He's Not Coming

Kristo

“Malaka,” I muttered to myself, forgetting for a moment that my dad was the one on the other end of the line, and he could well understand I had just called him an—

“Did you just call me an asshole?” he snapped at me. I rolled my eyes, tempted to point out that the word didn’t have a specific English translation, but playing the smart-ass was only going to land me in a heap more trouble. As if it wasn’t bad enough as it was.

“No,” I lied swiftly. “Look, are you sure you can’t get back sooner than that? You need to be here, Dad. It’s my wedding.”

“I know,” he replied tersely. “You think I don’t know that? I’m as annoyed about it as you are.”

“Then why won’t you just make the effort and actually come back home?” I pointed out. “This is ridiculous, Dad. Even you must be able to see that.”

“I didn’t plan it this way,” he snapped back, but I didn’t believe him. I knew my dad well enough to know he had everything in his life carefully planned out. If he was stuck in Greece right now,