Page 7 of To Belong Together
“I am about ready to go home,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”
Dad couldn’t go home when he was already there, but she didn’t mention that either.
She tried to visit with him a couple of times each week. She wanted all the memories she could get with Dad, and Mom needed breaks from caretaker duties. In theory. But Mom canceled the visits fairly often, saying they were turning in early or not up for company.
Not tonight, though. Mom had gone to her friend Susanna’s house about two hours earlier.
Erin had spent the time with Dad in the garage. He couldn’t work on cars anymore, so they’d swept the floor and organized some tools. Now, as they waited for Mom’s return, they’d tackled the windows. Dementia had tinged the whole event.
He wasn’t the same.
She was losing him.
Instead of sighing and focusing on the bad—he’d read her emotions and become upset himself—Erin spritzed the inside of the windshield and angled to wipe it clean. “I had a long day too. I spent all this time cleaning engine parts, and come to find out, Aunt Connie had ordered new ones without noting that on the paperwork. There was nothing wrong with the old parts, but Rodney’s in Lakeshore told the customer everything needed to be replaced.”
Dad harrumphed.
Did he remember Rodney’s reputation, or was he simply reading her tone?
She circled the car to clean the front passenger window. “So of course, he insisted on the new parts, and Connie gave in and ordered everything. What a waste.”
“What do you do again?”
Erin’s shoulders dropped, and her hand dipped from the window. “I’m a mechanic, Dad.” Despite her preferences, she used the term he’d most likely find familiar. Though the weight of disappointment continued to press on her, she lifted a smile. “Like you.”
“You? You work on cars? Well, that’s a new one.”
Not him too. She strained to stay upbeat. “You taught me to work on cars right in this garage. And at the auto shop. Do you remember working at the auto shop with Nick and Roy and Sam?”
“Sammy and Roy?”
“Nick and Connie’s sons. Do you remember them?”
“Of course. Of course.”
Maybe he did. Or not.
The garage door lifted for Mom’s car. So much the better. Erin didn’t have the heart to ask more questions.
Supplies in hand, she rounded the back of the vehicle and joined him. “You were a mechanic. Best in town. People still ask for you because you did such good work.”
He laughed once, pleased. In a movement he’d been doing as long as she remembered, he swiped his hand over his old-fashioned, side-combed haircut. “Well, that’s fine. That’s good.”
“You did a fine job on this window too.” She extended her hand for his rag and cleaning solution. “I’d say it’s quitting time. You can go home now. It’s right through that door.”
She waited, ready to drop the spray bottles and rags if he had trouble rising. He braced himself against the car and stood without her assistance.
Mom pulled in cautiously, waved hello to Erin, then met Dad at the door to the interior of the house. She pecked his cheek before she accompanied him inside.
Erin backed her car out, deposited the window cleaner on the appropriate shelf, and tossed the rags in the laundry hamper inside. She swung by the dining table, where Mom had dumped out a puzzle for Dad.
Compared to those he used to assemble, the pieces of this one looked simple and large.
Erin bent and kissed his cheek. “Love you, Dad.”
He patted the hand she’d laid on his shoulder. “Love you too.”
But for how much longer? Did he even know her name?
