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Meddling – Patrick 2
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Our exchange was awkward, but he's finally listening to me. I don't know what exactly Robin said to him, but it's like Noah is a man transformed. At my request he's actually clocking out and going back to his hotel room to rest. Well, okay, he's not exactly obeying since I told him to go stay in my guest room and that I would take him, but I'm not going to pick a fight over a small detail like that, yet.
I stand watching him turn off his computer and organize the papers on his desk. I'm sure he thinks I'm hovering to make sure he keeps his word, but actually there's something that I'm wanting to ask him. Something not so much to do with him as much as it has to do with me. With Robin. I know I'm frowning when my father looks up at me.
"What?"
I'm surprised by the question. Maybe I'm not as hard to read as I thought.
I toy with the pen in my hand and struggle to figure out what it is I need to know. Maybe there are just too many questions? And not enough time. He needs to go rest, take his pain medication and rest. "I should drive you back to the hotel so you can take your medication right away."
"It's only a few blocks away, Patrick. I can manage to walk and then take what I need to take. That's not what was on your mind just then."
I don't say anything. Still can't find the words. I should have definitely gotten more sleep last night. Maybe I can get some sleep before dinner tonight? Otherwise this date is going to be a bust. At the thought of the word date I can feel myself smile.
"Patrick?"
I shove my pen into the pocket of my coat and look up at my dad. "Robin asked me out to dinner tonight. A date." What am I? Fifteen?
"Are you worried about that?"
"Why would I be worried?" I scowl at him. What a stupid question.
"Because she's not a floozy."
"Floozy?" The word makes me laugh. There's definitely a generational gap here, at least in terms of lingo. My father, however, seems much less concerned with the exact wording and more so with the point he wants to make.
"There's nothing casual about you going out again with a woman like Doctor Robin Scorpio. Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"What the hell do you mean by that?" A spear of rage hardens my voice.
"She was just your patient. She was just deathly ill. She just found out her father was alive and lost him again." He stops and looks away. Something in his face stops me from responding sharply to his recitation of facts. I wait. "What made me change my mind was seeing the pain and devastation in her eyes, in the shake of her hands, as she spoke to me on your behalf. I couldn't leave you with that. Again."
I remember the tears on her cheeks when she came to find me. I was so caught up in my own relief and lust I didn't give them another thought. I am such a selfish bastard.
"She was speaking to her own father. She."
"What? She what?" my voice is harsh still, but this time in anger at myself.
"Since her own father isn't here to ask, I'll ask for him. What are your intentions towards Robin?"
That wasn't what he was going to say, I can tell. Once again I feel like I'm being let off the hook. It's actually starting to piss me off. Why the hell do they think they have to do that?
"Actually, her father did ask me that before he left." I don't tell him what I said. I'm not ready to say it to my own father.
"Interesting." He tilts his head at me. Why do I get the feeling he knows what I said and that all the years we've been apart haven't dimmed his knowledge of me while I feel I don't know him at all? I'm not certain whether I feel more disturbed or comforted by the that.
"What's interesting? He does care about her, even if his." Now, I stop. I don't want to get into this. Any of it. "You need to go rest. I'll let you know when you need to come in for testing." Speaking of which, Robin was supposed to come tell us when she was done. Where was she?
I didn't see him approaching me; consequently, I'm startled by his hand clasping my shoulder. Our eyes lock and I suddenly feel like I'm twelve and my father is about to give me "the talk" again. I didn't need it then, but I have a sinking feeling I must just need it now.
"Be careful with her, Patrick."
"She's not delicate, believe me." I've never met anyone strong, truth be told.
"She's definitely not that. But she's very vulnerable. And you, well, you're not used to dealing with women like her." His wistful smile is like a punch in the gut. I don't need for him to tell me what and who he was thinking of. My mother had told me the story of my father's pathetic courtship of her a million times when I was growing up. He pretty much did everything wrong and still won the girl in the end. My mother made it very clear, though, that it hadn't been easy and suddenly remembering it as an adult I bet it was not without pain. Pain that I don't want to inflict on Robin. My father's right. Huh. I haven't thought that in more years than I can count.
"I'll be careful," I promise him.