by Dahlia West
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly after she sat down.
Calla looked up. “For what?”
He gestured around the cafeteria. “For taking you on the worst date you’ve ever been on.”
Surprisingly, she laughed. “Are you kidding? Sightseeing? And lunch? There’s even dessert,” she said, holding up her container of tapioca. “I’ve been on worse dates.”
“Oh, come on.”
“No, really. Not the worst. Not even close.”
“I don’t believe it.”
She grinned. “Junior year. Kenny Kopeckne asked me to the winter formal. But he got the flu the day before.”
“And he stood you up.”
“Oh no,” Calla said. “Nope. He picked me up. Right at seven. Sweating bullets, pale as a sheet. We made it all the way to the school parking lot. Then he puked on my lap.”
Adam couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh, God.”
“His car was a two-seater, so I had to sit in it all the way back home. Even with the windows rolled down, the smell…” Calla wrinkled her nose. “To this day, I can’t see fuchsia without getting nauseated.”
Adam grinned. “I don’t know which is worse, the vomit or a fuchsia dress. Though probably vomit on a fuchsia dress takes the cake.”
“It was the nineties!” Calla shot back. “Fuchsia was in.”
Adam shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Wearing fuchsia, crap tattoos… It’s a wonder you’ve gotten this far, Calla. You’ve made a lot of bad life-choices. ”
She stuck out her tongue. “Like dating you.”
He laughed. “Oh, on the contrary, I think dating me is the best decision you ever made.”
Instead of laughing with him, she stopped.
He looked up from his tray.
“I’m starting to think so, too,” she said quietly.
“Calla,” he replied, just as quietly. But he didn’t know what to say to that. He wanted to say ‘Thank you’, and ‘I’m sorry’, and ‘I wish it wasn’t like this’, but it all got jumbled in his throat.
“A man who loves his family,” she said. “Would do anything for them. It’d be the same with me, wouldn’t it? If it got that far.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say it already was that far, but it was too much, too soon. It wasn’t the right time, certainly not the right place. Nothing with Calla ever felt right, or rather being with her was the only thing that felt right but everything else being so wrong seemed to taint it. Once again he was struck by the fact that she deserved better.
“You don’t need this,” he said.
“But I want you.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Adam opened one eye with a jolt. Ava stood over him, making a face. He rubbed his face and glanced around the living room. Pop was planted in his favorite chair with the morning news blaring. How had he slept through it? Adam wondered.
“You’re on my notebook,” his sister told him.
Adam contorted himself out of the way so she could retrieve it. The crick in his neck had a lot to say about that. As he sat up, he tried in vain to tug out the wrinkles in the clothes he’d slept in.
“You look like hell,” Ava informed him.
Adam glared at her. She shrugged and shuffled off to the kitchen where Jonah was leaning against the counter, cereal bowl in hand. Their eyes met. Jonah didn’t say anything, but Adam caught the message of gratitude. He’d crashed on the couch just in case Pop didn’t sleep through the night. A few feet away was infinitely better than a few miles. Adam stretched, muttered a ‘good morning’ to all and sundry, and stumbled off in search of a shower. As the hot water kneaded his aching neck, he considered today at length. There would be no easy way, no band aid to rip off. Getting Pop into the car would be pretty easy, trouble was, it was all uphill from there. He dried his hair with a guest towel and put his clothes back on. He should probably do his own laundry, he supposed. Ava had enough chores.
More or less presentable, he sauntered back into the living room and picked up the remote control. Turning the volume down, he looked at Pop. “Put your shoes on, Pop.”
Pop frowned at him. “Why?”
“Got errands to run.”
Pop considered this, definitely wary given the last time they’d had an ‘errand’.
“It’s not a doctor,” Adam swore, which was mostly true. It wasn’t a doctor’s visit.
