There comes a time in everyone's life
When all you can see are the years passing by
And I have made up my mind that those days are gone
Rascal Flatts "I'm Moving On"
John didn't like Father's Day, hadn't for a long time. It was another obligation, one more chance for he and his dad to go thru the motions and pretend they had something that resembled a relationship -- not that it worked. The last Father's Day with his dad had consisted of a phone call between them that lasted all of five minutes. His dad asked how school was and John danced around the question, John asked how work was and his father grumbled out some vague reply. He asked how his mom was and John replied "Still hates you." His dad gave a wry laugh and changed the subject. The conversation ended shortly after.
The next time they spoke it was about four months later at another obligation - Thanksgiving at his Aunt Jan's. He had told his father that he had failed his last semester and had decided not to go back to college. His dad was pissed and the two had celebrated the holiday with a traditional Thanksgiving screaming match. It ended with John telling him "You haven't been a real father to me for a long time so do me a favor and stay the fuck out of my life!" His father's only reply was "fine."
That was a little more than two years ago.
He was now back at his Aunt Jan's. He had come up here to get away from all the craziness in LA. He couldn't go back to his mom's, she still had reporters begging her for interviews all wanting to tell the story of the man "who saved LA from a nuclear bomb" -- his father.
Still couldn't believe it. When his dad had him arrested and brought into CTU, when he told John he was dying he thought they'd have more time. He'd meet up with him again and they'd hang out or something. Truth be told, he really couldn't see either of them hanging out or attempting a serious conversation without it turning into a fight but he had wanted to try.
John shouldn't be angry at him, at the man who's "selfless sacrifice" saved the city of LA. He shouldn't be angry at him for that "faithful dedication" to his job that took him away one more time. But he was. He was angry at him for putting his job first. Angry at him for not trying harder to understand and angry at himself for not doing the same. Angry for all the time they wasted.
It was raining again, John had forgotten how much it rained in Seattle. He had to get out of here, he needed to go somewhere and sort things out. He always wanted to go to somewhere cool like Australia or Brazil. When he was younger he had wanted to become a photographer for National Geographic, just travel the world and take pictures. He wasn't interested in news photography but maybe something more art-oriented. His dad had known about his interest and had bought him his Nokia that he still used. But he told him to go to school and get a degree in something that "might actually be useful." John knew his father had hated his job and that what the Vice-president had referred to as "faithful dedication" was closer to "apathetic acceptance." He didn't want that life and he knew his dad wouldn't want that life for him.
When he was a kid and they did celebrate Father's Day - really celebrated it not just some bullshit phone call -- he had always bought his dad a tie or some other useless trinket. Just some generic "Dad" gift. Maybe instead of just going through the motions without any understanding or thought, instead of fulfilling another obligation he could actually try and honor his dad by doing something with his life. Proved that sometimes what his dad had said had gotten thru his "thick skull."
He had the money now and there was nothing stopping him. He could travel the world, take pictures and really try his hand at photography instead of just talking about it.
He was going to take that trip.