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“Dad,” I directed, playing with the fringes that dangled off the loose tablecloth. “We need to talk. My father sat across from me, only a coffee table away. He peered up at me; his soft chocolate eyes held by the crows’ feet that spread their way across his upper face. His forehead creased in thought and as he inhaled, his nostrils twitched. Old age had not been kind to him.
“Hmm?” he prompted. He reached across the table and took my hand into his. I felt the slight shake of hands and as I looked down, than back up at him, I noticed him wince at the pain. His arthritis had gotten worse.
I gulped nervously.
“A month from now will be the anniversary of mom’s death.”
“Yes,” he said kindly yet solemnly.
“And well--,” I stopped there, suddenly at the realization that I didn’t know what to say. He had lived his whole life in this house, from childhood until now. How could I ask him to leave the only thing he truly possessed? “—And I think we should go visit her grave together.” I lied. Dad eyed me suspiciously, making me wonder if what I had lied about had been too obvious. Did he really see through me?
“I like that idea,” was all he said. I let his fragile, bony fingers slip through my hands as he leaned back in his chair. He seemed distant, as if something beyond any of us was present. He weakly tapped his toes to the beat of one of his records that softly played in the background. This familiar song had been mom’s favorite. I didn’t know what to say to him. Things were just—well—awkward between us. Not that we didn’t talk to each other or that we didn’t talk about certain subjects. No, I talked to him about everything. It was just that…ever since her death, silence had not bee a good ally to both my father and I.
I glanced around uncomfortably, trying to ignore the bothersome ticking of the grandfather clock. Finally, I asked:
“Don’t you ever get tired of this place?” He looked around.
“Not really…”
“Oh,” I replied, not meaning to say anything.
“Why?”
“Well, I just thought that after a while, with the same schedule, you’d want a change.”
“Why would I want a change? I’m happy here. Mary comes to visit me most every day with Shirley,” I looked at my watch, once remembering when the poodle had snatched it out of my hand and had ended up breaking it. Mary had apologized numerous times and no matter how many “It’s okay, really,” she kept on persisting on making it up. I had no choice but to allow her to take me shopping for a new watch. Luckily, this one has survived.
“You have somewhere to be?” he asked me, clinking his glass of tea down on the table.
“Actually, no,” I smiled.
“What ever happened to your ‘big’ articles you had to write?” He eyed me playfully. I chuckled quietly.
“The newspaper doesn’t keep me prisoner, you know?” I rhetorically asked. “I’m allowed to take a brake once in a while. I just choose to spend it with you. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No, I just that thought—“
“Enough about me dad. I want to hear from you. It’s been how long since I last saw you?”
“3 months,” he quickly answered. I bit my lip, feeling a wave of guilt hit me. I had been so consumed by work that I had completely forgotten my own father. How terrible of a daughter was I?
“I’m sorry,” I apologized.
“Don’t. It’s not like you’re my mother. I don’t need to be watched constantly,” he chuckled. “In fact, I quite like the freedom.” His beamed a smile.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, old man. You might have a heart attack,” I laughed. He joined in and for a while, a storm of giggles could be heard through out the house. But like everything else that we did, it ended and soon the silence resumed its place.
“Would you like something to eat?” Dad asked, breaking the silence once again. It seemed we were getting into a pattern. Talk—Silence—Talk…
With a crack of his back and a painful grunt, he slowly stood up.
“Dad, let me help you,” I offered, quickly getting up and letting him grab onto my arm.
“I never use to be this old, ya know?” He asked, turning to me. He tilted his head and took a deep breath. I smiled with reassurance that I knew. It took us about five minutes to make it into the kitchen and then another two minutes just to get to the fridge. One of the drawbacks to living by your self was that your home always seemed ten times bigger than it already was. He didn’t need so much space.
“What would you like to eat?” I turned my attention back to him and held the door open. In his left hand he held a packet of turkey and in the other, a jar of peanut butter, two of my most favorite foods.
“How’d you know?” I played around. I took the peanut butter and placed in on the marble counter while he put back the turkey.
“Eighteen years of raising you came in handy, didn’t it?” I nodded my head as I pulled the bread down from the top shelf and began to unwrap it.
“Want one, dad?” I asked.
“Just one?” he joked, poking me in the side.
“I don’t know. Can you even finish one?” I laughed.
“Fine, you’re right. One peanut butter sandwich, please!” So I began to assemble out sandwiches, making sure the peanut butter was put on nice and thick. It was our favorite snack.
“Your mom would have laughed if she saw you cooking,” dad pointed out. Because of his age, standing was not an option and so he sat at the dining room table. I could hear him push around the salt and peppershakers on the wood.
“Dad, I wouldn’t technically call this cooking. There isn’t much to it.”
“Hey, anything having to do with food is counted as cooking,” he debated.
“So growing fungus on a piece of bread for a science project is cooking? Would you eat it?”
“Well, no, but—“
“Case closed,” I smirked. And even though my back was to him, I was sure he was smiling, as well. It had been a long time since we had had a conversation like this, almost as if I were back to being a kid sitting at the table, listening to dad chirp on about fishing. Except this time… it was reversed. The circle of life was making its way around. But how long could I stay? I had a career, a very time-consuming career; a career that I was lucky to even get days off from. That’s why I had come here in the first place. If I weren’t here, who would take care of dad? He was at the point in his life that it was too early to send a nurse to watch him and yet he couldn’t live by himself. The only option was for him to move closer to where I lived, so that I could keep a closer eye on him. It was an ultimate decision: to move into the city.
