It had gotten so late that anywhere decent that sold food was closed. Andrews sulked back to his room with a luke-warm burrito from the gas station, something he never imagined he would ever eat. Desperate times call for desperate measures. He was desperate for food. He'd regained his composure once he'd stepped outside the hotel, turning to politely ask Margaret to just give him some silence. She'd agreed. He was surprised she'd agreed, but glad for it. Now, as he walked back to his room, he was wondering if she'd be waiting at his door.
Thankfully, she wasn't waiting. She didn't appear to be waiting anywhere. He sighed, opened his door, and he flung the meager meal onto the small table. It landed by the sad salad Margaret had brought him. After running his hand through his hair, he looked around and decided to eat something before it tasted any worse. With the television still on the sports channel, he sat down and opened up his food.
Andrew was on his second bite when a knock came at the door. He groaned and thought about not answering it, but knowing the annoyance would not go away, he decided to deal with it head on tonight. It was late, and he didn't have the energy to get into things.
"Not tonight!" Andrew said with force yet not yelling due to being in a small motel.
"Andrew, open the door," he heard, this time the voice different than the one he'd expected. Andrew sighed, groaned slightly, and he stood, walking like a defeated child as he stepped to the door. Answering it was not an option now, not with HIM at the door.
"Dad, I'm not in the mood," he snapped, gesturing wildly with his hand, unsure of where Margaret was, but knowing that she had to be lurking.
His dad gave him a disgusted look and waved at him, "Do you seriously think I am here to talk about Maggie?"
"Margaret," Andrew replied through gritted teeth. "You know her name."
"Sorry," he waved again, his hand still in mid-air. "That's the last thing I want to discuss. I'm not getting involved in that."
"Really?" Andrew looked to him with raised eyebrows in total surprise. "Funny because you were set on getting in the middle of things last year when we were up here."
"Look, Andrew," his dad said as he sighed and paused. "Am I crazy about her? No," he said shaking his head. "Am I crazy about you working as a book editor-because yes, at least it's respectable enough now to say an editor? No. Do I really get a say in anything in your personal life? No, that has been made clear. Leave her. Take her back. It's not something you'd take any advice from me."
"Dad," Andrew broke in, "why are you here?"
Joe turned toward Andrew, and he shrugged, "Easy. Your mother thinks I am here trying to fix things. I'm not a fixer. Sure, I might have meddled before, and I had cause to do so. She wasn't what she, what you both, presented. You were in the middle of a scheme. I'm here to tell you to figure it out because having to listen to your mother go on and on about it, to even cry about some idea that she's now never going to have grandchildren and knows you both are too stubborn and immature to figure this out-that's why I'm here. I'm here because I don't want to have you upsetting your mother."
Andrew, who had a confused expression on his face, took in what his dad was saying, trying to really determine the reason for his dad at the door. "Why does Mom assume that all hope is lost for me? Why is she jumping to some idea that she'll never have grandchildren?"
Joe, who had his hand resting on the door frame now, stood up and stepped back, lightly smacking at the frame as he started to step away. He used his index finger to point at Andrew as he walked down the small, narrow, now quiet hallway, "She knows you and knows you are making a mistake."
With that, Joe walked away, the four doors down to his own room. Andrew stood in the doorway totally confused, and still wondering exactly what his dad had been doing in coming to his room. He ran his hand through his hair, and he turned back to his room, shutting the door as he stepped back into the room.
Somehow, he still felt as if he was being blamed for Margaret taking off last year, and as much as he was trying to bury the past, he felt like it was continuing to haunt him. So, now, how was he supposed to bury this mess once and for all?