Todd had played football long enough to see plenty of gruesome injuries: bones poking out of legs, arms bending in places arms should never bend, bloody faces behind shattered face shields. That didn’t mean he was prepared to see himself looking like this. And it was difficult to take Blair seriously when she said that she’d pretty much always planned on being the good looking one in their relationship, anyway.
It wasn’t until the third day that the doctors decided that Todd was steady enough in an upright position to visit his father. They hadn’t told him much about Peter’s latest heart attack, but Todd knew that it had to have been a bad one because Peter hadn’t been brought in to see Todd.
He worried even more when Blair came in to visit him and hour later than he’d expected.
“Where were you?” he whined. He figured that it was okay to whine for at least a week after your face exploded and you lost hearing in one ear.
Blair sat beside him, looking very serious. “Your father wanted to talk to me.”
That pissed Todd off in at least six different ways. “Why? Was it so he could tell you to stay away from me because all women are evil whores or was it so he could tell you what a loser I am and you should run while you have a chance?”
“Neither,” said Blair. “I mean, both of those things came up but I don’t think that that’s why he asked for me. I don’t know what the real reason is, but it’s something weird.”
“What makes you say that?” Todd sat up as much as the bed allowed. It was nice to be interested in something normal instead of medication, his father’s possible impending demise, and his own grotesque reflection.
“When I had an argument with him before—when he wouldn’t let me see you— I accused him of taking things from you.”
Todd thought he remembered that, but he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t been very with it at the time. It was a wonder that he’d managed to get out of his bed. “Okay,” he said slowly.
“Your father kept coming back to that. He didn’t really ask me straight out what I meant, but he mentioned it over and over. ‘Those things you say I took from my son’ or whatever. It was like he wanted to be sure what I did or didn’t know.”
“What do you know?”
Blair shook her head. “Nothing. All I meant was that he didn’t appreciate you like he should have. As proud as he was when you made some amazing play on the football field, that’s how proud he should have been all the time. When you made a mistake he should have helped you do better the next time instead of calling you names. You aren’t stupid, you know. You never have been. You should have had parents who told you that.”
“My mom did,” Todd said softly. “But he took her away, too. Even before she died, he wouldn’t let her see me. Just because he hated her and he hated me and he wanted to punish us both. Then, when she did died, the day after her funeral—literally the day after—he said he was going to work and he didn’t have time for a snot-nosed kid who was hanging around crying.”
Blair’s eyes widened and she took his hand. “That’s horrible.”
“He hated me because I reminded him of my mother. He hated her because she was a women. That’s Peter Manning: he hates women and he hates me.”
“Did he ever have a girlfriend after your mom left?”
Todd started to roll his eyes, then stopped as a jolt of pain shot through his head. “Dozens. He never kept them very long. He wouldn’t want to start seeing them as people or anything crazy like that. Sometimes one of them would be nice to me and he’d get rid of her right away. The smart ones, they pretended to be nice to me and then they’d laugh when he did his imitation of me crying.”
Blair kissed Todd’s hand. “He didn’t deserve you.”
“Doesn’t,” Todd corrected. “He’d not dead yet. He’s dying, isn’t he? He looked bad when you saw him?”
Blair nodded. “Real bad.”
He appreciated that she hadn’t whitewashed it. “So why would he care what you knew or didn’t know? If he’s dying anyway?”
“I don’t know,” said Blair. “But I know he was harping on it for a reason. He thought I wouldn’t notice in between him calling me a gold digger and saying you were an idiot, but I did.”
“How are you a gold digger? You have more money than I do.”
“Maybe that’s it.” Blair flashed him a bright, dizzying grin. “Remember how that first night we met, I told you that I dreamed of being a princess? Maybe you’re the wealthy prince of some exotic country—Mendorra or someplace. Maybe he kidnapped you at birth, and he thinks I know that and he’s afraid I want to help you reclaim your rightful place on the throne—”
“You really think this is the time for fairytales, Blair?”
Blair shrugged. “I don’t think there’s ever a bad time for fairytales.”
“So suppose your nice little story is true. How would you know? How could you possibly get that information?”
“I don’t know. Dorian knows a lot of people. Maybe he thinks she told me.”
“No. I know your aunt. She’d be working the angle herself, not letting you do it.”
“You’re probably right,” Blair admitted.
“I know my dad, too,” Todd said rapidly, warming to the subject. “If he thinks you know something, it isn’t for no reason. He’s a bastard a lot of the time, but he’s not stupid and he doesn’t give other people a lot of credit. Especially women-people. He doesn’t go in for big conspiracy theories like if X, Y, and Z all happened, maybe you could know.”