The old man finally gave in and pulled on his boots. Adam walked him out to the car and put him in the passenger seat. As he crossed the front of the car to the driver’s side, he briefly considered locking the doors once he got in. No telling what Pop would do when he discovered the truth about where they were going. If Pop didn’t jump and roll, he was likely to punch Adam in the mouth for his trouble. Adam figured one more bruise would hardly be noticeable at this point.
He revved the engine and pulled out of the driveway. “Nice day,” he said casually.
Pop grunted. “Getting hot already.”
Adam looked out the windshield at the fierce morning sun. “Can’t argue with that.”
Neither of them spoke as he taxied them through the morning traffic though out of the corner of his eye, Adam saw Pop visibly tense then relax as they made it past the turn they would have taken if they’d actually been headed back to the doctor’s office. Unable to put off the truth of their destination any longer, Adam held his breath as he pulled slowly into the parking lot of Shady Oaks and took the closest spot to the front doors. He put the Charger in park but kept the engine running for the air conditioner. Pop sat in indignant silence for a moment as he scanned the front of the building. “Shuffling me off,” he muttered angrily.
“It’s not like that,” Adam insisted.
“The hell it isn’t.”
“You’re not staying.”
“So put the damn car in gear and go.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Pop demanded.
“I mean, I can’t do this. It’s… hard. And Pop, it’s getting harder.”
The old man was quiet as he stared out the window instead of looking at Adam. “I get tired, is all,” he said softly.
Adam sighed. He’d come to understand that Pop said “tired” when he meant he’d had an episode. He was aware that things weren’t right, but didn’t seem to be able to accept it.
“It’s more than that, Pop,” Adam said gently.
Pop didn’t respond.
“You fought with Jonah.”
The old man scoffed. “Argued, is all,” he snapped.
Adam could tell that the old man didn’t remember the previous night. “You almost hit him.”
Slowly, Pop turned and finally met Adam’s gaze.
For the first time in his life, Adam thought he might be about to see the old man cry.
Pop shook his head, almost violently. “I wouldn’t have done that. Not to Jonah.”
“You did.”
Pop stared at Adam for as long as he could seem to stand it, then looked away again, preferring the view out the window. “Always said I’d be lost without her.”
“You’re not lost,” Adam replied and took his father’s hand.
Pop squeezed it tightly. “Not yet.”
“You always took care of us; I want to take care of you,” Adam told him. He glanced at the squat, brick nursing home ahead of them. “This isn’t exactly the way I want to do it.”
“Ava’s got trouble,” Pop replied.
Adam weighed his words before he answered. “She’s a kid dealing with way too much.” After a moment, he added, “Jonah’s trying.”
Pop sighed heavily. “I never wanted to be a burden.”
“You’re not! That’s not what this is.”
“It is.”
Adam rankled. It was hard enough to have to turn his father over to strangers, even for just a few hours a day. He’d be damned if the old man thought it was because he was a burden to them. “Screw that!” he barked. “A burden? You think yo
u’re a burden? Was Mom a burden?”
Pop’s whole body tensed at that. “You watch your mouth.”
“She wasn’t,” Adam added quickly. “Of course she wasn’t! And neither are you.”
“Sorry,” Pop replied. “Sorry you were alone then.”
Stunned, Adam didn’t know how to answer. “I… I wasn’t.”
Pop scoffed again. “I wasn’t any kind of help.”
Adam frowned. Pop had been unable to deal with seeing the woman he loved brought so low by such a destructive disease. Adam had taken over, doling out medications, changing the sheets, whatever had been necessary at the time.
“You were,” Adam argued. “You helped.”
“Bullshit.”
“The tulips,” Adam reminded him.
Mom had been too tired to plant the bulbs in the spring. Pop had been content to let it go, just for one year, but when Mom had finally been bedridden, the old man had left the house early one morning. He’d come back with a flat of blooming tulips in various colors. He’d probably paid for them through the nose at a greenhouse.
Pop sniffed at the memory. “Didn’t mean anything.”
“She loved them.”
