by Pepper Pace
“I figured that you were going to say no. So I’m calling Dad.”
She said absolutely nothing. “You haven’t talked to your father in years.”
“I will for this.”
She gave him a long look. “I will tell him not to do it.”
Jason stared at her. “If you do that, then I’ll never talk to you again.”
“Jason.” Her eyes were unflinching. “I watched you come as close to death as a mother should ever see her son come, all because of falling, blacking out from the Baclofen, seizures, you name it. So, guess what? You do what you have to do and I’ll do what I have to do.” She got up and walked out the door.
Jason placed his face into his hand and rested there for a while. After a long moment he looked up and then slowly reached for his cell phone. He cleared his throat and dialed the cell number that he had never before dialed; the one that belonged to his father.
“Hello?” Came the gruff voice of a man.
“Dad? This is Jason.”
“Jason.” Came the surprised response. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothings wrong. But I need to talk to you.”
“Okay. Are you sure?”
Jason ran his fingers through his tangled hair and tried not to sigh. Was it possible that after three years he could just freaking listen without jumping to conclusions? Or would it just make him feel better to be Daddy rescuer? Fine, then he’d play it his way.
“Yes, there is something wrong. Can you come over here?”
“Yeah, Jason. I’m on my way. It will take me an hour because I’m in Kentucky.” which is where he lived. He had never remarried after separating from his mother, and had never had any other kids. Jason figured that he had not wanted to tempt fate by having yet another broken child.
“Fine.” Jason began giving him his address.
“Jason I know where you live.” He repeated the address back to his son. Jason was surprised that he knew it without having to dig through some file. It wasn’t as if he’d ever been invited by. The two hung up after a brief goodbye.
Jason went about straightening up the apartment; the things that his mother hadn’t gotten to—like the dishes. Then he thought about shaving but decided that his light beard definitely made him look more like the man that his father had never thought he could be.
When the doorbell rang, Jason’s body was fluid. He’d already had his morning seizure and now he was calm.
He answered the door to a tall man in his mid forties. He was very handsome; fit despite the fact that his football player body was no longer accustomed to the game. His hair was longish and curled softly and like his son it was a deep red. His freckled face was almost an exact replica of the young man that sat in the wheelchair before him.
Chase Hamilton stood in the doorway staring at the young man. He pulled on a broad smile. “Hello, Jason. You’re looking good.”
“Hi. Come in.” The older man walked into the room, looking around, seeming to absorb every sight and every sound. Jason’s apartment was not the typical ‘home’ with his studio set up in his living room. But it was clean, neat and comfortable for him.
“Have a seat.” Jason gestured to the couch. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Um…sure. I’ll get it-”
“No, I will. Just have a seat.” Jason said as he wheeled into the kitchen. “Coke? Water? Iced tea?”
“Iced tea is good.” Jason grabbed two bottled iced teas and wheeled back into the living room.
The older man took a long swallow while his eyes roamed over the sight of his son. “You are looking very good. Have you been working out? You look like you have been.”
Jason gave him a cold look. “Well Dad, I’m just older, that’s all. Last time you saw me I was 16 so I kind of grew.” Jason was happy to see two bright red spots form on his father’s cheeks.
“True.” Chase said. “I haven’t been around much.” He stared into Jason’s green eyes steadily. “Of course you haven’t wanted me around. You’ve made that pretty clear.”
Jason didn’t respond. When he’d been in the hospital; surgeries, accidents, his father had come by but Jason had been adamant that he didn’t want to see him. Being sick was the worst time to try to listen to his father’s bullshit rhetoric. Maybe when he wasn’t sick and in the hospital he would have been more receptive to a visit from him, but that just didn’t happen. His father only came around when something was wrong.
Chase continued speaking when Jason did not seem inclined to respond. “How have you been, son?”
Jason’s eyes flinched at the use of the word. “The reason I asked you here is because I need you to give me the money for a surgery that I’d like to get.”
Chase rubbed his chin. “I have to admit, when you called me out of the blue, I phoned your mother. So I know all about the Baclofen pump and that she doesn’t want you to get it.”
Jason snorted and then looked at the ceiling. “Unbelievable.” He muttered. He looked at his father again. “And I suppose that you agree with her?”
