Wrestling with Hope
DH Starr
MM Romance Contemporary & Erotic
Release Date: 10.07.19
Blurb
Forced to move from place to place, never setting down roots, robbed Scott Thayer of any thread of stability during his childhood. No matter how hard he tried, he could never please his distant and judgmental father. If his own father couldn’t love him, who could?
Two years after last setting eyes on the man whose approval he’d never win, he’s found a good life, attending college, become a star on the wrestling team, built a home with his lover Derek, and surrounded himself with people who love him.
An unexpected note from his father, saying, “I want to see you,” turns Scott’s world upside down. Why, after all this time, does the man want back into his life, just when Scott’s wounds have begun to heal? Should he risk his happiness and peace of mind to accept the invitation from someone who’d left him so damaged?
Or will he finally find closure and slam the door on his pain and never look back?
Friday. The day before his first meet. The day he’d agreed to have lunch with his dad between classes. The waves of nausea grew stronger the closer he got to Bean Town Beef. Why he thought a burger and fries would be a good choice for him or his father was beyond him.
Mechanical steps, paced, anything to distract him from seeing his dad. Soon enough he’d have to release control and submit to whatever happened over lunch, but at least he could maintain as cool a head as possible until then.
Even before he opened the door, he spotted his father sitting at a window table, eyes trained on the hands folded in front of him. After a second, he looked up and immediately straightened his posture. He raised one hand tentatively. Was that a wave? Seemed more like an involuntary spasm.
Scott gripped the door handle and pulled. Rip off the Band-Aid. He approached the host. “I’m meeting someone.” The host nodded and focused on something on the computer screen in front of him.
Despite the conversations and clink of silverware on plates filling the room, Scott could still hear the phoom-phoom-phoom of blood rushing behind his ears, his heart racing; totally opposite from the slow motion of his steps.
His father looked smaller than he had a week earlier. Weaker. How could Scott confront a sick man, demanding explanations for a lifetime of inflicted pain?
“The seat won’t bite.” His father’s voice cut through the haze of rushing thoughts.
Scott slid onto the chair opposite his father. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Dad said on a slight chuckle. “You look pretty wound up. Something on your mind?”
Be real. Be honest. Derek’s voice chimed in Scott’s head, coaching him, letting Scott know he wasn’t alone. “How are you? You look―” Ice formed in Scott’s lungs. What should he say? You look like shit?
Dad spared him having to finish his sentence. “Like a man with cancer.” The smile lifting his father’s lips conflicted with the words he’d spoken.
“Well, yeah.” With the topic on the table, Scott found breathing slightly less difficult.
“I had a chemo treatment two days ago. Be glad you didn’t see me yesterday.” He grimaced, but only for a second. “Anyways. What’s going on with you?”
No. You don’t get to drop a grenade and then switch topics on me. “What’s it like? The chemo, I mean.”
A slight crinkle formed between his father’s eyes. He studied his hands before lifting his head and facing Scott. “It’s like the worst flu sickness you can imagine. Or food poisoning. Remember when you were a kid, maybe ten or eleven, and you ate the turkey sandwich I’d left out?”
“Yeah.” How could he forget? He hadn’t known about salmonella back then and spent three days hurling his guts, but he remembered the worried expression on his father’s face. The glasses of ginger ale Dad brought him in the middle of the night and the way his father remained by his bedside until Scott fell asleep.
“I’d take that times ten compared to chemo.”
Wow. He’d come to lunch even when he probably longed for the comfort of bed. “Maybe you should rest instead of having lunch with me.”
“No. I want to spend time with you. Don’t be surprised when all I order is toast and tea.” He glanced around the area. “This seems like a hot spot for you college students. Do you come here often?”
“Not often enough.” Scott slung his arm over the back of his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Derek loves it, but we usually head to Cambridge for home-cooked meals.”
“Sounds nice.”
Scott examined his father’s face. Lips in a flat line. Eyes focused, but not lively. Hands resting on the table. Be real. Yeah, easier said than done. “Um, can I ask you some questions about…um―”
“The cancer?” His dad made the conversation easier than Scott had anticipated. “Ask anything you like.”
“Are you scared?”
Dad’s eyes softened as he reclined back in his chair, the first sign of relaxing since Scott’s arrival. “What a compassionate question and a hard one to answer. On one level, of course I’m scared. I’m young. I’ve left so many things unfinished. So many mistakes to corr―” He cut himself off and broke eye contact, peering at the table.
He cleared his throat and lifted his head, returning his attention to Scott. “On the other hand, it’s been liberating. Knowing I have this thing that could cut my plans short has helped me reprioritize.”
Those words coming from someone else would inspire admiration and respect, but his father wasn’t just anyone. He’d caused Scott to suffer over and over again. The dominant emotion Scott could recall was one of disapproval. Disapproval of his grades, of his attitude, of everything.
“I don’t know what to say.” Good, Scott. Keep it real. He squirmed, the hard wood of the chair unyielding against his gluts.
“I don’t expect you to say anything. Do you have any other questions?”
Millions. None. “Is chemo as bad as they show on TV?” What a fucking stupid question. He wished he could pull the words back into his mouth.
“Again, good question. Chemo’s different for everyone. I’ve been pretty lucky.” He rubbed his head. “I still have what little hair I’ve got left and other than a day of feeling sick, the main side effect is exhaustion.”
Too weird. He’d spent his first eighteen years fearing the man and the last two years hating him, yet there sat his dad, weak, open, and vulnerable. The two men, the father from Scott’s youth and the one with him now weren’t the same people. Why couldn’t his dad have figured out he wanted to make amends without facing death?
D.H. Starr is an educator by day and an author at heart.
Writing erotic romance in any genre and young adult stories as well, he likes to explore the emotions of discovering oneself while also allowing someone else into your heart as well. His style has been called angsty at times, and he takes pride in torturing his poor protagonists, making them work for their happily ever after.