Pop scowled. “She couldn’t even see them.”
Adam let go of his father’s hand and reached into his pocket. He pulled out his cellphone and tapped the screen. “She saw them,” he replied, holding up the photo taken from the bedroom window. Pop had brought a few stems to her bedside table, of course, but she’d preferred the photo Adam had taken for her. “You loved her.”
The old man pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Not enough.”
Adam had to smile at that. “Well, no one loved her enough, Pop. She was one in a million.”
Pop nodded. “You gave her the pills, though.”
Adam’s fingers tightened on the phone. “But you planted the flowers,” he said evenly. “Both eased her way.”
Pop turned away and looked again at the building. “Guess it’s time for me to ease yours.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Adam’s second appointment of the afternoon had taken longer than he’d planned and his long-awaited nap had to be skipped. He fought to keep himself awake as he drove across town to pick up Pop. He hadn’t gotten a call from the center to come and get Pop, and he had to assume no news was good news. Pop hadn’t laid anyone out or walked away. That was something, at least.
Adam pulled up to Shady Oaks, prepared to get out of the car to fetch his dad, but the old man was already sitting on a bench outside, waiting. Adam thought that didn’t bode too well. Pop hadn’t left the premises, but he clearly hadn’t stuck around for the offered activities. The old man got up off the bench, crossed the sidewalk, and slid into the passenger seat. As he shut the door, Adam asked, “How’d it go?” even though he was wary of the answer.
Pop grunted, which for Pop, was not the best sign.
Adam sighed. He really needed this to work out. Jonah had trouble keeping Pop awake during the afternoons and disrupting the man’s sleep schedule seemed to bring on episodes. It was unreasonable to ask an 18-year-old-boy to care for a parent with encroaching dementia. Adam could see that now. The day program was their only option.
“Pop?” Adam prodded.
Another grunt. “It’s mostly women,” he said sullenly. “Old biddies in slippers with blue hair.”
Adam bit his lip and tried not to laugh at the description.
“There’s a guy there,” Pop added.
“Oh, yeah?” Adam asked hopefully.
Pop sneered. “Retired Army.”
“Oh,” Adam replied. Pop kept up the armed services rivalry as if it were his own religion. “What’s his name?”
“I don’t know. Army Asshole.”
Adam didn’t know what to say to that so he pulled the Charger away from the building. He supposed it might be too much to ask for Pop to make friends at the center.
After a moment of silence, though, Pop said, “I’ll find out tomorrow.”
Adam figured he couldn’t ask for much more than that. Once they arrived at the house, Pop headed straight for the Barcalounger. Adam tossed his keys onto the side table. There was no one in the living room, but he could hear the shower running down the hall. There was no way to know whether it was Ava or Jonah. On the chance that it was his sister in the bathroom, Adam headed toward Jonah’s room. He supposed with Pop in the day program, Jonah could get his old job back, if that was what the kid wanted.
As he reached Jonah’s closed bedroom door and reached up to knock, he paused. From behind the door he heard a sound so unlikely, so out of place, that Adam’s hand froze in midair. Laughing. Someone was laughing. Adam himself had never heard Jonah laugh, which would have been a singular thing in and of itself. But far stranger than that, was that it was a female laugh.
Adam stood in place outside the door, unsure what to do. As he turned away, he finally heard Jonah’s voice from inside the room.
“Come on,” he said. “Sienna—”
Oh, hell, no, Adam thought suddenly. “No, no, no, no, no,” he muttered to himself as he reached for the knob. It was locked. Angrily, Adam felt along the top of the doorframe for the brass spike kept above every bedroom and bathroom door. His fingers located it and brought it down. Without bothering to knock, he shoved the long, thin metal “key” into the tiny hole in the center of the knob. He jammed it in hard, heard the lock pop, and shoved open the bedroom door without knocking.
“Son of a bitch!” he shouted.