“I…yes. I mean, your mother has taken care of things. So I’m sure she knows what risks-”
“Mom is overly protective of me because she’s had to be. But it doesn’t mean that she is always right.”
Chase considered his son. “Why can’t you just take it orally?”
“Because it’s worse, orally. I can’t think, I can’t…” He gestured to his studio, “…create music. I can’t stay awake. And I’m sick all of the time. With the pump it’s an even continuous distribution of the medicine.”
Chase looked at the studio where ambient music was flowing. “I heard that you make music. Is that one of yours?”
Jason nodded.
“Damn. You always liked music.” He sighed. “Tell me what the Baclofen pump is; exactly what it is.”
“I have rigidity and my muscles won’t cooperate and they pull without my control which is spasticity. With Baclofen it calms spasticity and gives me more muscle control. When I was last on Baclofen I could walk, I could speak more clearly.” It stopped the involuntary muscle cramps that forced his body into painful positions. Jason went into detail about this. Then he explained that his motions were slow, sinuous muscle movements and Baclofen helped with that. Also because he was dystonic; the muscles in his mouth, neck and throat were not controlled, he was prone to choking and slurring. He explained that with the pump he would be able to eat without having someone watch that he didn’t choke to death.
Jason explained all of this dispassionately as his father’s eyes grew larger. When he finished talking, his father nodded slowly.
“Your mother said that Baclofen almost killed you. You even overdosed-”
“That wasn’t the fault of the Baclofen. The catheter came loose and dumped a massive dose into my system. But I knew that it was happening so I called the ambulance.” He’d also gone into a coma for nearly an entire day. And that had been the last straw for his mother. The blacking out, and the falling as his body became adjusted was one thing, but his close brush with death had been the deal breaker.
“Jason…” His father ran a worried hand through his hair. “What if that happens again? Your mother says that someone HAS to be there to monitor you. If you hadn’t been able to call an ambulance then you would have died. And this happened when you were living at home with your mother. Now you live alone. Who is going to be this ‘support’ system that your mother keeps talking about? The person that will be taking you back and forth to the hospital for adjustments two and three times a week? The person that you will call when the medicine isn’t working right?”
“My girlfriend. My girlfriend has already offered to be my support system.”
“Girlfriend? You have a girlfriend?” His surprise was evident in his face.
Jason’s expression hardened. “Yeah. As impossible as that may seem to you, I do have a girlfriend-”
“I didn’t mean it that way, Jason. Jeez! You are a fu
cking hard kid to get along with!”
Jason looked at an empty space between them. “Her name is Robin.” He finally said.
Chase relaxed. “What is Robin like?”
“She’s black.” He peered at his father to see if he would have a reaction to that. “She’s gorgeous. She’s my caregiver so she knows what she’s doing.”
Chase grinned. “Wow, what does your mother think about all of this? I’m sure the color thing doesn’t matter to her since she’s been dating Raymond, but she always did tie on the apron strings pretty tight-”
“What?” Jason leaned forward. “Dating who?”
“Raymond. That guy that’s been giving you your rehab.”
Jason chuckled. “Yeah right. That’s crazy. He’s too young for Mom.”
Chase’s face seemed to pale. “I’m sorry…I figured she’d told you by now. She and Raymond had been seeing each other even before he took you on as a client.” Chase shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to…”
Jason was frowning. There was no way that this could be true. Raymond used to tell him in detail about his fuck fests…UGH! Jason shuddered uncontrollably. No, he wouldn’t believe that…because if it was true then it meant that all of the secrets that he had told Raymond then he had gone right back and told his mother. But she had known about the walking…
He quickly dismissed all of that…for now.
“Look, Robin is going to be my support system. I’ve been on Baclofen before, I know what to expect, and I’m not a kid anymore for her to make my decisions for me. So...?”
Chase stood and paced a few feet. “Your mother will kill me for this, but yeah. I’ll pay for it.” He swung around to look at Jason. “On one condition.”
Jason shrugged. “What?”
“You let me be at the hospital when they put it in.” Jason nodded. “And you let me meet your girlfriend.”
“That’s two conditions.”
“Well…”
Jason stared at him. “Why? Why do you want to meet her?”
