Page 55 of Stray

Glancing towards the frail man, I’m taken aback as a memory from my childhood flashes in my brain. It’s of Pops. Back then, he was a giant in every sense of the word. At least compared to my then childhood stature. He was hauling two newly birthed calves over his massive shoulders up a hill to take to the barn because they had run off. He did it with such ease in my memory while humming some old song while I struggled to keep up with him.

He gave me his hat that day because it was my first day working on the ranch after my stay at the hospital. It’s the hat I still wear.

“Yeah, Pops?” I manage over the tightness forming in my throat and chest. I’m trying to accept seeing him like this, but it’s hard. It’s so fucking hard when night rounds have been our thing since I was a kid, and now, he’s lying here, a near skeleton with translucent skin and hallowed eyes.

“Take me outside for rounds?” he asks me. “Let me see her.” I know who “her” is. I also know that he shouldn’t. But why shouldn’t he? If he’s never going to get better, why should I deny him? I look from him to Ozzy and Mama. Ozzy gives me the slightest nod, and I sigh before grabbing his wheelchair. Ozzy stands and walks over, unhooking his IVs and wires before helping me get him in the chair. She kneels down, situating his feet on the rests before smiling up at him. Her smile seems off, almost sad, and she reaches up and hugs my father.

“You’re a pain in my ass, girlie.” Pops chuckles as Ozzy pulls back.

“Like you’d have it any other way, old man,” Ozzy stands and squeezes Pops’ hand before Mama runs behind us, wrapping a blanket over Pops and kissing his cheek before I wheel him outside. It took a lot of careful maneuvering, but I got Pops to the barn where the chicks are. I wheel him next to the brooder as I walk around, making sure everything is secure.

“She wouldn’t shut up about these fuckers,” Pops laughs, and I can’t help the smile.

“You should’ve seen her sobbing over them when she found them this morning.”

“Yeah, I think we take new life for granted sometimes. We see the babies so much, it’s just commonplace, sometimes even a nuisance. We forget what a miracle life is.” I walk over to his chair and start wheeling him out of the barn.

“So I’m thinking Wyatt will love to do the gingerbread house competition,” I say as we make our way along the darkening path. “You and he could talk about it and try to take Carter down.” The family has a ‘who can build a better house’ competition every year. Fucking Carter has been undefeated for eight years. Last year’s was a fucking castle, complete with a moat and drawbridge. I said that should disqualify him since it wasn’t a house, but apparently I was wrong.

Pops doesn’t say anything, and it kills me. It kills me because he really thinks he won’t make it even a few more weeks. This is my father. There is no stronger man than him. He will make it, fuck everyone who has been acting for months like he only has days left. I’ll admit, in the beginning, I did, too, but he’s still here, and I’m not giving up on him.

We reach the horse stalls, and as soon as Betty spots Pops, she begins to neigh and shake her head wildly.

“Oh! My beautiful girl!” He wheezes a joyful cry as I park him and release Betty from her stall. She immediately goes to Pops, neighing, purring, and snorting. I watch the tears begin to roll down his cheeks as his weak hands run up her nose and over her jaw. “Betty, I didn’t think I’d see you again, sweetheart,” he chokes out. I look away while tensing my jaw. Seeing how happy he is with his horse, and thinking about how I tried to stop this from happening, how I tried to stop him from leaving that room, and that guilt…

“Pops,” I manage softly after another minute of him loving on Betty. “I’m so sorry.”

He releases Betty, and he looks up to me. These few minutes must’ve taken everything he had left; he looks exhausted. “Sorry for what, son?”

“For,” my voice cracks, and I clear my throat before trying again. “For leaving you up there, for leaving you alone.” His smile is so weak and faint, it’s almost not even there.

“Jackson, you know I love you all equally, but you and I…” He takes in a shaky breath. “We’ve always been different, closer. Son, I didn’t want you to see me this way any more than you wanted to. I would’ve been fine dying in the room, and your memory of me being who I was before I got sick. But, that Ozzy…” I chuckle at her name.

“Yeah, she’s pretty stubborn and opinionated… and possibly right.”

“Yeah, her head’s big enough, though. Best not add to it.” He smirks, and I shake my head. “I’m proud of you,” he says as we look out at the land. “You’ve done amazing work keeping this place going.”

“Don’t,” I warn through my clenched jaw, feeling the prickling in my eyes.

“Ah, it’ll be alright. You’re going to be okay, Jackson. No need to get too choked up.” A traitorous tear rolls down my face as I put my hand over his cold one.

“I don’t want you to go, Dad,” I admit, and he pats my hand.

“I know, but I lived a great life. I got to do what I loved, found my soulmate, and had the greatest kids I could’ve asked for. I couldn’t have asked for a better life. It’s okay.”

“I’m not okay, though,” I choke, tears falling freely. “W-what if I need you? What if I don’t know what to do? Dad, you…”

“Jackson,” He exhales softly. “Son, you got this. You are stronger and smarter than I ever dreamed of being. You are better with Theo and your brothers, you are a great man and a hell of a rancher. I promise you, you won’t need me. There are many things I’m selfishly upset I’m going to miss, but I can assure you I will rest peacefully knowing you don’t need me anymore. I believe in you, boy. Now believe in yourself.” My shoulders roll inward as I lower my head, trying to breathe and gather myself back up. Being out here with him, it’s all just finally hitting me. My father is leaving me.

“I should take you back inside,” I say once I’ve composed myself. I watch his gaze wander over the scenery.

“Nah,” he says softly. “Let me sit out here and watch this sunset.” I frown as I look towards him. He has a peaceful smile on his face, and I can almost see the old him again. Full of pride and spirit.

“It’s getting cold,” I try, and he looks at me with questioning eyes.

“You worried I’m gonna get sick?” I chuckle, not because I want to, but because I know he wants me to. I stand from my stool and go over to the stall, grabbing a couple of snacks for Betty and handing them to Pops before retaking my seat. We sit silently for a long while as the sun sets over our ranch, casting everything in warm tones before fading into the indigo of the dusk sky.

My mind drifts to Ozzy and how I will have to thank her and tell her she was right about moving him out of that room. This is so hard. Coming to grips with the fact that I may not have weeks left with Pops is gut-wrenching. But this right now, it’s something he and I needed more than I realized. I miss my father and sitting here, watching the sunset over everything we’ve built. It means more to me than just about anything, and I know it also does to him. I need to give him a few more special days, and I will, regardless of how few he has left. I plan on making them the best I can. Maybe tomorrow I can take him out again, get him to the lake, and let him see Betty again.

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