the cumulus. Come on, you are the only son he has, be the best in his final moments of life, they told me. Your nurse, to be exact. The kind and patient woman who has been taking care of the old man these past three years. They will tell me, she is a professional, she is paid for this. She is paid for this, but she has a lot of professionals who beat the old people they are paid to take care of. Returning to the crux of the whole mess, I went there. I took a breath a few minutes ago and entered my father's room. He was there, lying on that huge bed, looking obviously sick, with his eyes heavy, half-open, without having the strength to even keep them fully open. Okay. I sat on the edge of his bed, he tried to smile, which was a strange and chilling scene. I didn't feel sorry, I felt goosebumps. But I went, I asked myself to be a good son during his last moments as I was advised. - Hi, dad - I said, half automatically. It's not like I consider the word "father" very symbolic. It's almost like calling a lady "ma'am." It's automatic. - Wanted to see me? He gave a small sigh that made him cough sharply and again, chilling, I even glanced at the door to shout to Tina, his nurse, if necessary; but the old man recovered and tried to laugh. No comments for the attempt. I felt like I was in Saw 3, one of the films that Lucy, my writer friend's wife, forced us to watch once. - You're a good son, Nathan - were the old man's first words, which didn't surprise me. If we're going to make a list of what it means to be a good son nowadays, I really am. I haven't killed anyone, I've never been arrested, I've never hit a woman, I've never taken drugs, I've never been the rebellious type who creates chaos because my father is rich, nor am I vengeful either; I just sometimes drink a little too much, and I lived with some disturbed friends when I was younger. But that didn't even make me a bad son. Besides, I didn't make excuses for my ok with taking over the old man's place after he quits. "Thank you," I replied, believing those were the words of a man who knew his impending hour. The bell was going to ring announcing his turn in the line of the dead at any moment. So I asked again: - Did you ask to see me? The answer took a long time to come. He was silent and still for almost too long. So long that I thought, for a second, that he had died. Creepy again. But he spoke. "I've always wanted grandchildren," he said, almost making me laugh. But I controlled myself. - I always wanted you to be happy, in the way I wasn't. Conversation! There are final moments like that. The old man had a model next to him every month, this always appeared in magazines and on Instagram; Just tell me: how was he not happy? - My last wish in life - he continued - is to see you married. I would like more than anything to see you happy with a good woman by your side. I don't want to die knowing that my failed marriage to your mother may have messed you up. Nathan, you are a good son - he repeated. - I want to see you happy and, I tell you, from my experience...