Chapter Two Hundred Eighty
Summer 2015, Wichita, KS, USA
As he walked into the room, the first thing I noticed was how he wouldn’t make eye contact with any of us. With his head hung low, he continued to walk in our direction.
“Come on.” I said as I stood.
We met in the center of the room, and he raised his head slowly. “Well, he’s one of the most stubborn men I’ve ever seen.”
“Alive and stubborn?” I asked.
“Yes, he’s alive,” he said. “I guess telling you now causes no harm, but we lost him twice.”
Alicia gasped. “Oh no.”
“It’s irrelevant now,” he said as he raised his hands in front of his chest.
He poked himself in the lower portion of his chest with the tip of his finger. “The portion we worked on was here.”
“It ended up being a much larger part than I had anticipated. The procedure took six hours,” he said.
“He’s in recovery now, and I suspect you’ll be able to see him in an hour or so,” he said. “I’ll let you know as soon as we have him in a room.”
“Thank you,” I said.
The six hours had passed like minutes. Sitting with my sister talking about our childhood, my new life, her new job, and Shane’s son went rather well, and I enjoyed it immensely. As the doctor left the room we turned toward the couch we had been seated on.
“Have you ever eaten Pho?” I asked Katie.
“What?” she asked.
The food was my sister’s favorite, at least the best I could remember. She and her friends would drive repeatedly to a Vietnamese soup kitchen when they were 16 years old and devour the soup, and she would come home without enough appetite to eat dinner. I refused to even try the stuff as a kid, and although many years had passed, I still had yet to try it.
“It’s a noodle soup,” I said.
“I love noodle soup,” she responded.
“You eat it now?” Alicia asked.
“Never tried the stuff. You still like it?” I asked.
“Love it,” she said.
“Well, Erik Ead brags on the shit like it’s gold. Let’s go grab a bowl before they get him to a room, I’m hungry,” I said.
“Who’s Erik Ead?” she asked.
“A good friend,” I responded. “So, do you want to?”
“I’d love to,” Alicia responded.
I raised my arms and wrapped them around the two women’s shoulders who I cared dearly for.
One bound to me by blood, and both by love.
As we walked to the door, I realized Alicia reminded me of my mother. By the time we reached Alicia’s car, I admitted I resembled my father in many ways, one of which was described accurately by his doctor.
I was stubborn.
Chapter Two Hundred Eighty-One
Late Summer 2015, Wichita, Kansas, USA
As a child, I made a decision on my own to believe in God. I don’t think children require much convincing to believe, for most I suspect it comes rather easily. Believing there was a mighty being in charge of the universe pulling the strings from above like a talented puppeteer continued for me until I was a teenager. I gave considerable thought to the subject as a teen, and as I became more and more intelligent about my surroundings, I decided not only that I believed in God, but that God wasn’t a puppeteer.
God was real.
My mother was outspoken about her belief in God and was a religious woman. Although Alicia and I went to service with her on almost every Sunday as children, I never saw my father step foot into a church. Initially, I though fathers in general were too busy for church and probably didn’t attend, especially after working as hard as they did for the entire week to provide for their families. As time passed, and I grew older, I determined my father wasn’t sure about the existence of God.
It wasn’t something he talked about, nor was it something he ever admitted. He didn’t have to, we just knew.
As a believer, I often wondered what would happen to my father when the clock ran out. When his heart beat its last drop of blood through his veins what would be next?
Would there be some means of forgiveness for stupidity?
Would he receive a free pass for being stubborn?
Did he really believe and was simply too afraid to admit it?
With the series of tubes taped to his mouth and extended into his throat, it was impossible for him to speak, and our only means of communication was by writing on a pad of paper with a pen. Clearly frustrated and growing angrier by the minute, communicating with him was similar to playing a game of charades.
“Need me to scratch somewhere? Alicia asked.
He shook his head from side to side frantically.
“Want a drink?” she asked.
He widened his bloodshot eyes and stared.
I turned toward her and glared. “Jesus, Alicia. He can’t drink.”
Although he was alive and they expected a full recovery, he was extremely frail at the moment. Regardless, I placed the pen in his shaking hand and held the pad close to his chest. I was fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to write, but he didn’t seem to be in agreement.
He glanced at the pad, raised the pen slightly, and upon realizing he was incapable of writing, closed his eyes and released it. The pen fell on the edge of the bed, rolled to the floor, and Katie bent down to pick it up.
I glanced at Alicia and shrugged my shoulders.
“Let me see the pad,” Katie said.
I reached for the pad, handed it to Katie, and patted him lightly on the shoulder. “It’s just going to take time.”
He blinked his eyes.
Alicia, standing at the foot of the bed, reached out and squeezed his feet. “They said maybe tomorrow they’ll take the tube out.”
He blinked his eyes again. They were covered in a light film of grease, which made him seem even less able to exist on his own. As I studied him and wondered just how much longer he would actually live, Katie handed me the pad and pen.
