early this morning, ate a full breakfast, and took a walk through the park with a few of the others. He’s been very lucid today. The exercise helps.”
Katie reached down and took my hand as we made our way down the wide corridors of the facility. We passed several elderly folks, all of whom Katie waved and said hello to. Most responded with smiles of their own. Some just watched us pass.
“This place smells like desperation and off-brand soda,” Mike grumbled behind us.
“Shut up, Mike.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Well don’t,” I said.
Katie hid her smile and didn’t say a word about our foolish antics. Tiff stopped outside of my father’s door and knocked three times. There was no answer, so she held up a finger and asked us to wait while she made sure my father was decent.
There was something unsettling about having to wait, but we waited nonetheless.
When Tiff returned, she gave us the stamp of approval to go inside. I went in first, followed by Katie and my brother, and we found ourselves in a dimly lit room that smelled like tobacco, leather, and my father’s shaving cream. It was nostalgic and new all at once.
My father sat in a chair by the open window. A gentle breeze blew in, gently tugging at the few strands of white hair still clinging to his mostly bald head. He turned and greeted us with a smile, and his voice trembled when he spoke.
“My boys. It’s good to see you. Come, sit, sit.”
“Hey, Dad,” I said. I went to him, leaned over, and gave him a hug. He was more frail than I ever remembered him being, and he was wearing an argyle vest—a piece of clothing he’d once made me promise I would rip off of him and burn if he ever got old enough to be caught wearing one. The memory made me smile as I thought about how he would react if he had all his faculties and was aware of his ensemble. “It’s good to see you, too. I’ve missed you.”
My father pointed at me with a trembling finger. “I tell these losers in here every day about my sons and they tell me I ain’t got any sons. Well now who’s laughing? Huh?”
“Not those losers,” I said.
“Damn straight!” He bellowed impressively for a man with such small lung capacity. “Damn straight.”
Chapter 28
Katie
I giggled. I couldn’t help it. Peter’s father was a sour old man of the likes I’d only seen in movies and TV shows. All that was missing was a crooked toupee, a plaid shirt, and a pair of dark blue slippers. And perhaps a glass of water on the side table beside his armchair within which his dentures might be floating.
He turned his yellowed eyes to me and frowned. “Who is this young woman? Are you one of my daughters?”
Mike sighed beside me. “You don’t have any daughters, Dad.”
“I don’t?”
“No, you don’t,” Mike said.
I reached out and put a hand on Peter’s father’s knee. “I didn’t know my father very well, Mr. Stenley. I’m flattered you thought I could be your daughter.”
He nodded graciously at me. “Indeed. Although upon second thought, I realize my error. You’re far too pretty to have come from the likes of our gene pool. Look at these boys. Degenerates, the pair of them. Especially that one.” Surprisingly, he nodded at Peter.
Mike snorted.
Peter rolled his eyes. “This joke has been on going since I was eleven.”
“That’s because it’s a good joke,” Mr. Stenley said. “How old are you now, Petey? Seventy? Sixty-four?”
“Thirty-two,” Peter said flatly while his brother cackled on my other side. “And don’t call me Petey anymore. I’m not a child.”
I hid my smile behind my hand.
“In my mind, you’re always a child,” their father said.
“Can’t argue with that one,” Mike said. “How have they been treating you in this place, Dad? Good food? Good company? Any single ladies throwing interested looks your way?”
Mr. Stenley laughed and shook his head. All of his movements were delayed and slow. “They’re good people here. They feed me well. Lots of meat and potatoes. Vegetables too but you know how I feel about those things.”
“They have no place on a dinner plate,” Mike and Peter said in unison.
“Exactly,” their father agreed, probably not realizing they were merely repeating back to him what he’d likely been saying his entire life. “Too much green shit on my plate all the time here. Not enough meat. You know, the good stuff. Tried to convince them to