A dirty martini. Just hearing the words leave his mouth enveloped me in memories of us as a family. As soon as he'd come home from work, before even looking at my mother, he'd look for his drink. She made sure to always have it ready for him. More important than dinner on the table was the drink in his hand. He needed something to settle his nerves after a long day of dealing with patients. I understood early on my father lost his love for what he did. Before I decided not to be a doctor, before Jamie and the divorce. He lost it when he decided money was more important than people. And he wanted the same unfulfilling life for me. Prick. "Now then," he smiled. "Where were we?" I looked away. I hadn't asked this man for anything in years. Even before he broke the father/ son bond, I wanted to prove my independence and did my best to break free from needing anything from my mother or him. Yet here I was about to lay down my pride at his feet.
