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“Tell me about it,” he urges kindly. “I may live in a cage because I can’t remember day from night.”
“You know about your condition?”
He nods. “I do. Sometimes I remember a little, other times a lot and . . . one day is Wednesday and the next it’s been weeks since the last time I was aware of my surroundings,” he explains to me, the sadness on his face is heartbreaking.
“I keep asking for my girls, but Cedric says you’re too busy,” Dad explains with a sad sigh. “That’s all my fault, of course.”
“Why would you say it’s your fault that Izzy and I won’t visit you?” I ask, wiping my wet cheeks.
“Well, I’m always working and leaving you girls behind. I demand a lot from you all,” he continues regretfully. “It’s just . . . I want to make sure that when I die, you’ll all have a little financial nest to fall back on if something happens.”
Cedric snorts.
I glance between them, confused. “What happened with his money then?”
“Wife number seven happened,” Cedric states bitterly and taps his temple. “By the time we realized how bad off he was, she had already cleaned him out completely.”
I shake my head in dismay.
“I don’t have seven wives,” Dad argues irritably. “I divorced Karla a few months ago. But there’s something no one knows. I have accounts everywhere—they’re just well-hidden. Plus Declan’s money too . . .”
My frown deepens. “Declan’s money? Why are you hiding it?” Give me my father’s money right now, I want to demand.
“When I die, you’ll find out,” he says secretively, reaching for my hand and squeezing it. “For now, you need to promise to visit more, Ameline. Even when I can’t remember my own name, I still want to see my little girl.”
I swallow hard. I need answers, but it’s obvious I won’t get them from him in this state. Glancing around the small, barren room, I wonder if he’d be better off in a care facility with professional help.
Gabe probably knows a good neurologist who can at least assess him. Richard was a decent father until my mother came back into the picture. Something must have triggered him, the way he rejected me. I’m not absolving him of his behavior, but there’s more to this than I know about.
I glance at Cedric, recalling his crude remarks about Helen and her “magic pussy” that made Dad do stupid things.
Then I remember Mom’s dying words—her hope that Dad would forgive her before she passed away and her regret that he only hurt me more in the end.
“Listen, Dad,” I say gently, “I have a lot going on right now. But I have a doctor friend who might be able to recommend someone to help you. We’ll find you a nice place so you don’t have to live locked in this room anymore. Okay?”
I kiss his forehead.
“You remind me so much of your godfather,” he states, and his eyes get teary. “He was a good man.”
I’m not sure who he’s talking about, but I don’t see the point of staying longer. Will I ever get any answers from him? I doubt it, but maybe I can do something for him so he can live better.
“Come back, okay?” he requests.
On our way out, Cedric makes sure to lock him away again.
“Why do you do that?” I ask.
“So he doesn’t wander out of the house. If the kids are visiting, then he won’t be interacting with him,” he says, but his voice is sad.
“They don’t live here?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Jamie left me—again. She can’t live like this. I lost my job because Dad needs care around the clock.”
“I’ll talk to Gabe,” I say. “Are you sure there’s no hidden money? I might be able to ask a friend to search for it.”
“You want to assume the responsibility, be my guest. It’ll destroy your entire life,” he states. “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
“Go to a therapist, Cee. Fix your life,” I urge and glance at him. “We’ll discuss our relationship later. I have too many things to figure out.”
