Sushi and sniffles

I was nervous to see Dad. Although we've been talking on the phone fairly often, I didn't know what to expect from the man I'd uninvited to my birthday weekend back in May. What should a parent do in these cases? What should an adult do? I wasn't sure where we'd go with any of it.

Dad was politely close-lipped about the apartment, letting me tell him what I knew he was seeing. His only input was a quiet, "It would only cost your landlord $300 to have that window taken care of." I watched his eyes take in the mold, the chipping linoleum, the bedroom I occupy stacked high with boxes, its shattered window. He merely suggested we visit Lil Pea before dinner. I happily agreed.

We went to sushi after, as I thought it would be a treat for a landlocked Rochesterian. Dad was a little ornery; tired, dehydrated, and not in the mood to make decisions. He ordered quickly, a little terse with the waitress. I held myself back from my usual placating reflexes, tried to let him lead. In my head, I kept telling myself, "He looks fine. He is fine. He didn't order drinks. He's trying to show me he's fine."

He told me, slowly, about home, how it's been with Mom, the war with the insurance company. He said, "Mom told me the other day that we are both going through this, but separately, and we should be going through it together." My Mom had told me this, too. She said she'd felt better after the conversation. My Dad continued to say, "I don't think she realizes that there's barely enough of me to go around. We have to do it separately."

He seemed to suddenly wake up from this conversation, turned it on me, asked about my new roommates, my plans for nannying, my thoughts for other work, my Masshealth issues, all of that. I found that I couldn't talk about any of it without tearing up a little. I tried to swallow it and couldn't, and ended up just sitting there, not responding, feeling like a twelve-year-old version of myself, desperately wanting to say something that would ease him. I just said, "I'm handling it." He paid the check and we left. He insisted on walking me to my door (I think he was a little lost without that walk), gave me a big hug, and promised that we would have dinner once a week while he's working in New England.

Doesn't he know? I moved away on purpose.