“I didn’t want to bother you.”
“You can’t bother me, I’m your friend, remember? I want to hear all this shit. I can’t promise I have good advice, but I can try.”
“I’ll take anything.”
“Well, for starters, you need to stop thinking so much. I know that’s your thing, but have you considered Occam’s razor? The simplest solution is usually the best.”
“Which is?”
“You move to California with her.” He cocked his head at my expression. “You never considered it?”
“Not seriously,” I said. “I’ve been locked on going to MIT, finishing my father’s work, and keeping him close to the house that he loved. I need to put him in a home somewhere he recognizes. To give him something to hold on to.”
“Because you’re a good son, Xander,” Dean said. “But you’re also a good guy for Emery. Maybe you don’t have to sacrifice one for the other. Just ask your dad what he thinks. Tell him everything.” He gave me a wry smile at my dubious expression. “You’re in your head a lot, my friend. Put what’s in your heart out into the world and see what happens. Maybe Dr. Ford would love nothing better than to get the hell out of dodge and live his golden years sipping piña coladas by a pool in Pasadena. Ha. Say that five times fast…”
I sniffed a laugh. “I don’t think he wants that.”
“You never know unless you ask.”
“I suppose.” I smiled gratefully. “I feel stupid.”
Dean chuckled. “There’s a first time for everything.”
“Not for the first time. I’m pretty terrible at thinking outside of my usual systems.”
“You’re getting better. The number of people who love you has increased exponentially with the addition of Miss Wallace.” He chucked my shoulder. “I’d say you’re doing all right.”
I pulled my aching body off the erg and gave Dean a hug. “Thank you.”
“I aim to please,” he said, clapping my back. “You’re coming to Orion’s party on Friday night, right? After we destroy all foes at the regatta?”
“I thought you said Atlas Hall wasn’t your scene.”
“This crew has never been better. I’ll make an exception if we go 2–0. Just don’t bust a gut and puke all over me after the race. As cox, I’m right in the splash zone.”
I laughed. “No promises.”
We parted ways, and I showered, changed, then started the long drive to Boston. The euphoria I’d had with Emery the night before began to reappear as I coasted down the highway. Maybe I’d been too rigid in my thinking. Maybe Dad would love a change of scenery, away from painful memories of Mom and her abandonment.
But at the neurology ward, the specialist gave me a grim prognosis: Dad’s dementia was progressing rapidly.
“A few weeks at best,” Dr. Woodley said, “before he’ll need more care than you can give him.”
Before he forgets who I am.
He gave me the information for a memory care home in the city, close to MIT, and a new prescription. Dad had more pills now to crowd his medicine cabinet, but none were strong enough to keep his brilliant mind intact. In the car, he was quiet, his gaze on the passing scenery.
I cleared my throat. “Did they tell you what comes next?”
“Yes, son.” He smiled thinly, his eyes clear. For now. “It won’t be too much longer now.”
“Don’t say that,” I said, my heart aching. “You never know—”
“I know. Time is running out. And I’m so close to my theory. So close. I just need a little more time.” He whipped his head to me in a sudden panic. “Don’t put me away yet, Xander. Please. Not yet. I just need a few more weeks, and I’ll have it.”
“It’s okay, Dad. I won’t, I promise. But…what do you think about leaving New England?”
“When? What for?”