“Something on your mind, kiddo?” dad questioned me. Handing him his sandwich along with a napkin, I took a seat left of him. I looked over my shoulder, towards the sink and through the window, where the sun beamed in, casting a shadow in front of me. Of course, it was my shadow.
“Ya,” I answered truthfully. He nodded his head, as if he had already known the answer.
He leaned in.
And then I couldn’t contain it anymore. I needed to tell him.
“I want you to sell this house and move closer to me,” I blurted out. He leaned away, his mouth in a tight line. I fumbled with my fingers under the table. Folding his arms, he replied:
“You know I can’t do that.”
“I know but I thought—
“Your mother’s spirit is here. You want me to leave her?”
“No. But dad, that’s not the point!”
“I know your point. You think I can’t take care of myself. Well, let me inform you: I’ve been taking care of myself for over 65 years. I think I can take care of myself for another ten years.”
“Dad, you do realize that I haven’t seen you in the last 3 months. The time spread won’t get any shorter.”
“I know.”
“And you do know that no one in our family is close enough to help you if you’re in trouble?”
“That’s not true. Mary lives just down the street—
“Ya, and it’s a miracle that she’s not six feet under by now…” I grumbled.
“Hey! There will be no need for insults. Why are you so persistent on moving me anyway? I thought you loved it here. You grew up here…”
“I know…”
“Memories are here. Our whole lives are here…” I got up and threw away my sandwich. I wasn’t hungry anymore.
“Exactly. But isn’t change good, as well? Maybe even better?”
“Not always,” he replied. I dried my hands as I shut off the sink. “Are you sure this isn’t an attempt to help your self, as well?” he asked all of a sudden. I turned to face him, leaning my hand back and then yanking it forward.
“We need to move on, dad.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. He stared at me, his eyes melting. I knew this was an uncomfortable subject for him. But if we didn’t talk about it now, would we ever?
“You only remain here because you’re afraid mom will be mad.”
“That’s not true—
“Yes it is and you know it. Dad, mom’s dead. She’s been dead for five years now. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you moving on in your life. In fact, I think she would want you to. And no matter how many times you argue with me, I know this house makes you miserable. You’re a prisoner here, for crying out loud!” My hand instantly went to mouth as I realized what I had just said. It had all come out at once, like water being spilt from a glass that was put upside down. There was no way to defy gravity.
He didn’t say anything; just sat there, his eyes staring out into space. I never wished for what happened next, not in a million years. If I had known what was going to occur in the next few seconds, I would have never said any of those words.
Dad toppled over, his head hitting the side of the table. Face first; he landed on the floor, his eyes closed and his hand grasping his chest.
“Dad!” I screamed, running towards him. Lifting him over and onto my lap, I began to pat the side of his face. “Dad? Wake up! Come on!” Harder and harder I slapped until I realized it was futile. With no time to do anything else, I ran to the living room and picked up the phone. What would I do if dad died?
Tick Tock…Tick Tock. Time stands still when you don’t think you have any hope left, especially after so many minutes. And even though it had been only a couple of minutes, I was sure of the worst. With my head between my knees, I waited in the Emergency Room, squeezing my eyes shut. What was taking them so long? Of course, I wasn’t the only one here. In fact, the room was packed, probably, all grieving as much as I was. And yet, I felt different from these people, like I was here because the most important thing in my life was at his end. They may have felt the same way but for some reason, I didn’t think they could ever feel as bad as I felt right at that moment. Had I caused him that much stress that, in the end, all he could do was collapse? In my hand I held my cell phone, reminding me of the seven phone calls I had missed. I shut it off and slipped it in my back pocket.
I looked down. All of a sudden, the ER door opened and I heard a man clear his throat. I didn’t bother to look up. Once again, the man cleared his throat and I noticed that he had moved closer; that I could actually see the shininess of his shoes. I peered up to the man looking at me. On his face, appeared a smile.
“Hey Kiddo,” Came a rasped voice from behind the curtain.
“Hey,” I quietly replied, pushing the curtain aside. His eyes had sunken and it seemed the crows’ feet had traveled even further. He smiled painfully. “How are you feeling?” I asked, taking a seat next to him.
“I feel fine…” He sounded honest.
“Dad,” I began. “I feel horrible…I put too much stress on you and this is what happened.” A tear shimmied down my cheek.
“No you didn’t.”
“Wha—
“I’m old. What do you expect? You were right. What am I going to do when something like this happens again? I doubt that Mary will leave her poodle all alone,” he laughed. “I didn’t know why I chose to be stubborn. It isn’t like me to allude away from common sense. If mom were here, you’d be getting the praises and me, well, I won’t only be wearing the dunce cap.”
“Mom wouldn’t scold you,” I argued. “She’d love you no matter where you chose to live. Even if it meant staying put.”
“Exactly, so I was thinking—“ he broke off.
“Yes?”
“I was thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to change up the view. I hear that there is a suburb right outside your city; very nice.”
“So you’re?”
“Yes.” I stood up quickly and then without the slightest hesitation, grabbed my dad and held him. I felt his shaking fingers wrap themselves around my shoulders. He breathed lightly. And I just couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. I felt dad shudder under me from his own tears.
“That’s two now,” he pointed out.
“What?” I asked confused, lifting my head.
“That’s two; two arguments that you’ve won.”
“Oh!” I laughed.
“Wanna go for three?” he asked.
“Sure, why not.” I smiled. “Just as long as you promise it doesn’t involve near death experiences.”
“I promise.”
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