Cologne

His father called him at the office. He was not used to hearing his father’s voice, especially at the office. – Dad. I only have a few minutes. What is it? – Your mother is sick, his father said. – I know she’s sick, he said. I know that. What do you mean? – Well I wanted you to know, his father said. – What is it? I know mom is sick. I really have just a few minutes. I can call you back. – No, you can’t call me back, his father said. Do you remember how you told me once that I was a weak father? – Oh God, his son said. I said a lot of things back then. I was angry. Do we have to do this now? – Do you think I’m a weak father? – Weak how? His son said. Of course not. I don’t think you’re weak. I said it a long time ago. I really can’t talk now. – Just tell me, his father said. I can’t talk later either. – What do you mean? Why? – I’m going on a trip. It doesn’t matter. – Where? – Just tell me. – You tell me. – You said you couldn’t talk now. – Tell me where. – I’m going to Cologne. – Cologne? In France? – No. It’s in Germany. – Why? His son barked, almost exasperated. There was a secretary making motions to him through a glass door. – I’ve always wanted to see Cologne. – There’s nothing to see in Cologne, his son snapped. He was surprised that he had an opinion about Cologne. Why are you calling me now, at the worst time, and telling me about mom, and asking me things, and taking a trip? – There’s no better time to take a trip, his father responded. We’ll talk later. Go to your meeting. I love you. And then his father was gone.