That would kind of, sort of, make up for a few things, wouldn’t it?
Maybe not, but it was a start.
WEST STOOD in the doorway and looked across the floor of his father’s kitchen, where a river of milk meandered across the tile, curving its way past islands of oat-bran cereal.
“Dad, what happened?”
“Huh? Oh, that.” His father edged past him into the kitchen. “Somebody’s damn cat tripped me.”
“Where is the cat?”
“I locked the ornery thing outside where it belongs. Don’t know what it was doing in here in the first place. Is it yours?”
“Yes, he’s mine,” West lied, hoping it would keep the cat safe for the time being. They’d been going around and around about Moe the cat for the past few days. It was crazy-making how conversations they’d had minutes earlier would resurface, again and again and again and again, ad infinitum.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d let him stay inside when it’s cold out.”
“I never did like cats,” the General grumbled as he peered in the refrigerator.
Entirely untrue. His dad had adored Moe.
Had? The word sent a chill up West’s spine. He’d begun to think of his father as if he was already gone, as if this belligerent man a few feet away wasn’t actually the General.
He was, but he wasn’t. All the things that had made him who he was were fading fast, leaving behind a person West barely recognized. His father had once been a passionate duck hunter, a fisherman, an avid golfer, a reader of historical biographies, a lover of talk radio and a dispenser of unwanted advice. He’d been a doting cat lover who spoiled Moe with fresh fish and frequent brushings. He’d been pushy and pigheaded and arrogant, always. But he’d also been a man of unwavering moral fortitude. There had never been an ounce of doubt in West’s mind that his dad tried his best to do the right thing.
And now…How could he have lost the essence of himself? Where had his dad gone?
West grabbed a handful of paper towels from the counter and began cleaning up the mess on the floor. Thank God his father hadn’t tripped over the cat, or slipped in the milk and suffered a fall.
He’d gotten the cereal and milk halfway cleaned up when he heard the doorbell ring. His father ignored the sound, so West stood and went to the front door, wet paper towels still in hand.
He found his mother standing on the front porch.
She gave him a grim look.
“What’s wrong, Mom? What are you doing here?”
“Oh, nothing’s wrong,” she said. “It’s just odd being here again…” She was looking around as if seeing everything for the first time. “I don’t think I’ve come back to the house since the divorce.”
He absorbed this information. And it was true-it was odd having his mother standing on the porch of the last home where they’d been a family. She should have fit right in here, but she didn’t anymore, not when she looked so whole and healthy and set apart from the decay that had overtaken the place.
“Did you come here to see me?”
“I came to see you and your father both.”
West was stunned silent. His parents hadn’t exactly had an amicable divorce, thanks mostly to his father’s unwavering insistence that he was right and Julia was wrong about everything. As a result they didn’t stop by for impromptu visits with each other.
“I’ve thought about your dilemma, and I’ve decided to help with your father’s care.”
His silence grew louder, and he realized his mouth was hanging open.
“I know this is unexpected,” she said calmly. “But it’s what my conscience is telling me to do.”
“But…Mom, I don’t know. Things are difficult here.”
“I’m better equipped to deal with him than most people are.”
“You got divorced for good reasons.” West shook his head, trying to absorb this new, bizarre turn of events.
Maybe his mother was losing her marbles, too. But standing there in her red wool coat and with her gray hair perfectly neat and her brown eyes so warm and alert, he couldn’t see the slightest hint of craziness.
And he was relieved to see her. She was capable. She’d know what to do.
“I don’t expect you to understand now, but you will someday, once you’ve been married to someone for a good portion of your life.”
She said this with such finality, West knew better than to argue. His mother didn’t make any decision rashly. She’d probably been up all night thinking about it.
But this…
This didn’t sound like his mom talking.
“What do you mean by help?” he finally asked.
“I mean, I’m volunteering to be his primary-care person until he needs more intensive care than I can provide.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. He’ll drive you crazy,” West said, his voice lowered so that his father couldn’t overhear.
“You said he’s been sexually harassing his caregivers, right?”
West nodded, not all that inclined to discuss the matter further with his mother.
“I’m the one woman he’s sure not to sexually harass,” she said as if that decided the matter.
Okay, so maybe she just needed to see for herself what she was getting into.
“Mom…”
“Don’t argue with me. My mind is made up.”
He was silent, trying to decide what he could say.
“West, please, don’t make this any more difficult than it already is.”
“If you’re sure about this…”
“I am.”
“Come on in and have a visit with your new patient then.”
Her expression grew the faintest bit uncertain. “Will he recognize me, do you think?”
“Yeah, I think he will,” West said, though he didn’t know anything about his dad for sure these days. “I’ll get you a cup of coffee, and you can say hi to him.”
He stepped aside and motioned her in.
His mother looked even more apprehensive now, but she took a tentative step forward, then another, until she was all the way inside.
She looked around at what had changed and what had stayed the same. He recalled how the foyer used to be filled with the scent of fresh flowers, where now there was only a stale odor of last night’s dinner mingled with the faint scent of cat pee.
To their right, the formal living room looked nothing like it used to, West recalled. It had gone through the decorating changes of two wives, along with his father’s own sparse tendencies. Where once there had been family photos on the mantel, now there was nothing but an antique clock because his father didn’t see the point of having so many “dust catchers” sitting around.
To the left the study, which had always been his father’s domain, had barely changed in all the years he’d owned the house. Same imposing desk, same shelves of books, same military awards and prints covering the walls, same air of severity that had always dominated his father’s life…until recently.
“He’s in the kitchen,” West said, leading his mom down the hallway, toward the sound of his father muttering.
“Was that his cat I saw on the front lawn?”
“Yeah, he’s banished from the house right now because Dad doesn’t remember having a cat,” West whispered.
His mother’s expression turned even darker. “I’ll be sure and pick up some allergy medicine today,” she said, her light tone sounding forced.
“Who’s there?” his father called as they entered the kitchen.
West held out a hand to keep his mom from stepping in the spilled cereal.
“Dad, it’s Mom. She stopped in to say hi.”
His father turned, scowling, toward them. “Julia, where the hell have you been?” he demanded, as if she’d stepped out for groceries and had stayed gone for ten years.
She looked from the General to West, bewildered, but she answered, “Oh, here and there. How have you been, John?”
“Awful,” he muttered, taking out a pan now and putting it on the stove.