"About time," William Goren growled.
"Nice to see you, too, Dad."
"Woulda been nice to see you last week, when I almost died."
"I was working, Dad. C'mon."
"They don't let you off when your old man's in the hospital?"
Bobby shrugged. "It was a tough case, okay? You got your stuff?"
"I'm wearin' it."
"Papers?"
"Yeah, let's go." He got up and within a few steps was already breathing hard.
Bobby slowed his pace, a touch of compassion breaking through the everpresent annoyance with his father. "What happened, anyway?"
"I don't know. I guess my sugar got high."
Bobby frowned. "You gotta take better care of yourself."
"Look, I do my best."
The younger man walked the older one all the way to the car before he spoke again. "Maybe… maybe it's time," Bobby said with a shrug, "you know, to get some help with things."
"What, you got a pile of cash somewhere you forgot to tell me about?"
Bobby closed the door for his father, circled the car and closed himself in on the driver's side. The brief walk had allowed him to let loose a few curses. "I just think you need help, all right? And you know, you're paying a mortgage on that place, you could use that money to—"
"You want me to give up my house?! Are you out of your fucking mind?!"
Bobby's attention snapped to his father, as it always did when the man's anger reached this level. "No, Dad. I'm not. You can't take care of yourself. A nice, you know, home somewhere, and you'd have people to help you round the clock."
"Fuck that. You find a way to send some cute little nurse over to my house, and we'll talk." The old man scoffed. "A fucking nursing home. What do you think I am, decrepit?!"
Bobby scowled and bit the inside of his cheek. "I don't like to see you like this," he admitted quietly.
The old man didn't appear to hear him. "You don't want to have to bother with me, you mean," he barked.
"Dad!"
"No, I know, Bobby. You're young, handsome, full of promise. Your career's taking off, you got the whole world ahead of you. You don't need me weighing you down."
Now Bobby was furious. "That's what you think. That's it, is it? That I'm so fucking selfish I don't want to take care of my own father?"
William Goren smiled at his son. "I was like you once."
Bobby lowered his head. The last thing he wanted was to be like his lying, cheating, gambling-addicted father.
"It's all about you right now," William continued. He bumped Bobby's elbow and smiled, "And it should be. The whole world's ahead of you."
They rode for a moment in silence.
"How's your mother?"
Bobby glanced over at him in surprise. It always surprised him with his father asked about his mother. Always. "Sh-sh-she's, you know, she's…" he shrugged, "She's Mom."
"That bad, is it?" William looked out the window. "You take care of her, son. God knows she needs it."
At the house, Bobby supported his father as he got out of the car. Again, his compassionate nature was stirred. He helped the man inside, got him settled in his easy chair.
"Look, Dad, I, uh… I gotta go. You got a phone close by, right?"
"Yeah."
"You take your pills yet?"
"They're over there."
"I'll get them for you." The younger man retrieved the pill case, reorganized it and brought it to his father. Then he brought a can of diet soda. "You need anything else?"
William Goren was quiet a moment. He stared at the muted television screen, but his words were directed at his son. "You catch the bastards?"
"Wha-?"
"The drug dealers or whatever?"
"Yeah. Yeah, we did."
The old man nodded, and allowed his eyes to flit across his son's face before returning to the glow of the tv screen. "I'm proud of you."
Bobby's heart stopped in his chest. His left hand rubbed mindlessly against his ribs. "Uh… thanks." It seemed like what he was supposed to say.
The old man said nothing more. He unmuted the TV and the room was filled with the shouting of a game show audience.
Bobby ran his hand through his hair, then reached out and patted his father's shoulder. "I'll come by tomorrow night, okay?"
The old man nodded. "Yeah."
Lewis paged, and Bobby returned the call. He wanted to get together for a drink. Bobby paced the length of his mother's kitchen and tossed the idea around in his head. "Maybe just come over here," he finally said. "Ma's, you know, I think I shouldn't leave her for long."
Lewis understood, as always. An hour later, he was walking into the house shoving a fresh bottle of scotch against Bobby's gut.
Goren smiled and gave Lewis a warm pat on the back. "Thanks, man."
"Don't forget to share," Lewis told him. He followed his friend to the kitchen and sat in a chair while Bobby prepared two glasses of the whiskey.
"How's the shop?" Bobby asked. Lewis had started his own business, an auto shop, a year and a half ago.
"Slow and steady," his friend replied. "I finally hired a girl to do the billing, so that helped a lot. She orders parts and supplies for us, too."
"A girl?" Goren asked with a raised eyebrow.
Lewis scoffed. "Nah, she's engaged, man. Nice girl, though. And she's doing a hell of a job." Goren raised his glass and Lewis saw the nasty bruise on his arm. "Bobby, what the hell? You get that on the job?"
Bobby followed Lewis' eye gaze and glanced at his arm, remembering. "No, uh, Mom, she thought I was breaking in, uh, when I came home."
Lewis was always a little surprised when he found out what Bobby's family was like. Instead of commenting on how wrong it was, he said simply, "And you think she needs taking care of."
The two men chuckled.
"How's your Dad?"
"I took him home. He's, you know, he's Dad." Bobby took another drink and motioned towards his friend with his glass. "Lewis, thanks for looking after them when I was under."
Lewis shrugged off the thanks and adjusted his chair. "What was it like for you, undercover?"
"About what I thought. There was a seasoned Detective there, he was damned good. I learned a lot." Bobby paused, took another drink, and then continued. "I almost got caught making the calls," he said, frowning.
"Shit."
Bobby chewed on his cheek for a moment. "I'll, you know, I'll just have to find a better way next time."
"Or maybe you should leave it to me and not call at all."
Bobby glanced up, in the direction of his mother's bedroom. "I c-can't. You know what that would do to her?"
Lewis frowned and nodded. He took a long drink of his whiskey.