Chapter 1
“You did what now?!”
I hear him sigh “Kiddo, listen…”
“No! You can’t just…”
What do I want to say? “Do that”? He just did. “Do that without asking me first? He did just that too.
What I really want to tell him is “You can’t just give up”, but that’s too loaded. I’m not ready for that.
Now it’s my turn to sigh “Dad…”
“I know, I know, Em” and his tone tells me he is aware of what I’m not willing to say. “Can you… could you be here tomorrow? Or tonight if you want? Your bed is ready”.
I don’t even have to think about it.
“Gimme 4 hours, Dad”.
I hear the relief in his “Good. Meet me at the pub, I’ll make something to eat”.
In the car, stuck in traffic, I’m still fuming. I’m 33, for heaven’s sake, and every time I settle, something happens and I have to start anew somewhere else. Now I’m finally sitting still: I found this beautiful apartment not too far from Lyon, with no lift, but hey, walking keeps you young and it offers a beautiful view of the small town, the valley, cut in two by a gorgeous river. 2 hours driving from my father. Far enough to keep my independence, close enough to see him as often as I can, that is, when I’m not working too hard.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love the man. He is a great dad, always has been. My mother left him when he stopped touring with the band, realising she liked him better gone than at home. She met a new man and lives somewhere in the south of Spain, or Portugal, I’m not even sure, with her new husband, whatever his name is. I don’t care.
She's always resented me, hell if I know why. I ate on time, always got what I needed growing up, but she didn’t like me, barely spoke to me and never took any interest in my life. The laughter, hugs and love you’s, all came from my father when he was at home. I think he never realised how cold she was with me. But hey, I had a great dad. Renowned musician, the band touring all over France and sometimes even abroad, he took me everywhere when I didn’t have school, and always took a day off to visit the town we were in, showing me its castle, its church, its history. I had a rich childhood, made of learning and curiosity.
After he came home for good, mother took a whole month to call it quits and left without telling him. I was just waking up, saw her roll a huge suitcase behind her and with a “He’s all yours”, she left. I never heard anything from her again, it’s the baker next door, whose wife was friends with her, who told me she remarried.
Anyway, the band stopped touring when I was still young, their drummer got sick and he had to be home and resting.
Their guitarist took the music shop over, a few streets farther from here, and my father bought a house in town, and the small café and studio next door to it. He transformed the café into the only pub in town. He changed everything, reopened the condemned fireplace, added a small podium and a loft, and changed the standard wooden tables and chairs for leather lounge chairs and coffee tables, giving the whole thing a cosy as hell atmosphere. When I was a teen, sitting beside the fireplace with a book and a glass of cider was my favorite thing to do.
And now the pub is mine. At least, that’s what he just told me.
Hence, me stuck in traffic, angry, and if I’m honest, worried. My father doesn't know how to stop, so for him to call me and tell me he’s not feeling it anymore, retiring and leaving me the pub makes me anxious.
For now, I’m still 2 hours away, stuck in my car, it’s raining and I have to pee. Uugh, this day sucks.
I thought I’d arrive with daylight, but no such luck. After being stuck in traffic for almost 2 hours, I stopped at a gas station to pee, buy a cup of coffee before taking the road again. Only to be stuck, once out of the highway, behind a huge tractor carrying crates and crates of apples, driving 30 where you can go 80. How do I know it was carrying apples? Because the dude looked at his phone, of course, swerved too much against the rail, his trailer tipped, and the tons of apples, snuggly crated against each other so far, saw their chance to escape and roll all over the road. And I got stuck between the trailer, lying down like a dying elephant, the tractor tilted on one side in the middle of the road, pointing in the other direction, and the 30 or so cars that were trailing behind mine. After calling for emergencies and berating the tractor driver, a kid stammering that yes, he understood but his girlfriend texted him, a kid who had no business driving that heavy shit, the only thing I could do was waiting for the police to come, then for the road services truck to come and clean the road, then wait again for a police agent to come to my car, ask me what happened, take painfully slow notes on a tablet before asking for my signature.
