Page 8 of Thick and Thin

The man I’d seen when it had just been the two of us…had he ever really existed? Was he an act the real Sinclair put up even as much as the angry version of himself? Would he always be protecting that young unloved child so much that he would never allow someone in?

As we walked by the kitchen, I kept my head buried. I couldn’t allow myself to see Edna’s face, because if she were distraught about my leaving, I might second-guess myself. Even she, the woman who served as his surrogate mother all those years, hadn’t been enough to counteract the damage his father’s coldness had wrought on his heart. And if Edna hadn’t been able to change him, what had made me think I could?

When we reached the end of the hall, I again had the thought that I would never be back here and I said another silent goodbye. Sinclair opened the door, letting me walk in first, so many unspoken words between us. He led us straight to the silver Lexus and pulled some keys out of his pocket. After removing a key fob, he started to explain to me how to start the car. “I can’t take your Lexus.”

“You can and you will.”

After placing my suitcases in the trunk and giving me a quick explanation of everything I’d need to know about the car—including its built-in navigation system—Sinclair took me in his arms, holding me tightly like he had on Saturday night. If he truly did view me as nothing more than a possession…at least I was precious. More precious than his car.

And then he kissed me—and it was like our first kiss had been…consuming, greedy, dominating…reminding me that I did love him, that part of me didn’t want to leave.

When his lips left mine, he asked, “Will you come back?”

I didn’t have to think about it. “Yes.”

After I backed out of the garage, helped by the rearview camera, something my own car didn’t have, I gave Sinclair a tiny wave, as if I were just going on a quick run to the store. Before leaving the alley, I programmed the navigation system with my old address in Winchester.

I hadn’t realized the first part of my journey would be delayed due to morning traffic—but the navigation system helped me relax despite the bumper-to-bumper vehicles on the road, and I allowed the tears to begin to fall again. Silently, I thanked Sinclair, especially when I saw that the tank was full. I hadn’t know at the time that it was a hybrid and burned gas far more slowly than my old yet reliable vintage vehicle back at home.

When I reached Monument, my stomach was growling and my throat was dry. After pulling into the McDonald’s parking lot, I checked myself in the mirror. It was evident that I’d been crying, so when I went inside, I went to the restroom first. Then, using my debit card, I ordered a cheap breakfast, along with coffee and water, and sat in a corner by a window.

First, I called the clinic again and told them to keep my father’s appointment booked. He and I would both be there on Thursday.

And then I called my father. “Dad, I’m on my way home. I will be taking you to your appointment on Thursday.”

“Lise, I’ve already told them—”

“No arguments. I’ll be home soon.”

And that meant the time for tears had to be over.

The best-laid plans…as soon as I took my father into my arms, the tears began to spill from my eyes like waterfalls. It wasn’t just because of our reunion but it was everything overall. He hadn’t been able to keep up with the housework and it was almost as if he were living in squalor. He’d set a trashcan beside his recliner, but it was now overfull with tissues and discarded mail. There were two coffee mugs, three water glasses, a bowl, plate, and silverware on the television tray he’d set to the side and a thin layer of dust over everything.

I was almost afraid of going to the kitchen.

However, I had several days here with my dad. Although I’d promised Sinclair that I’d return, I hadn’t said when. While it was comforting to see my father, I hadn’t missed Winchester. Even had the ugly scars on the one hill just behind town been repaired when the Whittiers had been forced to stop mining, I wouldn’t have found it beautiful—because underneath it all was an ugliness I’d been forced to look at every single day of my life.

Unfortunately, I no longer knew when I’d be able to rescue my father from all this. Would he even survive the ten years I had to repay Sinclair?

My hope was, if I returned as I’d promised, that I’d be allowed to come to Winchester as often as needed—not just to take my dad to his clinic visits, but to shop for him, cook meals in advance like Edna did for Sinclair, and tidy up the house. As it was, it would take me a couple of days to get things back where they needed to be.

But sleeping in my old bed felt so strange. When I awoke on Tuesday morning, I felt a bit of panic and disorientation, even though everything around me was familiar. This was home…and yet I didn’t quite feel like I belonged here anymore.

Having me around did wonders for my dad, though, convincing me that what I’d done was the right thing. And, between playing games with him and eating meals together, I got the house back in shape and did all the shopping he hadn’t been able to do. It was strange how tight and constricting the house felt now…how confining it sometimes seemed—and yet, at other times, it felt cozy and warm.

I tried not to think about returning to Sinclair’s mansion, tried to avoid thoughts about late fall and winter and how my father would fare without me there. He was doing all right now, but we’d just entered October. Days were still warm even as leaves were changing and the days grew shorter.

Still, I had to focus on getting him to his first clinic appointment, his first treatment, one that had promised to reduce his brain lesions and prevent the disease from progressing, giving him a better quality of life. Even as I lay in my bed on Wednesday night, unable to read and less able to sleep, I was glad I’d come to make sure he went to his first appointment. Maybe this treatment would restore him to better health so that I wouldn’t have to worry as much while I was away.

Even while feeling relieved that I’d listened to my instincts, I lay in that tiny cold bed missing Sinclair. The last night he’d held me had been Saturday night, when he’d gripped me for dear life, telling me about his childhood. Sighing, I realized I’d picked the worst time to leave him as well. Reaching for my phone on the nightstand, I scrolled through my contacts until I got to the end of the alphabet. I’d listed him as SC W, not wanting anyone to know the actual person, just in case they’d gotten hold of my phone. Before I began typing, I paused, remembering how angry he’d been when I’d texted him about sending off my application to the University of Denver and how, later that day, he’d scolded me, telling me to never text again unless it was an emergency.

But we’d moved past that…come up with abbreviations and codes.

It didn’t matter. I’d keep it brief and I wasn’t going to beat around the bush. I was going to be direct and honest and, if he didn’t want anyone seeing it, he could delete it.

And it was nighttime…less likely he’d be in a staff meeting with curious eyes.

Dad’s appointment is tomorrow. Glad I came, for he has not been doing well. I’ve spent the last few days cleaning the house and restocking the kitchen. Then, after I sent it, I sent another: I miss you.

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