Egomaniac

“Who the fuck are these people?” Roman was sitting on the balcony of my apartment in the dark, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette, when I snuck out to escape for a few minutes.

“Maybe you’d know if you were inside instead of out here.” I took the seat beside him and stared out into the sea of lights that was New York City. “It’s fucking freezing.”

“Did you see the tits on that blonde with the blue sweater?”

“That’s Sage. One of Alexa’s new friends.”

“She ain’t the brightest bulb. I was joking around and told her I could tell her age by feeling her up.”

“Don’t tell me she let you grope her?”

The end of Roman’s cigarette illuminated bright red as he took a long drag. “Yep. After I copped a good feel, she asked me when she was born.” He blew out a string of smoke rings. “I told her yesterday and came to sit out here.”

I chuckled. Fucking Roman. He either got smacked or lucky, and sometimes I wondered which one he actually liked better. “Yeah. Alexa has a knack for picking choice friends.”

“Looks like she’s settled into New York okay, at least.”

From the outside, at least tonight, it would appear that way. This was certainly better than her going out alone last year, followed by a huge fight to kick off the new year when I’d questioned her about the guy who’d driven her home. This year, our home was filled with all of the friends she’d made over the last four months since we moved to New York from Atlanta. But the truth was, she still bitched daily about leaving her friends behind.

“She’s made some friends. Mostly from the acting class she’s taking and the gym. I was hoping she’d find friends who have more in common with her—maybe some of the ladies from Mommy and Me, but she says they’re all sweater-wearing, stuffy bitches.”

“If those sweaters are anything like the blonde’s, I might be borrowing your kid to take a Mommy and Me class.”

We were both quiet for a few minutes, enjoying the peace of a clear night. Roman’s voice was serious when he spoke again. “How’s AJ doing?”

AJ was my father’s nickname, short for Andrew Jagger. Neither of us used our given name—I was always Drew, and he was always AJ. “Not good. It’s spread to a lung now. Looks like they’re going to have to remove a piece.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry, friend. AJ’s too damn young for this shit.”

Four months ago my father had gone to the doctor for an annual physical and his blood work revealed his liver enzymes were off. Two days later he was diagnosed with liver cancer. Even though the statistics weren’t on his side—a fifteen percent five-year survival rate from diagnosis—he was optimistic. He’d endured months of high-dose chemo that made him sick as a dog, only to be told the day after he finished the last round that the cancer had metastasized to his lung.

“Yeah. I’m glad I could be here for him. He’s got a shitload of friends and business associates, but without a wife taking care of him, I needed to be back in New York.”

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming back.”

“I think that was Alexa’s plan.”

I’d always intended to come back to New York to work with my father in his practice. After I passed the bar, Alexa had begged me to stay in Atlanta one more year. It meant having to take a second bar exam, but I was trying to make her happy while she was adjusting to motherhood. So we agreed to stay in Atlanta for one year. One turned into two, and until my dad got sick, I think it was Alexa’s plan to keep asking for one more year.

“She’s adjusting. She likes the shopping and has decided to take some acting classes. Apparently that’s something she’s always wanted to do, but never mentioned until she signed up for the first class.” I shrugged. “Whatever, it keeps her happy.”

Roman looked at me. “What about you? She keep you happy?”

“She’s a good mother.”

“So is my mother. But that doesn’t mean I want to fuck her and spend the rest of my life hanging out with her.”

“You have a unique way of looking at shit.”

“I’m banging a yoga instructor; she’s into all that introspective crap.”

“I’m sure that’s why you’re with her. Not because she can lift her leg over her own shoulder.”

“The only time she shuts the hell up and stops trying to enlighten me with useless wisdom is when I have her legs over her shoulders. My dick acts like a stopper in a bathtub full of wisdom quotes.”

I chuckled and stood, smacking my friend on the back. “Come on, let’s go back to the party. I’m freezing my balls off, and I want to check on Beck. It’s getting pretty loud in there.”

Navigating through the growing party, I made my way to my little boy’s room. So damn sweet—he even smiled in his sleep. Okay, so maybe it was a twitch, but his mouth relaxed and then jumped to a grin every few seconds. He must have been dreaming about his racecars and grapes, his two favorite things the last few months. I pulled the cover up to his chin and ran my fingers over his soft cheeks. God, I’d never dreamed I could love anyone in the world so much. My heart clenched in my chest momentarily as I wondered if my own father had looked at me the same way twenty-some-odd years ago. I needed my dad to get better. I wanted him to get to know my son and guide me to be the kind of father he was to me.

I wasn’t a religious guy—the last time I’d been in church was my shotgun wedding to Alexa. And before that, probably a funeral. But a small cross hung over my son’s crib. I looked at it every day, but never really saw it as more than a decoration.

It couldn’t hurt to try.

Standing beside Beck’s crib, I said a small prayer for God to watch over my father and my son.

We’d been back in New York for four months, and that cross had hung on the wall next to his crib the entire time. But when I opened the door to go back to the party, the thing fell to the ground.

I hoped that wasn’t a sign.