Maybe I should just quit my job.
The looming payment for my dad’s care and the recent brain scans he had done reminds me that I don’t have that option right now. At the very least, I need to amp up the job-searching efforts. I’ve been in tough places before. I can stick it out for a few more weeks even if he’s as cold to me at the office as he was as soon as we left that magical string of islands in the South Pacific.
“Driver?”
“Name’s Jackson.”
“Oh, sorry. Jackson, could you maybe take me on a quick detour before we go to my apartment? It’s on this side of town.”
“Sure. What’s the address?”
I rattle it off, and he enters it into his GPS. We pull up to the care facility fifteen minutes later, and I open the door before he has a chance to. His brown eyes are looking at me through the rearview mirror.
“I’ll be quick, okay?”
“No rush.”
I clamber out, walking up to the entrance. The smell of antiseptic from their deep cleaning on Sunday mornings greets me.
Sandra smiles at me, and the sight of a familiar friendly face is exactly what I needed today, squeezing my heart.
“Hey, sugar. You look tired. You feeling okay?”
“Oh, yes, long weekend . . . working. I’m fine.”
She nods at me, smile faltering. “I think he’s having a rough one, baby.”
My steps halt, the momentary comfort vanishing, replaced by dread.
“He . . . did something happen?”
She bobs her head, kind eyes filled with concern.
“He’s been...asking for your mama. The nurses are calling the doc for a stronger sedative. I was actually just about to call you.”
A tremor starts to run over my body. I needed to see my dad today. Now, I’m afraid the man who lives here, the one who raised me, is going to feel like a stranger.
I drum up a lick of courage, forcing my weak limbs to keep moving forward. “I can’t stay long. Thank you for warning me.”
A faint smile splays her lips as I walk by. The hall feels darker than normal, my vision slightly blurry. I’m on the verge of turning and running back, not sure if I can handle this right now. My feet keep taking me deeper in, and the smell of bleached linoleum grows stronger.
As I approach the door, I take a deep breath, steadying myself for what awaits me on the other side.
He’s sitting on the bed, face turned to the window. A young male nurse is standing near the door, arms crossed. He nods at me as I enter.
“Dad?” I ask, praying he looks over with a smile.
At first, he doesn’t react. As I get closer, he turns to face me. My heart sinks as he observes me coolly, the usual smile nowhere in sight.
For the first time in my life, my father doesn’t recognize me.
“I want my wife. If you aren’t here to tell me where she is, I don’t want to see you.”
I swallow, inching a tad closer. “Dad, it’s Kate . . . your daughter.”
His brows scrunch up. “You people aren’t going to convince me that I don’t remember my life. I’m married, and I have a little girl. You’re a grown adult.”
I shake my head, ice in my veins. “I’m Kate. I’m your little girl...I’m just a few years older than you remember.”