“Here,” she said. “The entire alphabet. Point at the letter and have him blink his eyes or something.”
I felt like an idiot.
“Thank you, Baby,” I said as I accepted the pad.
I held the pad in front of him and pointed at the letters one at a time, starting with “A”.
When I got to “G”, he nodded his head.
I repeated the process, and when I got to “O”, he did the same.
“Good to see you?” Alicia blurted, attempting to guess what it was he was trying to say.
He shook his head and did his best to glare at her with his grease covered eyes.
“Just let him finish,” I said.
The next letter was learned rather quickly, and surprised me somewhat. In choosing “D”, he had so far spelled God, but I was quite certain we weren’t done yet.
When he chose the letter “W”, I wasn’t sure where he was leading us, but we continued, each of us eager for our own reasons to see just what it was he was determined to say.
After a matter of a few minutes we had all of the pieces to the puzzle.
A chill ran down my spine.
I suppose I was relieved by the answer, but I was also shocked. I wanted to know more, but realized I would just have to wait. For now, I was satisfied that my father’s life would probably be changing in some respects. Or so I hoped.
I placed the pad beside him on the bed and patted him on the shoulder. “I love you, Pop.”
He blinked his eyes, closed them, and fell asleep.
I guessed, at least for the time being, he had said all it was he felt he needed to.
“Let’s go get a cup of coffee while he’s sleeping,” I said.
As Katie and Alicia turned toward the door, chatting as if they were long lost friends, I tore the sheet of paper from the pad and gave it one last look before I folded it and placed it in my pocket.
God was there.
Chapter Two Hundred
Eighty-Two
Late Summer 2015, Austin, Texas, USA
“There should be two options, but according to him, there’s only one. I guess I see his point,” I said.
“The attachment to home?” she asked.
“Basically. That’s the home he married my mother in and raised his children in. There aren’t many people who stay in a home that long, and he has. He doesn’t want to leave,” I said.
My father was going to require someone to be with him at all times, at least for a while. Although Alicia had been with him for the entire time he had been out of the hospital, it was time for her to return to Ohio, or she was going to lose her new job.
I realized using a home healthcare company was an option, but I felt it would be insensitive and selfish on my part. Going to Kansas, however, seemed impossible. My options, however, were limited. It was Friday, and Alicia had to be to work on Monday. I had dodged the subject as long as I was able and it was time for me to make a decision. I sat across from her and buried my head in my hands.
“What do you want to do?” Katie asked.
I raised my head from my sweaty palms and glanced in her direction. Sitting on the couch smiling, it was as if she was immune to my concerns and worries. Either that or she knew something I didn’t.
“Want to do? Stay here and not have this problem,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Don’t call it a problem, Alec. It’s not a problem. Look at it as an opportunity.”
I choked on the thought. “An opportunity?”
“Yes. You’ve been separated from him for what? Ten years? And now you’ve finally either forgiven him or yourself, however you want to look at it. It’s an opportunity for you to get to know him again, and for him to catch up on everything with you,” she said.
I leaned into the back of the chair and crossed my arms. “And what about you?”
“What do you mean what about me? I’m going with you. What else would I do?” she asked.
The night I asked Katie on a date, her father’s message to me was clear. You’re not from here. And I ain’t lookin’ to have my daughter taken from me, Mr. Jacob. Not now or ever. As far as I’m concerned, she can leave Texas when I’m dead, but not before. Taking her with me, even for what I believed to be a temporary resolution to his condition, would likely be met by a hell no response.
“Your father made it clear that he didn’t want me to take you from here. He was adamant about it. Me staying here in Texas, and you never leaving. He said you could leave when he’s dead.” I said.
She chuckled. “Sounds like something he’d say. But, is your father going to require your assistance forever?” she asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t think so.”
“Neither do I. So, you’re not taking me from here. Or from him. We’d be going there for a while to take care of your father. We’ll be back,” she said.
I nodded my head in agreement, knowing damned well it wasn’t that easy. I was going to have to talk to her father, and I was quite sure his opinion wasn’t going to be the same as hers. The thought of leaving, in general, had kept me from sleeping for the last ten days. The thought of leaving her, even on a temporary basis, seemed impossible for me.
But taking her seemed equally impossible.
I felt sick to my stomach.
“I’ll talk to your father,” I said. “Either way, I’m going to have to be there Monday.”
“We’ll be there Monday,” she said.
She stood from her seat and walked into the kitchen, not seeming to understand just how much leaving was bothering me, even if it was on what we believed to be a temporary basis. She poured a cup of coffee, sauntered back into the living room and sat down.
“What?” she asked as she sat down. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”
“We’ll see how he takes the news, I guess,” I said.
She sat and studied me for several minutes as she drank her coffee. As she lowered her cup to the table beside the couch, she maintained eye contact with me.
“It’s Casey, isn’t it?” She asked.
“What?” I asked, even though I heard her clearly.
