He nodded again…and Dax’s reaction was justified. His father was slumped in the red armchair next to a plastic potted plant, staring into space. He had no hair left, but he had a big belly. His skin was saggy, his eyes were tired, and he kept picking at the pompoms on a pillow that he had placed on his lap, as if he thought it was a cow’s udder.
“He doesn’t look good,” Dax muttered sheepishly.
“No,” Jack admitted quietly. “But I don’t care. I’m still angry with him, Dax. I have so much hatred for him, even though he’s going to die soon. Even though he deserves nothing but pity. So, no, I can’t control my anger. I…don’t seem to have any control over anything.”
He searched Dax’s face, waiting for his brother to finally understand what was so wrong about him— but Dax just smiled broadly. “I still hate my father too, Jack.”
“What?”
Dax shrugged. “For me, indifference never meant that I wasn’t angry with him anymore, it simply meant that he no longer occupied my thoughts every second. That it no longer made me bitter and sucked the joy out of my life. But if I met him on the street, he would probably be on the ground just as quickly as Mäkelä was today. It’s okay that you’re still angry with him.” He shrugged. “He was a lousy dad. You can’t forget things like that.”
Jack stared at him, his mouth open. “But look at him, Dax! He’s a miserable pile of rubble.”
“Yeah, sure. But you’re not angry at the demented old man. You’re angry at the bastard he used to be. There’s a difference. And, to be honest, I envy you a little.”
“What?” Jack asked, flabbergasted.
“Well, you have a chance here that I’ll probably never get. At least you can talk to a halfway reasonable version of your father. You couldn’t have said a word to your old dad without your head exploding. But with this one…maybe you can. Stay angry at the old version, the one who can’t make up for what he did to you in a hundred lifetimes, and talk to this one. Then you’ll have some kind of relationship with a version of your father. That’s better than having none at all, believe me.”
Jack’s whole body suddenly stiffened. “But how? How do I talk to him?”
“By opening your mouth. Wait, I’ll show you.” The next moment, Dax crossed the room and sat on one of the chairs opposite Jack’s father. “Hey, Mr. West,” he said, crossing his legs. “We’re here to visit you.”
The old man frowned and looked at Dax critically. “I don’t know you. How do you know my name?”
“From him, over there,” Dax said, pointing to Jack.
His father turned and narrowed his eyes, but didn’t seem to be able to see Jack properly. So, Jack gritted his teeth andwalked slowly across the room. “Hey…Dad,” he said quietly when he reached him and sank down next to Dax.
“Dad?” his father replied, astonished, before laughing. “My dear, you have me confused with someone else. I have a son, but my boy isn’t even five years old!”
“Really?” Dax asked, leaning forward. “What’s your son like?”
“Oh, he’s a talented hockey player,” Mr. West Senior replied immediately. He sounded proud. Jack, however, couldn’t remember him ever having been proud. “Already a high-flyer.”
“Hm,” Dax uttered, “but surely not as good as Dax Temple?”
“Dax who?” his father replied.
Jack suppressed a smile. “Not important at all,” he replied hastily. “What…what else does your son do?”
“Not much, I don’t think…” he said, bowing his head. “To be honest, I don’t see him enough. But he’s…he’s strong. And smart. Counts my beer bottles better than I do.” He laughed again…and the knot in Jack’s chest loosened a little.
It was oddly simple. All he had to do was stop trying to be a son but rather be a stranger, someone keeping this man company for a while. Dax was right. He couldn’t forgive his father. He should have known from the beginning that it was an impossible undertaking. But could he still build some kind of relationship with him? A completely new relationship that had nothing to do with the old one?
The son Jack might only have heard that his father drank too much. The stranger Jack, however, heard that Mr. West was proud. It wasn’t much…but at least it wassomething.
They spent another half hour with Mr. West – not his father, but Mr. West – before walking back to Jack’s car. The sun was shining on their faces and Jack felt strangely light. It was okay tobe angry with his old life, with the man who had raised him so miserably. And it was also okay to just leave that part of his life behind. Not to forget, but just…to start over.
“Thanks, Dax,” he murmured, opening the car. “You know, Penny told me to just tell you but…I couldn’t get it out. So thank you for making it easier for me.”
“Hm. Smart woman, that Penny,” Dax said, clicking his tongue. “Makes me wonder why she ignores you so thoroughly that you feel compelled to knock down a hockey player to get her attention.”
He snorted. “That’s definitely not why I knocked him down! Besides…” He sighed. “She’s afraid she won’t get the job if there’s a scandal following her.”
“It’s a valid concern.”
“Yes. I also believe she thinks she’s doing me a favor by staying away from me.”
