“Yeah. Sorry. I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute,” I tell him before tapping my phone. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
“Hey, Sebastian. I just wanted to check that you made it home from Denver okay. Any travel issues? I swear every day there’s some report on the news about problems at all the airports.”
Smiling, I casually stroll away from the people still lingering outside the chapel. “The flight was delayed a few hours, but I hung out in the airline lounge, had something to eat, and just relaxed.”
“Why didn’t you just plan on arriving later? You could have slept in.”
“Everything was on time when I left the hotel yesterday morning. We even boarded and sat on the plane for almost an hour before they told us we had to deplane.”
“Wow. Was it a mechanical issue?” Dad’s an aerospace engineer, so he has a vested interest in all things pertaining to flying.
“No, it was all weather related. Personally, I think they were being overly cautious about the storms and I appreciate it. There’s nothing worse than dealing with heavy turbulence and being confined to your seat for a long flight.”
“That’s true,” he agrees. “I’m sure you were glad to sleep in your own bed last night. Three weeks away is a long time. When do you leave on your next assignment?”
“Actually, I’m heading out of town with some friends tomorrow. We’ll be at the coast for two weeks.”
“Two weeks!” His bark of laughter comes with a hint of disbelief. “You rarely take that much time off. What’s going on? Are you okay? Is this because of Matt’s death? Maybe you should speak to a therapist.”
I know he’s just being like this because he’s my dad and he cares, but his answer to everything in the last few years is how I should speak to a therapist. And it’s not like I have anything really heavy that I’m dealing with; he’s just got it in his mind how important it is to take care of your mental health.
He’s had to sit through a lot of seminars on the subject lately because my mom—who is a high school guidance counselor—always insists on taking him to the ones she’s required to go to. Her reasoning is that it’s good for everyone to be aware of their feelings and their struggles. That has trickled down to every conversation I have with them.
Am I tired from working long hours? I should talk to someone.
Am I frustrated because a job is taking longer than it should or things aren’t working out the way I thought? I should talk to someone.
My girlfriend broke up with me because I’m always traveling for work? Well, yeah, that one I probably should have, but it was a year ago and I’m fine.
Really.
We dated for a year, but I can honestly say that we only saw each other once a month.
I’m sure a therapist would ask why I’m traveling so much and if I’m trying to avoid anything in my personal life. The answer? I’m not. But right now, I’m just at a really great place in my career and making a name for myself, so I need to work as much as possible.
“Seb? You still there? Did I lose you?”
“What? Oh, sorry. I’m standing outside the chapel and got distracted.”
“The funeral’s today?”
“It just ended. The burial is private, so I’m waiting to see what the guys are planning on doing. I thought maybe we could go and raise a glass to Matt.”
“That would be nice. Such a shame. He was so young.”
I nod, swallowing a lump of emotion even as it threatens to choke me.
“So, when are we going to see you? I know you’re heading out of town, but what about when you get back? Maybe two weeks from Sunday? Will that work? We’ll grill some burgers and invite your grandparents over so they all can see you. Is that okay? No pressure. Really. Whatever works for you.”
There’s such a thing as being overly agreeable, and that’s Dad. He hates to make waves or feel like he’s forcing you to do things you might not want to do.
“Dad, I just saw everyone last month. It’s not like I’ve been gone for that long,” I tease. “But yeah, that will work.”
“Are you sure? Because I can…”
“Dad?” I quickly interrupt.
“Hmm?”
