Complicated.
Not “trickier.”
Secretive.
A much more complicated, secretive guy than I ever—
If so, if you did know, and did it anyway? Which, if I’m being frank, I feel was probably, yes, the case? It breaks my heart, and I have to say, because I want, if we are really parting, for us to do so from a place of total honesty:
It disappoints me, Daddy.
Disappoints me greatly.
I just feel really let down by you.
I always saw you as someone who tried to do what was right, no matter what, so this is a truly hard pill for me to—
Pausing for a look down at my charge, she noted that his hair, badly in need of cutting, was, just a little bit, in the front there, shaking, or quaking, or whatever.
Just slightly moving with the motion of his frail old body.
Now the shaking stopped and he went completely still and it occurred to her that (good Christ) she’d killed him.
With this selfish last-minute bitchfest.
Then his lips slightly moved, as if he were trying to moisten them.
Oh, thank God.
Lord, forget it, they could talk about it later.
Or not.
She took the washcloth from the bedside table, dipped it into his water glass, wet his lips.
There you go.
There you go, sweetie.
She leaned over, kissed his head.
My charge, for the first time since I’d known him, managed to speak aloud.
Devil, he mumbled.
Say what now? she said. The devil’s not in here, Daddy. That’s just your meds.
Lady, he said.
Are you saying there’s a lady devil in here? she said.
From deep in his throat he managed a sound of affirmation.
Okay, she said. All right. What we need here is some rest, I think. Or wait, you know what? Let’s do this.
She brought her hands together.
Heavenly Father, she said. Help my daddy out here. Devil lady? Be gone. Any and all devils, be gone. Give my daddy some peace, y’all.
