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Errol

On that third ring, I contemplated hanging up

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On that third ring, I contemplated hanging up.

I could call him later, right? There really wasn't much of a rush-

"Errol?" My fathers voice broke through the line after the fourth ring, forcing me into the conversation. I could just hang up. Pretend the call dropped or something... but as I stared down at the crisp navy blue Aragona suit which was staring right back at me, it gave me about $5,000 worth of a reason to finish out this call.

"Hey dad." I finally got out through my tight bundle of nerves.

"This is a nice surprise." He started, his voice sounding like it did ever since the accident. Almost completely empty. It gave me such conflicting emotions whenever we spoke to each other. Part of me was mad at him for all the stupid arguments we've had, but part of me also broke when I felt that part of him that was just... gone now. "Sounds like you got my gift?"

"Well you made it impossible not to sign-" I started, about to go all in on the complications with getting this box in the first place, but I bit my tongue.

My mother would've slapped me straight across my face if I responded to getting such an expensive gift, with immediate anger. Especially towards the apparent love of her life or whatever.

"I mean-" I corrected myself, "thank you. Hendrix must've told you about my new project."

I scanned over those three simple words, on the note my father left:

Proud of you.

"It sounds like a really heavy piece." My dad continued. "But I don't want you to think- Well..." there was a long pause as my father chose his next choice of words very carefully, no doubt trying not to piss me off. "I'm getting a bit sick and tired of being on the opposite side of things. The wrong side of things that are important to you. I don't want you to work through this, feeling like you only have Hendrix in your corner." My father explained.

His words were so surprising to me, they left me completely speechless.

This wasn't the father I was expecting as I dialed his number damn near close to 10:30PM, in hopes he wouldn't answer. Maybe that was why I felt so compelled to reassure him about my decision. I couldn't handle him worrying right now.

"I think it's going to help me on working things out with mum. It's kinda... well, it's been a bit like therapy I guess, and Hendrix and Atlas have been great support for the areas where I've been struggling to compose mucis around." I explained, saying things before I was really thinking them through.

That was probably why I was so taken back by my fathers next question.

"Atlas? Atlas who? I once knew an Atlas..."

The weight I was shifting from one leg to the other, stilled. I hadn't meant to explain Atlas, then realization hit that Hendrix probably never mentioned him to my father either. I was commissioning something as a surprise for his birthday and mum's death anniversary.

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