answer
the door, Michael.”
He tapped his middle finger against her nose. “Party pooper.”
She chuckled. “You’re a trip.” She held out her hand to him. “Come with me,” she said.
He waited until the bell rang the third time before he took her hand. “Maybe they’ll
be gone when we get to the door and we can head straight upstairs.”
Josette was still laughing at her husband when she opened the front door. Her laughter
stopped abruptly when she saw a disheveled and weary-eyed Isaac standing in the doorway.
“Isaac?”
Behind her, Michael said, “Told you we shouldn’t have opened the door.”
Ignoring her husband’s rudeness, Josette asked, “Is this about Mr. Martin?”
Isaac nodded. “He wants to see your husband.” To Michael, he said, “He’s asking for
you.”
Michael folded his arms across his chest. “And?”
Isaac sighed. “Look, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me to be here,
but our father wants to see you. The least you can do is honor his request.”
Dropping his folded arms, Michael laughed. “You’re kidding me, right? You didn’t just
ask me to honor our father’s request? Are you talking about the father who failed
to acknowledge me for thirty years? I can’t believe you’re asking me to honor anything
from him. What honor has he shown me, my sister, or my mother?”
With those words, he stalked away from the door. Josette heard his footsteps going
up the stairs. “I’m sorry,” she told Isaac, with a wobbly smile. This was their first
face-to-face meeting, and she was struck by how much he and Michael looked alike.
She’d seen the resemblance in photos, but seeing him up close like this made it more
vivid. “There’s no getting through to him when it comes to Mr. Martin. Leah and Deborah
tried to get him to go to the hospital. If Leah couldn’t convince him, nobody can.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Isaac confessed. “Dad’s talking like he’s dying—”
“Has his condition worsened?”
Isaac wiped his hands down his face. “Not according to the doctors, but Dad’s telling
a different story. This pessimism is so unlike him. He’s a fighter, but it seems he’s
giving up.”
Josette felt Isaac’s pain and wished again that Michael would try harder with him.
They would both benefit. “I’ll try again with Michael,” she said. “But I don’t want
you to get your hopes up. He’s pretty rigid when it comes to Mr. Martin.”
“I know,” Isaac said, “but thanks for offering to try. That’s all you can do. That’s
all any of us can do.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, I’ll be leaving.
Thanks for everything.”
Josette closed the door and mounted the steps to their bedroom with a heavy heart.
Every thought of Michael’s hatred for his father was accompanied with the question
of how much that hate was affecting their marriage.
He was stretched out on their king-sized bed, talking on the phone, when she entered
the bedroom. He hung up, again obviously not wanting her to hear his conversation.
She hated this secrecy and the suspicions it aroused in her.
“Can you believe that guy?” Michael asked. “Coming here and asking me something like
that?”
“What I can’t believe is you,” she said, angered because he was hiding something from
her. “All the man wants is to see you.”
Michael leaned on his side so he faced her. “Well, he had thirty years to see me and
didn’t. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of asking me to forgive him. All
he wants to do is clear his guilty conscience. Once again, Abraham Martin is only
concerned with Abraham Martin.”
“You’re certainly his son,” Josette said. She turned toward the dresser and began
removing her earrings.
“What do you mean by that?”
She turned back to him after removing both earrings and her necklace. “I mean you’re
repeating his mistakes.” She perched on
the door, Michael.”
He tapped his middle finger against her nose. “Party pooper.”
She chuckled. “You’re a trip.” She held out her hand to him. “Come with me,” she said.
He waited until the bell rang the third time before he took her hand. “Maybe they’ll
be gone when we get to the door and we can head straight upstairs.”
Josette was still laughing at her husband when she opened the front door. Her laughter
stopped abruptly when she saw a disheveled and weary-eyed Isaac standing in the doorway.
“Isaac?”
Behind her, Michael said, “Told you we shouldn’t have opened the door.”
Ignoring her husband’s rudeness, Josette asked, “Is this about Mr. Martin?”
Isaac nodded. “He wants to see your husband.” To Michael, he said, “He’s asking for
you.”
Michael folded his arms across his chest. “And?”
Isaac sighed. “Look, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me to be here,
but our father wants to see you. The least you can do is honor his request.”
Dropping his folded arms, Michael laughed. “You’re kidding me, right? You didn’t just
ask me to honor our father’s request? Are you talking about the father who failed
to acknowledge me for thirty years? I can’t believe you’re asking me to honor anything
from him. What honor has he shown me, my sister, or my mother?”
With those words, he stalked away from the door. Josette heard his footsteps going
up the stairs. “I’m sorry,” she told Isaac, with a wobbly smile. This was their first
face-to-face meeting, and she was struck by how much he and Michael looked alike.
She’d seen the resemblance in photos, but seeing him up close like this made it more
vivid. “There’s no getting through to him when it comes to Mr. Martin. Leah and Deborah
tried to get him to go to the hospital. If Leah couldn’t convince him, nobody can.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Isaac confessed. “Dad’s talking like he’s dying—”
“Has his condition worsened?”
Isaac wiped his hands down his face. “Not according to the doctors, but Dad’s telling
a different story. This pessimism is so unlike him. He’s a fighter, but it seems he’s
giving up.”
Josette felt Isaac’s pain and wished again that Michael would try harder with him.
They would both benefit. “I’ll try again with Michael,” she said. “But I don’t want
you to get your hopes up. He’s pretty rigid when it comes to Mr. Martin.”
“I know,” Isaac said, “but thanks for offering to try. That’s all you can do. That’s
all any of us can do.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, I’ll be leaving.
Thanks for everything.”
Josette closed the door and mounted the steps to their bedroom with a heavy heart.
Every thought of Michael’s hatred for his father was accompanied with the question
of how much that hate was affecting their marriage.
He was stretched out on their king-sized bed, talking on the phone, when she entered
the bedroom. He hung up, again obviously not wanting her to hear his conversation.
She hated this secrecy and the suspicions it aroused in her.
“Can you believe that guy?” Michael asked. “Coming here and asking me something like
that?”
“What I can’t believe is you,” she said, angered because he was hiding something from
her. “All the man wants is to see you.”
Michael leaned on his side so he faced her. “Well, he had thirty years to see me and
didn’t. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of asking me to forgive him. All
he wants to do is clear his guilty conscience. Once again, Abraham Martin is only
concerned with Abraham Martin.”
“You’re certainly his son,” Josette said. She turned toward the dresser and began
removing her earrings.
“What do you mean by that?”
She turned back to him after removing both earrings and her necklace. “I mean you’re
repeating his mistakes.” She perched on
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