“Bold move—driving up here in that little hatchback.”
“Yeah, I didn’t quite make it across the finish line.”
“Close enough,” he offers kindly. “It shouldn’t take much to pull you out.”
It’s time for me to leave if I want to get back to the city at a reasonable hour, and the melancholy of saying goodbye begins to set in. Not wanting to get emotional in front of Carl, I keep my farewells to Nina and my father brief. I plan to come back in a few weeks to help tie up loose ends and move my father into his chosen home. There will be plenty of time for crying and reminiscing then, but for now, I have a long drive and a busy week ahead.
“No bags?” asks Carl.
I have survived the weekend on the contents of my linen tote bag, supplemented by my old sweatshirt and a moth-eaten wool sweater that belongs to no one but the house.
“I travel light,” I say, and Carl gives an approving nod as we head outside to his truck. I’m about to open the passenger door when I realize the seat is occupied by a large wolfish dog, who blinks at me with equanimity.
“Cynthia,” Carl says, snapping his fingers and pointing to the back seat of the truck’s cab. The dog complies.
“Thank you, Cynthia,” I say, climbing into my seat and offering her my hand. She sniffs it, seems unoffended, and then pushes her forehead into my palm, inviting me to scratch her.
“Cynthia is a great name,” I say.
“I named her after my mom. Well, my mom’s middle name. She died a few years back, and I got this dog right after. I was in kind of a weird place. So yeah, now I have a dog named Cynthia.” Carl throws the truck into reverse, then pulls forward up the driveway. His truck is worn-in but tidy. A string of Buddhist mala beads snakes around the neck of the rearview mirror.
“Well, that’s a nice tribute,” I say. “How does Cynthia feel about cats?”
Creases form at the corners of Carl’s eyes as he smiles. “She’s scared of them. Dominic will rule the roost in no time.”
“It’s really nice of you to take him in,” I say.
“It’s no bother. Happy to have the little guy,” says Carl. We bump over the threshold of the driveway and onto the road, whose surface has hardened since I arrived. “So you came all the way up here just for the weekend?”
“Yeah. We visited two homes for my Dad. Orchard Hills and…”
“Dunbridge.”
“That’s right.”
“Which one did he like?”
“Neither,” I say. “He doesn’t want to move. And he was appalled by how old the residents were.”
Carl gives an amused snort. “I’m sure Arthur will come around. But I’ll miss having him on the pond. He’s an insightful guy. We’ve had some interesting chats over the years.” We climb the hill and then start to descend again. “Did you ever think of moving up here? Looking after your dad when Nina leaves?”
It dawns on me that Carl doesn’t know the reason I don’t come here. He doesn’t know that I’m a pariah in this town. He doesn’t know that I’m irresponsible and unforgivable. He doesn’t knowanythingabout me. I simply say, “Nina thinks he’ll be better off in a residence with medical staff and all that.”
I’m struck that, based on his first impression, Carl assumes I’m capable of taking care of my dad. But suddenly it hits me: maybe I am. I feel a pit in my stomach as I realize that I’m only thinking about it now that it’s too late. Maybe my father reallyisn’tready to move. Maybe we should be weighing his opinion more heavily. Maybe this is all happening too fast, too soon. But we’ve already made our plans.
“Right. And you’re busy. I hear you’ve got a glamorous life in the Big Apple,” says Carl as he slows the truck.
“I’m not sure I would call it glamorous. But yes, it’s a life.”
We reach the bottom of the hill where my car waits, and Carl maneuvers to the side of the road.
“There she is,” I say. “The Raisin.”
Carl nods. “If you could throw the Raisin into neutral, this should be quick.” I hop out and do as he asks while he pulls a tow strap from the back of his truck and hooks it up to something under the bumper of my car. I should learn how to do these things, I tell myself, but driving has never been my forte.
I stand to the side of the road and Carl gets back behind the wheel of his truck. As he pulls forward, my tires slide easily out of the muddy grooves that had swallowed them two days ago.
“You made that look easy. Thank you so much.”
