“I’m not,” he murmured, his eyes blinking dry. “No. You have no idea how much I appreciate you saying that, Ruby, but I’m not the person I thought I was. I saw myself as a mensch—I did—a mentor, a dad. I’ve been patting myself on the back for years, but I’ve got a hell of a lot of work to do. And I can! I’m old—not that old.”

“You’re not old at all.” I wasn’t sure if the lie was more for him or me.

“What I did to that kid . . . I’ll never forgive myself. But I’ve got to try to make amends.” He drew a great shuddering breath, clapped his hands, and said, “So could you do me a favor? Just one, I swear, and then you go be a teenager and Alice can fight the nurses over who gets to fuss over me . . .”

I smiled, nodding. “What do you need?”

“A number.” He waved at the windowsill, where a few random objects were sitting—a ballpoint pen, a wallet, an iPhone.

I grabbed the phone and clicked on contacts.

“Simon Wilkerson,” he said.

“The New York Times reporter?” I glanced at him, finger hovering.

“That’s the one.” Dad looked exhausted but resolute. “Bring me the phone and I’ll call him real quick. Then tell Alice to come in and say hi. And Ruby? In terms of Oscar and everything else?”

I handed him the phone, wondering where his verdict would fall after all we’d hashed out.

“There’s a loophole in his contract.”

He waited while I switched gears. I nodded and he nodded back.

“Look for the words in lieu of tuition. The summer term isn’t over until the concert ends. He can—”

“Oh my God.” I nodded, quickly now. “Okay, yeah. Thank y—”

“Don’t thank me. I’m the one who caused this mess in the first place. Just do me a favor and help me fix it.” He smiled ruefully. “Since, you know, I’m a little laid up at the moment.”

I started out. Then I turned, the reality of his surgery hitting me like a gut punch. I was still angry with him, confused, muddled, but I had to say it.

“Love you, Dad.”

He looked surprised, even after all this, and that just about broke my heart. “I love you too, Rooster. You go on now.”

Through the crack in the curtain, I could see him squinting at his phone, beginning to search his contacts.

He was doing the scary thing. Finally doing the right thing.

Now it was my turn.

41.

operation La-la-la was about to take effect. Dress rehearsal successfully out of the way, tonight’s plan was dinner with friends, non-musical conversation, zero stress. One night for Oscar to actually experience life as a standard American seventeen-year-old.