Blair considered that. “So if I’m right about how he’s acting, it’s not because I could hypothetically know something…”
“It’s because you do know something,” Todd completed. “Maybe not as much as he thinks you know. But you know something that is so simple that you don’t know you know it. It’s so close to home that you don’t even think about it.”
Blair puzzled over that for a moment. “Does he even know anything about me? Does he research the women you get involved with?”
Todd snorted with laughter. “No, he’d never bother. All he knows about you is your name and that I met you in Llanview.”
“Did your family have any connections to Llanview before you went to L.U.? Why did you go there?”
“Best football program that offered me a scholarship. Nothing more complicated than that.”
“Your dad doesn’t have any business contacts there?”
“Not as far as I know. He sucked up to Viki when he met her, but he always sucks up to people who are richer than he is.”
“Viki,” Blair murmured to herself. “Viki’s sister Tina, her mother’s name was Manning. Irene Manning. You’re sure she wasn’t a relative?”
“Not as far as I know.”
They tumbled through several more theories, but found nothing that Todd thought would have made Peter call Blair in to talk to him when he hadn’t asked for his own son. But then, it wouldn’t have surprised Todd to learn that his father had approached Blair for the express purpose of hurting Todd’s feelings.
“It doesn’t even matter,” he said to Blair after a while. “He’s not going to ask to see me anyway.”
“Why do you need his permission? Just go see him.”
“Like this?” Todd gestured at his bandaged face, suddenly keenly aware of it after a brief reprieve spent talking to Blair. “What if it gave him another heart attack?”
“It’s not as bad as you think it is,” Blair wheedled. “Just ask the nurses to take you to see him. It’s the only way you’ll ever know.”
***
“You’re sure it won’t kill him? Seeing me looking like Seth in The Fly? He’s just had a heart attack,” Todd asked as the nurses ordered him into a wheelchair he didn’t entirely need.
“You’re his son. He should see you,” one of them said.
“He’s not doing well. He’s weaker today than yesterday,” said the other nurse with real compassion. “He might not be able to talk to you, but since you can sit with him you should.”
As soon as they arrived at the room, the nurses retreated to give Todd and Peter privacy.
At first Todd wasn’t sure that Peter was even conscious, but then Peter moved and tried to speak.
“Don’t talk,” Todd said automatically. “Just listen.” He’d heard that enough the past few days when the doctors and Blair hadn’t wanted him to upset his bandages by opening his mouth. “You need to listen,” he added, made stronger by his own voice. “This might be the last time I ever talk to you.”
Peter’s silence seemed like acquiescence.
“You should know,” said Todd, “that I’m going to stay with Blair even though you don’t like her. I know you think I’m a screwup. And I have screwed up. But I’ve also been screwed. And I’ve been screwed by you.” It was strange to hear the words coming out of his mouth when for the past few years, really, things had been almost okay between them. Peter hadn’t threatened to disown Todd since Todd had implied that he wasn’t positive that he wanted to play professional football. Peter hadn’t really verbally eviscerated Todd since the night of the Spring Fling. And Peter hadn’t beat Todd, since, well… not since Todd had gotten bigger than Peter.
“Nothing was ever good enough for you, Dad,” Todd continued. “If I wanted to be your son, I had to be the biggest, the strongest, the toughest. The superstar. The bigshot. That’s a loser’s game, Dad. And I’m not playing any more. And I didn’t come here to ask you if that’s okay, or to tell you that I’m sorry, or anything. I don’t even care what you think. You’re not hurting me any more, and I just wanted to let you know that. And from here on in, I’m not just your son. I’m me. Just me.”
The only sound in the room was Peter’s labored breathing, amplified by the machines the helped him. Peter really did look terrible, just as Blair had warned. Todd stood up. He didn’t need to play any games or search for any secret information. He just needed to leave. He could feel tears pricking behind his eyes and he certainly wasn’t about to let them fall in Peter’s presence. “I can see that you need your rest,” he told Peter. He stood, ignoring the wheelchair, and made for the door.
To his shock, Peter’s hand closed around his wrist. “Todd.” He turned, disbelieving. “Please, don’t go. I don’t want to hurt you. I was so frightened when I heard that you’d been injured. I’m glad to see you on your feet again even if I know I’ll never be on mine. I won’t say I’m not concerned about your continued attachment to that… woman.”
“If this is gonna be another lecture about how Blair’s no good, I’m out of here,” Todd warned.
Peter signaled that this conversation would be different. Todd doubtfully let Peter speak. “You know, lying here, in a room like this, with a tube helping me breathe, listening to that machine count out my heartbeats, you look at me as though I’m different.” That was true, but Todd couldn’t quite respond. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the past. I was… I didn’t help you. I didn’t know how. I was a lousy father.”