Stretched out on Jonah’s twin bed, Adam’s old bed more accurately, was his youngest brother, fully clothed thank God, not that Adam could say the same of Sienna. She shrieked as Jonah protested the invasion. The topless teenage girl flung about wildly for her shirt and yanked it up to cover herself.
“This is not happening!” Adam cried.
Sienna frantically tugged her T-shirt over her head, cheeks burning. Something like a sob caught in her throat. Adam did feel a bit bad about his decision to burst through the door. He hadn’t thought it through. He stepped back and pressed himself against the hallway wall as Sienna darted past him, ducking her head. She only took a few steps before the bathroom door opened.
“What’s going on?” Ava demanded. She stepped out into the hall, wrapped in a towel. Her wet hair covered her eyes. When she swept it off her forehead she stared in shock at the sight of her best friend. “Sienna?”
Sienna ignored Ava, bolted past her, and down the hall. Ava looked back at Adam. “What- what? Oh my God!”
“You need to go home!” Adam yelled at Sienna’s retreating form. A stupid thing to say because that was obviously exactly where the seventeen-year-old girl was headed. Seconds later, he heard the sliding glass door off the kitchen open and close.
“Jonah, goddammit!” Adam seethed. He flexed his hands, willing himself to calm down even though all he wanted to do was berate the kid. When he had himself under control, he said, “We need to talk.”
Jonah was already up off the bed. He’d opened his closet and was shoving clothes into a backpack. “The hell we do,” he said gruffly.
“This is unacceptable, Jonah,” Adam said. “She’s seventeen!”
Jonah wasn’t listening, or if he was, he had nothing to say for himself. He slung the bag over his shoulder and headed toward Adam, and the exit.
Adam reached out and grabbed his arm. “Hey! Don’t walk away from me. This—”
“Don’t ever fucking touch me!” Jonah bellowed. Lightning fast, he jerked himself out of Adam’s grip. With the other hand he shoved Adam against the wall.
Adam was so surprised he could only blink. Jonah looked a bit stunned as well. The two of them stood awkwardly, filling the small space, until Jonah took his hand off Adam’s chest.
“I… I’m sorry,” Jonah muttered. “I gotta go.”
Adam watched him walk down the hall. Instead of the back door like Sienna, he heard the front door slam. Numbly, he heade
d out to the living room.
Pop muted the television and looked up, frowning. “Where’s Jonah going? It’s late.”
Adam stared at the front door. “Um… to stay with a friend.” He was only guessing, though. As far as Adam knew, Jonah didn’t have friends.
Pop frowned.
“It’s not you,” Adam assured him. “There… there was a girl in his room.”
The old man’s eyebrows shot up.
“Sienna,” Adam clarified. “Ava’s friend.”
The old man grimaced.
Adam stepped forward and snatched his keys off the table. “I should go after him.”
Pop shook his head. “Let him go.”
“Pop, he’s got nowhere to go. He’s—”
“He’s a complicated boy,” Pop replied. “I learned a long time ago, Jonah’s more resourceful than you’d think. He’ll be alright.”
Adam stared at his father. “You’re not worried about him?”
“Son, I’ve been worried about Jonah since the day I met him. But worrying won’t help that boy. What Jonah needs is space.”
Adam gaped. “He’s had nothing but space his whole life! This is serious, Pop. For one, she’s underage!”
Pop considered this at length. “Well, he’s not with her now.”
“So…” Adam couldn’t believe it. “So you’re just going to let him go?”
As upset as Adam felt, Pop seemed calm. “You have to let him go. That’s how it works. You don’t go to Jonah. Jonah comes to you.”
“But—”
“Jonah comes to you… or he runs.”
Adam’s fist tightened on the car keys. “Runs,” he repeated.
Pop sighed heavily and thumbed the off button on the television. “He ran away once.”
Adam tried to process what he was hearing. “I don’t remember that.” He couldn’t tell if Pop was having an episode. The old man seemed clear-headed, though.