All in all, I’m not a very happy customer when I finally park my car under the porch, slam the door and stamp toward the pub next door. I haven’t had any lunch, my 2 hours trip took almost 8 fucking hours, my eyes burn, and I have to pee again. And I’ll have to work late tonight to make up for lost time, I have a deadline.
~
But I challenge you to open the door of this particular pub and stay in a bad mood. Soft blues in the background, the scents of beer and apple cider warm, but not overwhelming, the fireplace is blazing, and the bestest of the bestest dad waiting for me, arms open and a huge smile on his face. I glance at his face quickly, noticing dark circles under his eyes, before accepting the hug. Eyes closed, breathing in the familiar smell of his cologne, the scratch of his woollen sweater on my cheek, I’m home.
Sitting back with his eyes shiny, he beams “So good to see you kiddo” and I can’t help but smile “I was here 3 weeks ago, dad”.
“Even if I saw you everyday, it’d be good to see you Em. Now, ready to eat? I made a potato casserole. And your favorite apple pie”.
I’m happy to sit and eat, and let my father take his time to tell me whatever he wants to tell me. I observe him a lot, but except for the fact that he seems tired, he looks good. And happy to chat about anything and everything. He tells me about his weekend at Dean’s, the only very English and last very much alive member of their band next to my dad “He’s a writer now, and you should see the house he just bought, it’s huge. I told him not to go senile in his old age or he’ll get lost in his own house”.
I’m full. I was hungry and I ate too much. But my father is a good cook and he makes a mean apple pie, you can’t say no to an apple pie!
So I’m sitting backwards, feeling full and kinda dreamy. It was a tiring day and I’m all warm and snug, the fire heating the back of my chair, and I close my eyes just for a second… to jump when a door slams shut with a loud bang.
My father chuckles at my blinking eyes.
“Hi James, I’m just done checking the receipts, it’s all done. Oh hi Em” and I look up. And up again.
I mean, the man is huge and I’m sitting on a low leather chair.
“Hi Ben!”.
I stand up, and give the grinning man a hug.
Benoît, my father’s shadow since he was 20 something.
“Ben, would you mind making us 3 an Irish coffee please? And come and sit with us?”
Ben, always a man of few words, just nods and walks away.
“Dad…”
He holds his hands up, asking me to wait “Let’s just give Ben the time, I want him here with us when we talk”.
“Holy shit, Ben, you went heavy on the Irish. I’m lucky I don’t have to drive back”. The man just grins, winks, and sits back, legs stretched, and looks at my dad expectantly. I take a second to look at him, thinking about the lanky kid he was in our youth. We were classmates for years, and he came to my dad to work as a barman as soon as he was 18, first in the summer and weekends. They took a liking to each other and became very close. Ben is like a son to my dad, and I’m glad and thankful for it. I know he would have never stopped me, but seeing me going away to study, then work in England for a while before coming back to France, but in Paris, was hard on my father. We were close and having his only daughter so far away... He never complained about it but I know he missed me a lot. Because I missed him just the same.
Anyway, Ben was there, and after he graduated from his business class, my father made him manager of the pub. Besides being my father’s best friend now, he does a wonderful job and the pub is thriving.
And the lanky shy kid is no longer. Ben still isn’t a chatty box, but adulthood and, I suppose, hours at the gym did him good. His arms are strong, his chest is broad and his long legs seem snug in his jeans. The soft face is still the same, but the jaw is strong, the chin high and the beautiful grey eyes observing. When he looks at you without speaking with these grey eyes, you feel like an insect pinned on a scientist table. That is, until he smiles. Then his eyes wrinkle, and 2 dimples make his face boyish again.
For now, stretched and looking relaxed, he’s looking at the fire, and waits for my father to be ready to talk.
—
“Right, let’s get to it”
I tense. “Dad…”
Hands up again he says “Em, please, let me… just let me”
Ben nods, and watches me for a short second.
“Em, you know I’ve been complaining of being so tired the last few months right?”
“No actually dad I don’t. That’s the thing. It’s Ben you’ve been complaining to, not me. Because even 3 weeks ago when I came here you didn’t say anything to me about being tired. That’s why I was so shocked this morning. What’s going on? What did you say about leaving the pub?”
My father sighs, rubs his face in his hand for a second and now I see how tired he really is. He just hid it well so far. So far I was worried. And irritated. Now he’s starting to scare me.
