for something. But instead, he just stared, his shoulders dropped and his face void of all emotion.
“Father?”
He glanced around the room then back at me.
“Father, are you—”
“Galahad. How long have I been out of sorts?”
I did not answer. I could only stare back at him. He outstretched his hand for the brief, and part of me knew not to, but another part of me, the hope that just wouldn’t die, outstretched my arm and gave him the folder. In silence, he read, flipping the page to read more. He read quietly to the end and closed it. Gripping it tightly, he tried to form a smile, but it just looked as if his face was pulled in different directions, one of grief and the other trying to remain composed as a king would.
“I understand nothing but the date,” he confessed, swallowing the lump in his throat. “And it isn’t the date in my mind.”
“Father—”
“No.” He held up his hand. “There is no point in my knowing what has happened. I do not know how long it will be until I forget again.”
“Right,” I whispered, looking down at my hands.
“Gale, son...”
I bit my lip, trying harder than ever to remain composed as well. “Yes, Father.”
“Whatever you are struggling through, you shall overcome it.”
I shook my head. “I am unsure if I can. I am not like you, not like Arthur—”
“No one is completely like anyone. I do not know what causes you to feel inadequate. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was because I failed you.”
“Never,” I said quickly, looking at him. “Father, never, it was me who was immature and callous, and—”
“Also, truthful and sincere and trustworthy and loving and slightly humorous at times.” He chuckled. “You have brought me so much joy. Your confidence in yourself was your best trait, which is why it saddens me to see you so.”
“It is hard to be confident when everyone is telling me that I am ruining the world.”
“You never cared what people said before.”
“I could not see what I was before.”
“And you can now?”
“I don’t know. That is the problem, Father. I do not know anything anymore. Are the things that I want to do really wrong? Are the others right? Am I harming the ones I love instead of loving them? I do not know.”
“Do you want to know a secret about being a king?” he asked, leaning forward. “Gale, we all know nothing.”
“Father.” I almost wanted to laugh.
“It is true.” He snickered. “We do not know if something will be good or bad, right or wrong. All we know is that if we go, people will follow. So, we have to go with confidence. We must act with boldness. We must do as if we know what we must do. No matter what, people will complain and holler or cheer and applaud. We will never be perfect, and we will never please everyone, but we shall press on nevertheless and lead. For that is what we do, and what you must do—press on.”
“Press on. Mother says that too. You all make it sound so easy.”
“What would you like us to say? Stay there and be trampled to ash?”
I chuckled, shaking my head at that thought. “No, that might not be the best advice.”
“I wish I could tell you exactly what you need to hear. I wish I could be of more help.”
I reached out, resting my hand upon his. “You have been helped me more than you could ever truly know, Father.”
He placed his other hand onto mine. “You are not as down as you think you are, Gale. You haven’t gotten there yet.”
“Really? It gets worse? Please, I beg not.”
“I know you will because we all get there. You will get to a point where all of the world seems to be pressing on your neck, and you feel utterly defeated.”
“Are you sure I am not there now?”
“I am sure,” he said softly. “Because on that day, your very worst day, you will not look to me or anyone else, but you will stand and act on your own. That is the difference between children and adults, boys and men, princes and kings.”
I stared at him, scared to ask if he remembered Arthur was gone.
I missed him too much to ask and lose him to the fog of his mind.
I wanted to stay just like this.
But I only managed to speak to my father for another few minutes before he started to fade again. It was hard to