Todd certainly hadn’t expected an admission like that. “That’s in the past. I’m trying to put all of that behind me.” He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, looking at Peter’s gray tinged face, that this was his last chance. “Blair can talk about those things that you took from me. I just want to move on.”
There was a flash of light in Peter’s dim eyes. “What did Blair tell you?”
Todd answered a question with a question, going on instinct alone. “Who was Irene Manning?”
Peter groaned against his breathing tube. “She was my cousin.”
Todd did his best to hide his surprise. “She had a kid with Victor Lord. Tina, her name is.”
“She had two children with Victor Lord,” Peter managed. “First Tina. Then, years later, a boy. She couldn’t raise him. Victor didn’t want her raising him. He didn’t want suspicion thrown on her and the child, although he had always wanted a son. He told Irene to get rid of the baby. Irene had a dear friend who couldn’t have children of her own, a woman named Bitsy who just so happened to be married to her cousin Peter.”
Todd’s knees went weak and he sank back into his wheelchair, head throbbing anew.
“I’ve never loved you like a son,” said Peter, his voice suddenly stronger. “Because you are not my son.”
Peter’s last rally had been just that-- his last. The monitors tracking his heart sped up; Peter writhed in pain on the bed. Todd called for the nurses, but they were already there, moving Todd aside with kindness, doing what they could for Peter. Peter groped for the drawer beside his bed over Todd’s objections.
“This is yours,” he told Todd passing him a key on a long chain.
Every alarm in the room went off as Peter’s body went rigid. He didn’t speak anymore.
Through tears, Todd found his way back to his room. Blair was waiting for him and she helped him into bed, then climbed up beside him and lay with her arms around him until he decided that it was time to tell her. “It’s over. I know you think it’s stupid that I’m crying even though I know he’s a jackass.”
“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Blair said. “All kids want to love their parents and want their parents to love them. Some day you’ll have a son who calls another jackass ‘Dad,’ and you’ll have to understand why he loves him even though the guy treated him like dirt on the bottom of his shoe, almost ruined him.”
Todd couldn’t understand how Blair could know a thing like that, but the world was so full of strange things that he didn’t question it. Instead, he held out the key for Blair’s inspection. “My legacy.”
“I suppose it doesn’t unlock a vault that reveals that you’re a prince?”
“Worse,” said Todd. “A Lord.”
Blair looked at him, puzzled.
“Remember that day you came into my room at Viki’s and we drew on that portrait with your lipstick?”
“Yeah,” said Blair. “One of my favorite memories.”
“That man was my father. Not Peter Manning. I was right. You knew something you didn’t know you knew. Irene Manning was his cousin but she was my mother.”
“Oh, Todd,” Blair gasped. “No wonder he thought I was a gold-digger.” She batted her eyes playfully. “Want to get married?”
Todd leaned over and kissed her. “Absolutely. But you gotta let me do the asking. I’m the guy. And you gotta wait until I can get a ring, and I can’t do that until they let me out of here. And we should wait until I look a little less like Quasimodo so the priest doesn’t have you declared mentally incompetent for marrying me, money or no money.”
“Todd,” said Blair. “I was kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“We’ve been together for less than a month. That’s fast.”
“We’ve known each other for two years. That’s plenty.”
A cat that ate the cream smile spread over Blair’s face. “There’s something appealing about going back to Llanview married to Victor Lord’s son.”
Todd didn’t mind Blair’s status-seeking and shock-hunting. He knew that she’d liked him long before she’d known about his secret past.
“I don’t know if it comes with any money,” Todd said. “For all I know, Peter was lying.”
“You don’t think that,” Blair said, and she was right; he didn’t. “You just don’t want Kevin to be your nephew.”
Todd cringed. He hadn’t even thought of that. “But if Kevin is my nephew, that makes Viki…”
“Your big sister,” said Blair with a soft smile. “No wonder she liked you so much. She sensed the blue blood under all that fratboy jock.”
“Well, that’s one good thing about this. It’s weird. I knew there was something about her. Almost like I knew there was something about you.”
“You knew there was something about me?”
“Always.” He leaned into her, tired from his injuries and the medicine and the revelations and the shock of knowing Peter was gone forever. But he could handle it all if he had Blair.
In one of the nearby rooms, someone was playing music to soothe another patient. Todd didn’t mind. He would ignore it and breathe in Blair and think of the future they had together even though the end of football and the end of Peter should have been the end of him. It seemed like a dream.
Once upon a midnight dreary
I woke with something in my head
I couldn't escape the memory
Of a phone call and of what you said…
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