Page 67 of Dream with Me

“Troy, I’ll do whatever you want... whatever you need. If you want to sit here all evening, all night, I’ll sit with you. If you want to leave and drive home in the middle of this blizzard, I’ll follow you. But I kind of wonder if you drove here in a snowstorm because maybe you did want a chance to see him.” My tone is gentle. I give his hand a light squeeze. “We’ll do whatever you want.”

“Does it make me weak if I want to see him, especially if I don’t know why?” The words are practically whispered.

On instinct, I take my free hand and wrap it over our clasped ones, needing more connection in the moment.

“No, it makes you human. Look at me, please.” He hesitates but then meets my eye. “There is nothing weak about you. Not one thing. Physically, you’re strong, but in every other way as well. You’ve always been a source of strength to me and the kids. You arenotweak.”

“Will you go with me?” he asks.

“If that’s what you want, then yes.”

Fifteen minutes later, we’ve met Annette, and she shows us to Doug’s room then gives us some privacy. Troy and I stand together by the door, and both stare at the lethargic, ill man in the bed. He’s intensely jaundiced and so gaunt—everywhere but his belly, which is distended with fluid—that it’s almost shocking.

“Why don’t you go sit in the chair by the bed, and I’ll be right over there if you need me. Okay?” I gesture to a small loveseat near where we are standing. He nods.

I watch from the loveseat over the next few minutes while Troy sits quietly at Doug’s bedside. His hand is on the bed but not touching the man who left him all those years ago.

He says nothing at first but then clears his throat.

“Hi. It looks like you’re asleep, but I wanted you to know I’m here. I-I got your letter, and I’m sorry you’re sick.” He pauses for thirty seconds or so and I can tell by the way he’s pinching at the sheets on the bed that he’s nervous. “Annette seems nice. I-I don’t know if you know, but Mom’s gone. She died a few years ago. D-don’t worry. She did a good job raising me. I’m okay. I’m a firefighter now. I have been for approaching fifteen years. And I got married... to my high school sweetheart, even. We’ve got four kids, from three and a half to twelve. I’m teaching my oldest boy things in the workshop like you did with me.”

My emotions rise up into my throat. I didn’t know that’s where Troy got his love of woodworking.

“I’ve... I’ve had a happy and great life. I want you to know that. I don’t want you to leave here worrying about me. I’m gonna be okay.”

Troy looks down at the bedding, so he doesn’t notice that Doug’s eyes have opened.

“Tr—Tr—Troy.” Doug’s weak, raspy voice causes Troy’s head to whip up to look at the man. Even the whites of his eyes are yellowed, and his poor lips are dry and cracked.

“Hi,” Troy whispers.

Doug’s frail hand touches Troy’s, and Troy doesn’t pull away.

“Happy?” Doug strains to get even the single word out, but the desperation in his expression makes it clear this matters to him, and my heart softens slightly for him.

“Yeah, I’m happy. Everything is good for me. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Doug’s breathing visibly relaxes, and his facial expression softens.

“Good,” Doug whispers. His eyes shift over to look at me, then back at Troy. “Wife?”

“She’s... it’s comp?—”

“Yes, I’m his wife, Shannon.” Before I know it, I’m kneeling next to Troy, and he’s staring at me. I turn my gaze back to Doug. “Your son is an amazing man, Doug. He’s smart, strong, and an amazing father and husband. He’s got a lot of people who love him, and we’ll take care of him. I promise.”

Doug manages a weak smile. “Thank you,” he whispers. I smile at him and nod.

I rise and squeeze Troy’s shoulder on my way back to my spot on the two-seater. It’s clear that Doug is fatigued even with the short visit, and he appears to be struggling to keep his eyes open, his voice getting weaker. It’s like he’s using all of his strength to focus on Troy.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry. Please... forg-g-ive me.” Doug’s shoulders visibly drop after he gets the words out, like he needed to use all the muscles he could to speak them.

“I forgive you. You can rest now. Don’t try to talk more.” Troy swipes at his face, “I forgive you...”

We must stay there for five minutes after Doug falls asleep. Then Troy stands and walks over to me. “I’m ready.”

I step out the doorway before him, and when his hand finds the small of my back, nothing in me desires to pull away. On the contrary, I want to melt further into him.

Just before Troy steps into the hall with me, I hear him whisper, “Bye, Dad.”

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