“Casey. You don’t want to leave him,” she said.
She was right. All things considered, I knew I could leave Texas. As a combat Marine, I learned not to become too attached to anyone or anything, because in a moment’s notice, things can change. People disappear. Some change units, others get killed, and, as time passes, yet others are discharged. I loved Shane and Ripp as brothers, but I could leave them if need be. Leaving Casey, however, seemed to be an impossibility.
I felt if I left I would be doing what I had condemned my sister for doing.
I crossed my arms in front of my chest, fully realizing she was correct in her assumption about Casey, but not willing to discuss it. “I don’t want to leave. It’s that simple.”
“I guess we need to go talk to my dad,” she said.
“We’ll go as soon as I’m done with this cup of coffee,” I said.
I stood from my seat and walked into the kitchen. I only had two days to decide whatever it was we were going to do. Talking to her father was the next step, and something we had to do without exception. His response to our request may very well allow both of us to travel to Kansas on a temporary, or semi-permanent basis.
And I knew as sure as I was standing there that of everything I had to do throughout my entire life, leaving that child was going to be the most difficult of them all.
Chapter Two Hundred Eighty-Three
Late Summer 2015, Austin, Texas, USA
Unconditional love is something I had always believed was shared between parents and children; and at times, between two people who fell in love. I never expected it to exist between friends, or between a parent and a child who weren’t related.
“Your father needs ya. There ain’t a damned thing I can do to fix that, other than offer my love and understanding. You know, we take care of you when you’re little, and there comes a time when it’s your turn to return the favor,” he said.
I was completely shocked by his open-minded acceptance of what it was that I felt I needed to do. His insistence that Katie went with me was equally surprising, and although I was relieved, I realized my next step was to actually go through with it and leave.
“I’ll see how things go, and we’ll hope for the best,” I said. “I appreciate your understanding, Sir.”
He wrinkled his brow, narrowed his eyes and glared at me. “You appreciate my understanding? What the hell did you expect, Son? Resistance? Did you honestly think that I was going to stand between you taking my daughter – your future wife – with you to take care of your sick father? I might seem like a mean son-of-a-bitch, but I ain’t. Well, ‘less I have to be. Hell, Alec, I love you like you’re my own. Whenever you get the gumption to go ahead and get married, you’ll be just as much family as she is. Hell, to tell you the truth, you are right now. Appreciate my understanding? Shit, that’s almost funny.”
My throat constricted and my mouth went dry. I didn’t know how to respond. I shifted my eyes toward Katie and met her gaze. As we shared a silent moment, she grinned.
“Stand up,” her father said in a demanding tone.
I looked up and realized he had stood from his chair and was hovering over me. I stood, only to be immediately pulled into a hug. As he held me in his arms and patted my back with his hand, he gave me all of the reassurance I needed to understand what he was allowing us to do came from deep within his heart.
“I love you, Son,” he said.
As his words sank in, I realized I was an extremely fortunate man.
A month prior, as far as I was concerned, I had no parents.
And now, I had two loving fathers.
Chapter Two Hundred Eighty-Four
Late Summer 2015, Wichita, Kansas, USA
I hadn’t spent any time in my father’s home to speak of since I was eighteen years old. Being
there at length brought a rush of memories with it, some good, and some not-so-good. As he slept and Katie cleaned the house, I looked through cabinets, boxes, and drawers for memories of my mother.
The deepest memory came not only of her, but of Suzanne.
I pulled the egg-shaped bottle from the bathroom cabinet and removed the lid. It became my mother’s signature scent, and the bottle was something I remembered seeing on a regular basis as a child, but I hadn’t associated the smell with my recollection of the bottle – or with my mother – yet.
I pressed the tip of the nozzle and sprayed some of the fragrance into the air. As I watched the small droplets fall toward the floor, I craned my neck toward them and inhaled slowly.
Immediately, I pulled my head back and wrinkled my nose.
The scent reminded me not only of my mother, but of Suzanne.
Confused, I turned the bottle to the side and lowered my nose to the tip of the nozzle. The perfume, without a doubt, was what Suzanne wore. It angered me that she wore my mother’s perfume, but what eventually caused me to feel enraged was that I had spent my entire time in combat associating Suzanne with the scent of my mother’s perfume.
It was as if I had been robbed of a memory of my mother, or that somehow it had been replaced with a new one. Maybe it was something that happened over time, I decided, and wasn’t a conscious thing at all. In the end, as I carried the bottle to the trash, I decided the only reason I liked Suzanne in the first place must have been because of how she smelled, not the person she was.
I walked through the kitchen, past Katie, and out the back door. I tossed the bottle of perfume into the trash container, slammed the lid, and walked inside.
“I like the way you smell,” I said as I walked past her.
I paused at the doorway leading to the living room and turned to face her. “What is it?”
“Flowerbomb,” she responded. “And, I like the way you smell, too. What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Just getting rid of some stuff.”
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