“Dad?”
“I’m sorry kiddo, I thought I had told you… I didn't want to worry you too much”
“You’re worrying me now. Just spit it out. Please”
Ben stretches a leg, nudging my father’s foot with his, and nods. After a deep breath, my father sits up “Ok, Em, here it comes. I went to the doctor a few weeks ago, because I felt constantly exhausted all the time. I sleep well, I eat well but I’m feeling .. weak, tired, I keep on forgetting things, so well… they did some tests, it seems my heart is a bit tired. Nothing bad!” He adds with his hand up, stopping me from saying anything “I just have to take it easy. The doctor told me I could live old if I took it easy, so, there’s that”.
Ben’s shuffling tells me it’s not all, so I keep waiting.
“The thing is… the thing is that it didn’t explain the memory loss, or the cramps in my legs I seem to have since 6 months ago give or take, so they did more tests. And diagnosed me with Parkinson’s disease”.
I’m stunned. Like punched in the chest and kicked in the head stunned.
“Parkinson? But Dad it’s…”
He holds another hand up “It’s no reason to panic, Em. It is what it is. It will follow its course, and if I take it easy and take care of myself, I still have many many years to enjoy life, and you 2 kiddos”.
I hear Ben swallowing hard, and see his foot bouncing on the other, the only signs telling me I’m not the only one hurting. He asks my dad “So… what now?”
My father shrugs “Well, Ben, it’s what I told you this morning. You’re still the manager, together with Emily. She’s the new owner, you keep on doing your job and…”
“NO”
“Em, kiddo…”
“No, dad, you don’t get to drop a bomb like that and kiddo me. You don’t get to make me manager, I already have a job, Dad! And whatever you’ve decided, it’s not fair to Ben! He’s been working with you for 15 years, dad! 15 fucking years! And then you're telling us we’re both managers and that’s it?”
I stand up and pace. Ben calls my name “Em..” and I turn to him “And you’re ok with all this?”
He shrugs “Not my place to decide” and I curse.
My father stands up and reaches out “Emily please…” and now I see how dark the circles are, under his eyes.
Sighing, I sit back down “Okay… I’m sorry Ben”
He shakes his head “We’re good” and I can’t help a smile. “Gee, Ben, stop talking for a second, you'll wear my ears out” and the tension is gone. Ben winks at me, and my father chuckles.
“Em, the first thing I did was to think about you 2 kiddos. The pub is your inheritance, you can sell it if you want, of course. I know you have a job, a good one at that, and I’m proud of what you achieved so far. You know I am”.
Ben scoffs “If you don’t know, I’ll remind you. James never stops telling everyone ready to listen how proud he is of his daughter the artist” as if he found the habit tremendously annoying, but the easy grin tells us it’s a lie and my father laughs “I won’t even try to deny it”.
He looks at me, serious once more. “ You are my daughter and the pub is yours, it’s only right. I thought about selling it and giving you both your share, but Em you love this place as much as we do, and it didn’t feel right.”
“You’re right about that, I don’t want to sell it. I just don’t think it’s fair to Ben, that’s it. And I’m not sure how to combine this to my current job, or even what I can contribute as a manager, I mean Ben, you run this show for so long. I don’t want to do things that I don’t know about or make decisions contrary to yours. I don’t want to make your job difficult by being your co-manager and your boss, that doesn’t feel right, you know??”
He shrugs “Jame’s your dad”
“Yeah, okay, but you’re the one that stayed with him all these years, Ben, I know how close you 2 are and…”
My father is following the exchange with a smile and beams at me. “I had an inkling you would react like this, and I have another proposition for you, Em. I told you this morning we would go to the notary at the end of this week to transfer ownership of the pub to you. But I asked to have other documents ready to leave you the choice: we can also choose to make the ownership a partnership, and have Ben as your official partner. Or…” . He lifts his hand up, stopping Ben from jumping in. “Or we make you both owners”
I look at Ben, who’s frowning at the floor like the carpet insulted him deeply, and shrug “Personally, I like this better. We’ll have to think about it. Ben?”
