Dad. I’m so glad you came down.”
I pulled back and he was grinning. “Yeah, me too. Tough gettin’ around these days. Philly’s kindof a craphole anymore, too.”
“Yeah Dad, not like in your day. Really going to seed.”
“Gone to seed, you mean. Anyway, city’s always been a hole. It’s just a new kind of hole.”
Typical of my Dad. He was always grouchy, even before the lung cancer. He spent most of his time working when we were young, but he did his best to make time for us. He was a good Dad, despite all the problems in his life. Despite all the problems we had caused him. But he still loved us, and always made sure we knew it.
“Congratulations on your app, Amy,” Jasmine said.
“Thanks Jasmine. And thanks for bringing this lazy guy,” I said.
“Hey, I tried to walk here, but she was stubborn.”
We laughed, and he looked uncomfortable being center of attention.
“Yo Amy, congrats millionaire,” came a voice behind me. I turned around and saw John, my oldest brother.
“John!” I said, and wrapped him in a hug. We had gotten much closer in the last few years. Our middle brother, Derek, was going through some issues, and was currently somewhere out near Reading. We didn’t really know what Derek was up to most of the time, but it was probably drug related, whatever it was. Meanwhile, John was a pretty successful accountant, and tried his best to take care of the family. Mostly Derek, these days, but he was a huge help when I was a student in New York with barely enough money to feed myself, and he pays a big chunk of Dad’s medical bills.
“So, what are you doing with your first mil?”
“Well, I’m not a millionaire. But I’m paying off my student loans.”
“Smart girl,” he said.
The night went smoothly. Dad left early because he was tired, but it was amazing he even made the trip down at all. Jim let my friends bring beer and wine, and things got fuzzy, as they usually did. Toward the end of the night, I found myself at a table with Jim, Darcy, and John, the rest of the partying having cleared out.
“So how’d you do it, anyway?” Darcy asked me.
“What do you mean?”
“How’d you, like, make an app? And sell it?”
I shrugged. “I worked hard, mostly. Some luck. It was lucky that the app was found by Adstringo and bought out. But mostly I didn’t do anything other than make the app.”
“That’s not luck, Amy,” Jim said. “You’re the most talented person here. We all know it.” He was pretty drunk, and was leaning on the tabletop.
“Thanks Jim. I try, I guess.” He was looking at me intently, in a way I didn’t recognized.
“You guess? You’re amazing, Amy. You’re awesome. Sold an app, working for your dream company. Living the life. I think you’re amazing,” he said. He kept staring at me, and an awkward lull fell over the table.
“Alright, I think it’s time to call it,” John said, breaking the silence, and patted Jim on the back. Darcy laughed.
“What, I’m just sayin’,” Jim protested, but he let John stand him up.
“I’ll get him home. You two clean up.” John led Jim outside and into the cool fall night. Darcy laughed again.
“He has a huge crush on you, you know,” she said.
“No he doesn’t, we’re just friends. And he’s my boss. Or was my boss.”
It still hadn’t sunk in that I was no longer a minimum wage barista at a Swirl Café. I would never have to fill another coffee for a rude customer. I would never have to clean a spill or deal with impatient people. It was liberating.