for an hour. You can do whatever you want the rest of your time there. Go visit Rion at school.”
“Please just mail them, Dara,” I beg.
“I’m not mailing them. You are a notary, and I know these documents are safe with you. She has verbally committed to donating a very large amount of money to Fallport, Tyler. This town and the people here would benefit from this case being handled quickly.” As she stands and walks out of her office, she finishes her orders, “Her number is on that sticky note. Call her, and set it up.”
Fuck!
“And, Tyler, go see Dad,” she adds.
Double fuck.
For two days now, I’ve sat on this file.
Today, Dara finally realized that I haven’t contacted Truly or gone to see our father. After a good ass-chewing from her, I’ve agreed to stop by my parents’ house.
These visits are becoming unbearable. My father is immediately aggravated at the mere sight of me in his home. He has no clue who I am. The final stage of Alzheimer’s has robbed our family of its leader. It’s unbearable to watch.
I shove my anger down as I walk into what used to be Dara’s childhood bedroom. It’s been transformed into the room my father will die in.
I hate everything about this visit. My mother isn’t even able to comfort either of us because my father becomes violently angry if anyone is near her. He might not remember his children or grandchild, but at least he remembers her. And he thinks he must protect her from everyone.
This disease is a bastard. I’m looking at a stranger who won’t look at or speak to me. Why Dara thinks it’s important for me to do this is beyond me. It doesn’t make me or my father feel better.
“Hey, Dad.” I reach out and lay my hand near my father, but I don’t touch him.
He turns his head away from me and stares blankly out the window. I miss the strong and vibrant man my father was last year.
“Everything is good at the office. You’d be proud of us.” I’m not very good at one-way communication. It feels like a waste of breath.
I sit in the rocking chair next to my father’s bed for half an hour longer. Staring out the window just like my father is, I wonder where we’ll be this time next year. I wonder if Dad will make it through the holidays and how my mom will cope when he’s gone. I’m impressed by how she has been handling this whole thing. She’s a rock, always finding the good in everything—even with slowly losing her husband. I wonder if she is just being strong for everyone else.
After a brief conversation with my mom, I leave with all intentions of calling Truly.
But I stop at the bar.
And I never get around to calling her.
I did however attempt to get her out of the space she had been occupying in my mind. I just made my life more difficult in the process. I gave in to Katie. I was drunk, and I wanted Truly to get the fuck out of my pounding head.
Just like she did every Friday night, Katie came into the bar and sweet-talked me. Only this Friday night, I had gone through a week without any attention from a woman, a week of barely leaving my house, and worst of all, a week of smelling a woman who wasn’t there.
When I did my laundry, I’d smell Truly because Rion had left his dirty clothes in the laundry room—the clothes he’d sprayed with Truly’s perfume. Every time I walked past his bedroom, I’d smell her because he’d sprayed his damn bed. She was not only in my head, but also in my house.
I only wanted someone to write over my memories of my night with her. Katie had made promises for years to rock my world in bed. I was weak and gave in. It was one big mistake.
I realized quickly that I didn’t want her at my house. I should have stopped. If I didn’t want a memory of her in my house, I should have just ended it there. That had never been a problem for me. I’d taken many girls home. I’d slept with quite a few in my own bed, on my couch, and on my floor, and it’d never been an issue. But I didn’t
“Please just mail them, Dara,” I beg.
“I’m not mailing them. You are a notary, and I know these documents are safe with you. She has verbally committed to donating a very large amount of money to Fallport, Tyler. This town and the people here would benefit from this case being handled quickly.” As she stands and walks out of her office, she finishes her orders, “Her number is on that sticky note. Call her, and set it up.”
Fuck!
“And, Tyler, go see Dad,” she adds.
Double fuck.
For two days now, I’ve sat on this file.
Today, Dara finally realized that I haven’t contacted Truly or gone to see our father. After a good ass-chewing from her, I’ve agreed to stop by my parents’ house.
These visits are becoming unbearable. My father is immediately aggravated at the mere sight of me in his home. He has no clue who I am. The final stage of Alzheimer’s has robbed our family of its leader. It’s unbearable to watch.
I shove my anger down as I walk into what used to be Dara’s childhood bedroom. It’s been transformed into the room my father will die in.
I hate everything about this visit. My mother isn’t even able to comfort either of us because my father becomes violently angry if anyone is near her. He might not remember his children or grandchild, but at least he remembers her. And he thinks he must protect her from everyone.
This disease is a bastard. I’m looking at a stranger who won’t look at or speak to me. Why Dara thinks it’s important for me to do this is beyond me. It doesn’t make me or my father feel better.
“Hey, Dad.” I reach out and lay my hand near my father, but I don’t touch him.
He turns his head away from me and stares blankly out the window. I miss the strong and vibrant man my father was last year.
“Everything is good at the office. You’d be proud of us.” I’m not very good at one-way communication. It feels like a waste of breath.
I sit in the rocking chair next to my father’s bed for half an hour longer. Staring out the window just like my father is, I wonder where we’ll be this time next year. I wonder if Dad will make it through the holidays and how my mom will cope when he’s gone. I’m impressed by how she has been handling this whole thing. She’s a rock, always finding the good in everything—even with slowly losing her husband. I wonder if she is just being strong for everyone else.
After a brief conversation with my mom, I leave with all intentions of calling Truly.
But I stop at the bar.
And I never get around to calling her.
I did however attempt to get her out of the space she had been occupying in my mind. I just made my life more difficult in the process. I gave in to Katie. I was drunk, and I wanted Truly to get the fuck out of my pounding head.
Just like she did every Friday night, Katie came into the bar and sweet-talked me. Only this Friday night, I had gone through a week without any attention from a woman, a week of barely leaving my house, and worst of all, a week of smelling a woman who wasn’t there.
When I did my laundry, I’d smell Truly because Rion had left his dirty clothes in the laundry room—the clothes he’d sprayed with Truly’s perfume. Every time I walked past his bedroom, I’d smell her because he’d sprayed his damn bed. She was not only in my head, but also in my house.
I only wanted someone to write over my memories of my night with her. Katie had made promises for years to rock my world in bed. I was weak and gave in. It was one big mistake.
I realized quickly that I didn’t want her at my house. I should have stopped. If I didn’t want a memory of her in my house, I should have just ended it there. That had never been a problem for me. I’d taken many girls home. I’d slept with quite a few in my own bed, on my couch, and on my floor, and it’d never been an issue. But I didn’t
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