Daniel's house did not sell quickly. It was on the market for three months before a young couple who were planning to have a large family made an offer that was acceptable, if quite a bit lower than the asking price. The Victorian had been Hawkeye's childhood home, and he hated the thought of strangers moving into it, but there was nothing he could do about that. Life moved on.
He visited his father nearly every day in the home, and it was a weight off his mind to know that his pop had constant care, which was becoming more and more essential as his memory faded.
Hawkeye started to interview prospective partners for his practice, but he could tell it was going to be a long and painful search. Apart from being overworked, he could feel his life smoothing out in the aftermath of his dad's health crisis. He kept his work hours as close to 8 to 5 as possible. He'd go home to Aphrodite and, usually, a take-out supper. He dated every now and then—still careful not to allow any woman to get too close—but most of his free nights were spent visiting Daniel. On occasional Saturdays, he'd take his dad out for an afternoon of fishing.
When he phoned B.J., which was still often, they danced around the subject of B.J.'s marriage. Hawkeye would ask, "How is everything?" and that was meant to be an invitation to B.J. to unburden his soul, if he wanted to. But B.J. would always reply, "Good, we're doing good," and that would be the end of that. Erin would ask B.J. if she could talk to Uncle Hawkeye, and so he'd let her, and for a few minutes Hawkeye would hear all about Erin's new doll or her latest trip to the park. "When are you coming to visit again, Hawkeye?" she'd ask. And he didn't want to lie to his favorite little girl, so he'd tell her, "I don't know, Erin. Things are a little crazy right now. But I'm always thinking about you, sweetie. I'm always missing you."
One evening when he was visiting his dad and they were attempting to play a game of checkers (his dad could no longer remember how to play chess), Daniel said, apropos of nothing, "I want you to be happy, Hawkeye."
Hawkeye lifted his eyes from the board. "What makes you think I'm not, Dad?"
Daniel, mostly coherent on this night, replied with, "Are you?"
And because he'd never been able to lie to his dad, Hawkeye said, "I don't think so, no."
His dad put a hand on top of Hawkeye's. "Find happiness, son."
"Just like that, huh?"
A small smile came to Daniel's face. "Ask yourself what you want, because deep down inside, you know."
"Suppose what I want is something I can't have. How does happiness come out of that?"
His father paused for a long moment, then leaned in and said confidentially, "We had meatloaf tonight, and tapioca pudding for dessert."
It took Hawkeye a second to realize that his dad was not talking in metaphors; his train of thought had derailed and instead of continuing their conversation, he was reciting his supper menu. Hawkeye hadn't known how tense he'd been, waiting for the old man's words of wisdom, until he felt his shoulders drop. He had to laugh. Daniel had been downright profound… up until the dementia took over. Story of my life. Just when I think I'm going to get answers to life's great mysteries, somebody starts to talk nonsense.
"King me," his dad said.
"Yes sir," Hawkeye said, and did.