Page 31 of Thick and Thin

By Monday morning, my father was better than he’d been in a long time—it was as if that infusion had turned back the clock at least two or three years.

So while we ate breakfast, I said, “Don’t overdo it, dad. I know you feel like you could run a marathon, but pace yourself.”

He laughed heartily. “Sweetheart, I couldn’t have done that even when I was your age.”

“You know what I mean. I’m so glad you feel good—but you still wear out easily. So, like, if you want to take a walk, don’t go six blocks and then realize you don’t have the energy to come back home. Walk to the corner and back.”

“I don’t think I can do that yet—but I might try cleaning up the backyard a bit. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to putter around.” Fortunately, when I was in high school, he’d been all about creating a xeriscaped yard, so in the back, we had a lot of native plants and flowers that didn’t need to be watered, save what came from the sky. Of course, the weeds always seemed to thrive as well—and, once dad got so sick that he couldn’t do as much as he used to, I always made sure the weeds were taken care of out front, but I couldn’t always get to the back.

“Okay—but still…be careful, okay? Please text me once in a while so I know you’re all right.”

“I will—and you need to text me to let me know you made it back up there safely.”

He was, of course, talking about Denver. We’d talked about it yesterday afternoon when it became evident he was doing pretty well. He was definitely in better shape than he’d been when I’d gone to Denver the first time.

“I promise.” Getting up, I rinsed off my plate and poured out the last few drops of coffee into the sink. “You’re sure you don’t want me to wash these dishes?”

“Heavens no. They’ll be waiting when you come back for my next treatment.”

I turned back around, ready to tell him that was ridiculous, but his grin stretched from ear to ear. Smiling back, I made a mental note that I’d have to thank the staff at the clinic profusely for doing such good for my dad. “I’m telling you…I can do this. I’m looking forward to it. I never would have thought I’d enjoy doing dishes, but I need to get back in the habit of standing for more than thirty seconds at a time.”

“Yes, but please don’t overdo it.”

“I told you I won’t.”

Nodding, I realized I was probably being overbearing—but I was worried about leaving him again. I had to keep reminding myself that I’d be back in less than two weeks to take him to his next appointment and care for him for the few days after. “Okay. Anyway…you’ve got several meals in the freezer. Just thaw and heat them.” Not only was there more lasagna, but I’d also made a shepherd’s pie and tater tot casserole—two more of dad’s favorites—and divvied them up into meal-size portions.

My mind shifting to Denver, I wondered if Sinclair had ever eaten a tater tot.

Dad stood. “Let me walk you out.”

“That’s okay.”

“I want to.”

As we walked from the kitchen to the living room, I marveled at how much faster he was moving. Although he was still using the walker, it was evident that he had so much more energy. Picking up the one suitcase I’d packed to take back, I walked through the door, holding it for my father to follow. But, on the patio, he said, “Maybe I’d better stop here.”

“That’s okay. If you decide you can’t go to the store when you need something, let me know and we’ll set up delivery.”

Although he nodded, I could see in his eyes that he didn’t plan on doing anything of the sort. I imagined he liked riding those motorized carts through the store—but maybe there would come a day when he could walk through the aisles unaided again.

“Thank you for preparing the meals—and for doing the laundry.”

“I was happy to do it, dad.”

“Oh…and the clean sheets. They felt like heaven.”

I hugged him, trying to push back more tears. “It was my pleasure.” I knew I’d see him again soon, but I was torn between two worlds now—and even though I loved people in both, I was certain I would never be whole again in either place.

When I returned to the mansion, Greg greeted me in the alley just as Sinclair had promised. Although he’d offered to park the car for me, I wanted to try doing it myself, so he wound up guiding me in. But I was glad I’d practiced, because even though it was a little tricky, I realized I just had to get used to it. It felt a lot like maneuvering into a tight parking space.

Of course, Sinclair wasn’t there when I arrived because it was early afternoon—but Edna actually greeted me with a hug. Greg offered to take my suitcase to my room but I told him I would—and so after saying hello to Edna, I went upstairs.

It was the strangest feeling. Even after being back home in a cozier, tighter space, the mansion no longer felt overwhelming. Instead, I was overcome with a sensation of having arrived…not home, but something so close. It was, perhaps, a sense of belonging and being welcomed with open arms. Even my room felt cheery and bright, and I tried not to let the melancholy slip back in, this time because I knew I wouldn’t be staying.

I wondered if Edna knew that.

Heading downstairs, I stayed dressed in jeans and a plain blue t-shirt, planning to resume my work in the dungeon, even if only for the remaining afternoon hours. First, though, I stopped in at the kitchen to eat lunch with her, a woman who now felt like a friend I’d returned to.

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