Page 43 of A Reckless Memory

“How’d Eliot find out?”

“That guy has a bigger network of gossips than a big-city high school.”

“Thanks for the warning.” I trudged into the house, straightening the material of my long-sleeved dress with the loose asymmetrical skirt. I had on my knee-high boots. My goal this morning in picking out my outfit was to find something opposite to what I would’ve worn when I lived at home.

Inside, I padded on the balls of my feet, just like the last time I took this walk.

In the living room, it was like Daddy had set out to be the exact opposite of how I’d last seen him. Instead of a big barrel of a man, he’d lost weight, shrinking to half his size. The steady hiss and click of an oxygen pump resonated through the quiet house.

Laughter from outside filtered in but couldn’t block out Daddy’s wheeze. His oxygen mask was sitting on his knee. He slumped in his chair. No glass of whiskey neat was sitting on the end table next to him. All the black was gone from his hair. A bushy white mass sat on his head. He never could be bothered with a comb, and now it seemed he couldn’t spare a moment for clippers.

His mustache was gone. I blinked away a sudden well of tears. Shock resonated from head to toe.

When I regained control, I stepped all the way into the living room. “Hi, Daddy.”

He swung his head around, a slow-motion move that was not him. “Birdie,” he gasped. “You’re finally home.”

More tears threatened to crowd into my eyes. “It’s Aggie.”

He squinted. “Yes, yes. Aggie. I knew you’d return. Where’s Ansen?”

My heart sank. Was this trip a bad idea? Would I have been better with the last impression of Daddy in my head when he did pass? Would it have been easier for me to pretend he was more invested in me than Ansen? “He’s working. We’re not together.”

“He’s with you?”

“Working for me, Daddy.”

His smile was dreamy. “He’s a good kid. That Gustafson fellow is full of shit.” A cough sputtered out of him, growing stronger and shaking his whole body.

I took a step, but he lifted his mask and inhaled, his frail chest lifting and lowering a few times before his breathing settled into a wheezing gasp. My chest was tightening up, watching him struggle. This wasn’t the big, burly man I’d grown up wishing saw me and not a pale copy of a woman who’d left him.

After he took the mask away, I asked, “Shouldn’t you be wearing that?” Eliot said Daddy refused to wear a nasal cannula. The mask was one of his few concessions.

“Damn thing,” was his only answer. He inhaled another rattling breath. “You and Ansen—”

“How are sales, Daddy?” He thought I was Mama when I walked in. Repeating that Ansen and I weren’t a thing wouldn’t go anywhere. I shouldn’t have come. I was only hurting myself and confusing him.

He shook his head. “You’re stronger than your mother.” He gulped more air. “She was scared of everything.”

“Mama? The same woman who swam with the dolphins and skydived when she was fifty?” Mama should’ve been afraid of more so she wouldn’t have died in a car wreck after reported speeds of ninety miles an hour in her new sports car.

“Scared of this.” He sighed a long raspy exhale and sagged in his chair, his gaze going out the window. “Scared of being a mom. Owning all this land.” A cough. “Being responsible for all the cattle.”

“Didn’t you take it all over?”

He shrugged his narrow shoulders. “No one else around to do it.”

No. He couldn’t be right. His mind was foggy—from meds, from sickness. But his words tattooed themselves under my skin all the same. Mama was afraid to settle.

She’d told me outright not to be complacent in life, to live it to the fullest. For her, the only way to live free was to get away. From the shackles of the land that were the animals relying on her, the husband who loved her, and the kids who adored her.

“She was a runner.” He took another gulp from his mask.

“Mama?” Which of us was confused? His conversation jumped while also hitting a soft target. “She did a few 5K races.”

He feebly shook his head. “No. She ran from her responsibilities.” His focus intensely cleared. “You were always like her.”

I almost recoiled. I had a distinct reason for leaving the ranch, and while I took Mama’s advice, I didn’t emulate her life. “I have more responsibilities than ever, Daddy.”

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