Chase shoved his hands into his pants pocket and responded solemnly. “Because she’s going to be the woman that has your life in her hands.” They stared at each other, neither backing down. Chase led a solitary life. He had never remarried and had no other children. His girlfriends’ were young, sexy and like the song by Steely Dan, not able to understand him the way he needed to be understood. Empty sex with sexy women was just that; empty. He craved more, family, a relationship with the son that he had never gotten to know.
Jason sighed. “Not immediately, okay? But yes, I’ll introduce you before the surgery.”
He nodded. He was happy that his son had called him, though it was evident that he was not exactly prepared to allow him into his life. Small steps. He would take what he could get.
Chapter 23
Robin reached her car and when she dug for her keys she saw that she was still holding the bag of muffins in one hand and Dr. Babb’s card in the other. She shuddered uncontrollably and then searched her purse for her car keys. She couldn’t see. Tears blurred her vision and her chest ached from trying to catch her breath.
She didn’t quite remember the drive home as she was crying almost hysterically, but she also didn’t know that she was crying almost hysterically. She ran up the stairs to the building, several neighbors looking on in concern. She kept to herself and most didn’t really know her other than to just say hi or bye. She stabbed at the elevator frantically and then without waiting, just hurried up the stairs, still holding the now torn bag of muffins.
In her apartment she slammed the door shut and pressed her back against it. Suddenly she could breath and she took several deep breaths and then rubbed her sweat slickened face with her shaking palm. The image of her last visit with Miss Lucille flooded her mind and it made her cringe. She hadn’t done enough! She had left her and not even returned! It hadn’t been enough...
“I’m so sorry…” She muttered. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.” So many images came to mind, from Jason turning blue on the floor of the restaurant to changing Miss Lucille’s adult diaper and finally to feeding her father his last meal. Robin sank down to the floor; her heart slamming into her chest and her throat tightening once again. She could barely cope with all of these images of people that she couldn’t save.
“Daddy…” She murmured. “I don’t know why I wasn’t there. How could I let you die without me?” And then suddenly, the things that she never allowed herself to consider came flooding back…
That day Robin had gone home. She’d spent the last week with Daddy, morning noon and night. She would dash home just to shower and pack food for her and Momma and then back she would return. Momma did the same, they made sure to always have at least one of them present at his bedside.
People from church came and helped but they didn’t understand that either she or Momma had to be there for Daddy’s last moments. They kept saying, ‘You are exhausted, baby. Go home and sleep. We will call you if something happens.’ She would just thank them for their concern and curl up in the chair next to Daddy’s bed, listening to the sound of his oxygen and the beeping of the machines.
And then it was the day before Halloween and Daddy had pulled down his oxygen mask and looked at her with clear eyes.
“Who’s been messing with you Robin?”
She had sat up straight and leaned in close. “Nobody, Daddy. I’m okay.” He nodded then, contented, and then went back to sleep. A sad smile tugged at her lips. Daddy was always trying to take care of somebody, even when he was on heavy dosages of morphine…even when he was at the last days of his life. Sometimes he would wake up and tell her to make sure a certain bill would get paid so that Mama wouldn’t have to worry about it. But she didn’t understand what he meant. Mama took care of all of the bills. Robin just nodded and assured him that she would. That was so much of his last days; he would wake up long enough to look around for them and once he saw them the frantic search ended and he delivered some last instruction.
Robin would almost feel desperate at the idea that one day he just wouldn’t be here. She knew that she should not wish for him to continue to live when his life was filled with so much pain, but she just wasn’t ready to lose her Daddy. She had reached out and clutched his hand while he slept. Who would fight for her when he wasn’t there? Who would she run to when he wasn’t there? And then that old familiar fear would creep up on her; the fear that no one would ever love her like her Mom and her Dad.
That evening the nurses had brought in his tray of food. It was turkey and dressing with cranberry relish and green bean almandine. It looked and smelled really good. Later she would wonder if the nurses knew that this would be Daddy’s last meal. She fed him and he ate with gusto. He ate nearly all of his food. He even asked her to sprinkle season salt on the dressing.
Mama used to chastise him that he couldn’t have salt and Robin would silently wonder why? He only had days. She would put a fucking cigarette in his mouth if that’s what he wanted, and give him a bucket of salt to swill down if it would make him happy!
Robin thought that his renewed appetite was surely a sign. It was the first time that he could eat more than three or four bites that entire week. She buttered his dinner roll happily, and he even ate nearly half of that!