Thursday, March 11, 2010

On the Brink of Madness
cond't (ch. 2)

I stayed there with dad at the house and tried to comfort him in a way. I talked to him about the past and what I did when I was younger. I wanted to see if his memory was intact, and it was. We laughed about a lot of things. I reminded him of when we used to view television with each other when I was a pre-teen. Our favorite time together was watching and rooting for the Cardinals Baseball Team. We spent many hours watching and talking about the plays. I could tell you all about the players, who they were, and what positions they played. My all time favorites, as was Dad’s were Ozzie Smith and Willie McGee. Whenever they came to bat and had a good hit or even a good run we would jump up yelling and screaming. Out of all of the kids, and there were eight of us, you could always find me there with him. So, I wanted to see if he remembered our time together.

“Dad, do you remember us watching the Cardinals play?”

“Yeah. We always did that. You loved that team as much as I did.”

“So you remember us watching all those games?”

“Why would I forget?”

“Well, what else did we watch?”

“Gunsmoke and Bonanza.”

“I did not think you would remember that.”

“Those were my favorite shows.”

“Well, when you were working on the cars, who helped you the most.”

“First it was you, then your brother, Chad then Earl.”

“I told Mom that. But she kept saying it was Melvin. I told her that I was the one who held the light for you and pumped the brakes.”

“You helped the most, but your brother Chad and your nephew Earl were next. Melvin, being the oldest, was playing basketball and chasing girls.”

We both laughed. I was so happy he remembered. I couldn’t wait to tell Mother, since she was so sure everybody was out in that garage helping him. She claimed that I was rarely out there. I know how long I stayed in that garage pumping the breaks. It used to piss me off because I could have been in the house on the phone talking to my friends, or a boy, or something. But I was out in the cold garage being a mechanic’s daughter. I am so glad that I did because I really got to know my dad. Not only that, but I knew how to detect if something was wrong with my car. So if I had a problem, I could normally tell either it was the transmission slipping, the alternator going out, or if a belt had broken. I also knew how to use the dipstick to check my oil, and so much more. Mom was jealous and I knew it. She always wanted all the attention. So she would always try to minimize my relationship with Dad or what we did together. I am sure that deep down inside she was happy that he had accepted me with open arms, but still she was jealous. Her actions always showed that to be true.

I told Dad that I would be back in a couple of days. I told him that I was going to make an appointment for the doctor and would come to take him.

“What is the doctor going to do?”

“Hopefully he can find out how to get rid of these people.” I said as I stood up to leave.

We walked to the door and he asked if I could make it to the car alone. I told him yes. As I walked out the door and he closed it behind me, I knew that something was indeed wrong. Dad had always walked me to my car. But now he shut that door so fast and left me to my own devices to get to the car. For some reason, that hurt my heart. In a way, it solidified that something was indeed wrong. My soul ached. As I backed out of the driveway, almost running over the neighbors’ grass, I heard his voice in my head. You can back straight out if you use your left side rearview mirror. Just look into the mirror and slowly back out.

I suddenly straighten up the wheels and did a perfect exit. I was thinking, what in the world are we gonna do without Dad?

Suddenly I was driving and crying so hard that I had to pull over to the side of the road. In my anguish I grabbed my cell and called mother. When she picked up the phone I cried harder.

1 comment:

Believer said...

Let the memories hug your heart, while making room for today's shared laughter together.

It must be difficult, but now more than ever you must "live in the moment."