“I’m good either way, it’s up to you”
I’m ready to retort but my father stands up and stretches “All right, kids, we’ll discuss it tomorrow, I’d like to hit the sack now, you younglings can talk”
He rubs Ben’s hair, earning himself a sweet smile I, for one, had never seen on Ben’s face, kisses my hair, and with a wave, leaves.
“Jesus fucking Christ…”
Ben chuckles “Trust the man to drop a bomb on your lap and go to bed. You all right Em?”
“To tell you the truth I don’t know what I am, right now. Worried? Scared? Pissed off? Tired? All of the above?”
“Makes sense…”
After a short silence, both of us staring at the flames, he asks “Wanna drink something else?”
I hesitate for a second “Ah what the hell, I won’t be able to work now anyway. Hit me with something warm”.
“Irish coffee again?”
“Yeah. Only a bit less Irish, this time please, I’d like to wake up without a hangover tomorrow, there'll be enough to think about”.
He chuckles “True, that. Irish not so Irish coming right up” and busies himself behind the bar.
I take this time to look at him, really look at him. Despite his large size, he moves like a cat, in silence and in smooth easy movements that betrays a man sitting well in his own skin. The hesitant look he had in our youth is gone, he is quiet but has this presence around him, I can’t grasp it but there’s something… dare I say ‘powerful’ about him?
Hell I don’t know, but next to the fact I always liked him, I love his friendship with my father, he is a solid guy to have around.
“Here you go, a weak Irish for you, lightweight”
I giggle, I didn’t expect a joke right now. “Lightweight? I’ll drink you under the table one day, Ben”.
He scoffs “Yeah, right”.
“Ben… What are we gonna do?”
He stretches his long legs again, shrugs, and looks at the flame. After the longest time, he starts “It’s not my pl…” and I cut right into it “Ben, please… Don’t tell me it’s not your place. I know you mean it but I disagree. You’ve been running this place since the day you came in, let’s be honest, Dad loves his pub but he has no fucking clue about the cost of things or how to do his own bookkeeping. He would have gone belly up ages ago if it was not for you”.
After a pause, he says “Ok, fair”.
“So, you must have an opinion on this, you can’t tell me you threw your heart and soul for more than a decade in this business, be the friend and the son you are to my father, and not feel anything about what should happen now”
He looks up sharply “Son?”
“Yes, Ben, he loves you like a son. Hell, he even calls you ‘son’, once in a while”.
“I thought it was…”
I shake my head “No it’s not. Think about it for a second, do you know him to give endearment names to anyone? Except for me and you?”
Another pause “You’re right”.
“I know”.
“No, about me loving the place, I mean”.
“Ok, good, so talk to me. Imagine you don’t have to take me into account: your boss tells you he’s selling the place to someone else and you’ll keep on being the manager. But next to that, he offers you a partnership, or even to co-own the place. What would you love to do?”
He hesitates. “Ben. Cut the bullshit and the guilt. What would you like the most?”
He chuckles “You’re tough. Short. But tough”
He bursts out laughing when I stammer “I’’m… I’m not short! You’re fucking huge!”, and seriously, ponders “I think… I think I like both ideas, actually. I’m not even sure if there is a difference between these 2”.
I shrug “Me either, but we can ask Dad, tomorrow. There’s still a lot to talk about”.
“Sure is. But you’d be ok with one of these options?”
“Yeah, Ben, more than ok even. The way I see it, this business is only Dad’s on paper, you run the show.”
“Not James’ anymore. Your’s”
I sigh “Yeah… shit”
A chuckle, a moment of silence.. “Yeah…You’re right. Shit…”
–
After cleaning the pub, putting our cups away, we close shop and I walk under the porch, ready to go home, Ben right behind me. I’m thinking for a second he just walks me home, to be sure, before I see him get keys from his pocket and open the front door. Oh, he has keys. Well, it makes sense, he works with my father, he takes care of him in a way, of course he has keys.
When he mutters “After you, shorty” and closes the door behind him, he looks at my surprised face “Of course, he didn’t tell you this either”.
“Tell me what?”
“I live here now, Em. My landlord kicked me out 3 weeks ago. He wants to renovate the apartment for his daughter. Your father told me to bunk here”.
