Page 14 of Lassoed Love

I freeze, realisation hitting me straight to the gut. My intuition, telling me to just go along with what he’s saying to see if my assumptions are correct, consumes me.

“Oh, really? Where did she go?” I manage to stammer out, trying to process the moment.

My father responds casually, “Oh, she just ran to the grocery store—ran out of them damn apples that she needs for her homemade apple pie, you know, them green ones, all sour ‘n shit,” he exclaims with an unexpected burst of animosity, yet a smile adorns his face.

Oh my god. Surely, no.The tears that threatened to spill just before now slowly break the surface. A lone tear slipping down my cheek.

I remember when Mum used to make her homemade apple pies.

Overwhelmed, I abruptly get off the chair, and I force a smile, attempting to conceal the turmoil brewing within me. “Um, youknow what, Dad? I just realised I need to run to the grocery store for a few things for dinner. It completely slipped my mind,” I say, my voice shaky with the unexpected upheaval of emotions.Lie.

I turn to leave, desperately trying to hold back tears and hoping he won’t see the distress etched on my face.

“Dinner? You were just about to sit down. What happened?” My father looks puzzled, and at this point, tears are freely falling. I keep my head down, unable to meet his gaze.

“Yeah, I know, but it’s last-minute stuff. Can’t have dinner without it.” I lie, again, my voice shaky with the unexpected surge of emotions.

Desperation for air grips me. “Oh.. well, don’t you wanna wait for ya Mum? At least to say hi?” he asks, and I freeze. The mention of Mum in the present tense, as if she’s still around, adds another layer of pain.

“No, it’s fine. She can catch me later. Just need to grab a few things,” I manage to mumble, repeating my words, as I open the door to leave, the weight of the revelation heavy on my shoulders.

I manage a weak, “Thank you for tea, Dad,” as I practically run out, the door slamming behind me. Rushing to my car, I’m desperate for air. I can’t breathe. My body starts to heave. Anxiety courses through my body, making my hands tremble as I clutch the side of my car for support. I feel the familiar sensation of nausea creeping up my throat, threatening to overwhelm me.

Breathe, Isla. Deep breaths—In, out, in, out,I chant in my head, trying to calm the rising panic.

Hunched over, I try to regain my composure, but the weight of the realisation continues to press down on me, threatening to crush me. Tears well up in my eyes, and I can’t hold them back any longer. Eventually, I manage to pull my keys out of my pocket, but my trembling hands make them clatter to the ground.

The sound of the keys clattering to the ground intensifies my breakdown, and I cry out even more as I pick them up. Fiddling with the keys, I manage to open the car door and collapse into the driver’s seat. As I turn the key to start the ignition, I look up at the house, and through my blurred vision, I can just make out Dad standing by the screen door, watching.Oh god.The weight of his gaze only adds to my anguish, and I start the engine, desperate to escape.

Putting the car in reverse, I drive away, leaving behind a flood of memories and a father who now seems like a stranger.

My heart pounds with the weight of guilt. I've been gone for so long that I had no idea my father has fucking dementia—Is it dementia? I actually don’t fucking know what just happened…

I’ve been around enough people, however, in my life to know what signs of early onset dementia look like. My Pop had it, so did Nana, Dad’s mother and father.It’s hereditary, so it would make sense.I don’t know.

As the distance between me and the house grows, the weight of my absence over these past years bears down on me.How long has this been going on for? Does anyone know? If only I had been here, I would have seen signs. I would have noticed the subtle changes in his demeanour.

The guilt intensifies, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve missed out on such crucial moments in his life. He’s been all alone. My surge of emotions make it hard to focus on the road, but I keep driving, desperately hoping that somehow, just somehow, I can make up for the lost time.

A nauseating wave of regret settles in the pit of my stomach.

What have I done?

8

Decode - Paramore

Hurricane - I Prevail

Morning creeps in with a stubborn persistence, and I find myself groggily waking to a reality still stained by yesterday’s revelations. The weight of my dad’s condition hangs in the air, a heavy fog that refuses to dissipate. Sleep has been elusive, leaving me in a daze as the first light of day sneaks through my window.

With a heavy heart, I decide to take the day off from the clinic. The emotional toll of yesterday’s events demands attention, and I just can’t bring myself to face the routine of work today. I roll over to my side and reach for my phone on my bedside table. Dialling Katy’s number, not the clinic’s, I sit up, resting my back up against the headboard.

In less than a minute, Katy’s voice fills my ear. “Hello, dear?”

“Hey, Katy. I’m so sorry, but I won't be able to make it to work today.” Katy responds with immediate concern.

“Darling, is everything okay? You sound a bit off.”

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