Page 13 of The True-Blue Romance

A perfect memory that in another life means something other than what it actually does.

“Lee,” Beau says gently, shaking me out of my reverie.

When I open my eyes, it’s to find the remaining occupants of the waiting room staring at me as the evaluator looks on in question. I stand slowly and wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans, wishing I was anywhere but here.

The evaluator shakes my hand with a tired smile. “I’m Liliana. Take a walk with me?”

I nod with a grimace and follow her toward my father’s room. Through the window in the door, he appears asleep, his salt-and-pepper hair more salt than it used to be just a year or so ago.

“So?” I ask, voice more even than I thought possible.

“We’ve got room for him and he’s a good fit. The stage he’s at… the progression could happen pretty fast or it could stagnate for a while. It’s hard to predict.”

“And the cost?”

Liliana’s smile takes on a hard edge. “That’s above my pay grade, but I will say Medicaid and Social Security will cover part of it, and you’ll be left with the rest. But it appears all his paperwork is in order to give you the permission to make all those legal decisions. The hospital had the power of attorney, do-not-resuscitate, and living will on file, all leaving decisions to you.”

I can’t hold back the snort. I rub a hand over my face, suddenly beyond exhausted. “He was a shitty father, so of course he’d happily saddle me with the worst of it all at the end.”

“It’s often like that,” Liliana whispers. She reaches out to rest a hand on my forearm, giving me a gentle squeeze. “Our facility has support groups for children of parents with dementia and Alzheimer’s.”

“I don’t need support,” I say gruffly, slowly pulling my arm from her grasp. “I need him somewhere where he can’t hurt himself or anyone else anymore.”

“I’ve got some papers for you to sign, then, and we’ll transport him there today. You can bring his personal effects as soon as tomorrow.”

“What personal effects?” I murmur more to myself than her.

She kindly and patiently walks me through signing all of the paperwork before disappearing back into the room with my father. Next, a nurse greets me with the discharge papers, and I sign them, allowing the hospital to discharge my father into the facility’s care. Beau finds me right when I finish. He slings a warm arm across my shoulders and guides me out of the hospital, all while my heart feels like it’s going to choke me rather than jump out of my chest.

I blink a few times when we step outside, the crisp March sunshine falling over my face like a cascade of much-needed warmth.

Cindy steps forward and cups my face with her palms, eyes gentle and kind. “You’re gonna feel a lot of things,” she whispers, pulling me down close enough to kiss my forehead. “It’s okay to feel free. You aren’t a bad son.”

“I don’t know what to feel.”

Cindy’s smile is watery, and I don’t really enjoy it. “I know. And just remember, in your darkest moments, these homes usually take weeks to get into. They have long waiting lists. Your father isn’t getting in there because he’s well loved, he’s getting in there because you are, and because more people than you realize just want you to be happy.”

She presses one last kiss to my forehead, then walks away like she didn’t just free me from thirty-six years of shackles. Trevor steps in front of me, all messy blond hair and too-bright blue eyes. I didn’t understand him and Beau at first, but I do now when I need them in a clutch. Trevor looks like he’d murder someone for those he loves, and Beau needs someone like that more than anyone else.

“You let me know when you need another smoke, yeah?” Trevor asks before disappearing toward Beau’s truck in the hospital parking lot. Instead of climbing into the passenger seat, he climbs into the driver’s seat and takes off. I turn toward Beau, but he just shakes his head and holds his hand out for my keys.

I hand Beau the keys with a grimace. “So?”

“Let’s go figure out his house now so you don’t have to do it alone.” Beau guides me toward my truck with an arm slung around my shoulder. “Would be a lot faster if we had Joey’s help too.”

My neck heats and my throat tightens at the very idea. “I don’t want him in my father’s house ever.”

Beau hums and tosses my keys into the air before letting them land softly back into his palm. We climb into my truck with Beau at the wheel. The comfortable silence I’ve known for the majority of my life wraps around us even as Beau turns on the local country channel that still plays all the best songs from the nineties that we grew up on. Clint Black croons from the speakers as Beau navigates us toward my dad’s trailer park. I lower my window and Beau follows suit, the air whipping around us, cool and crisp. The sun shines light yellow between the moss-laden oak trees because it’s spring, and I swear the sun changes colors with each season.

I hang my arm out the window for a moment, catching it in the wind and moving with the cool evening air. Beau turns the truck into the over-fifty trailer park my father has called home since he lost the farm. The grass is slightly overgrown out front, the garbage overflowing and the recycling full of empty beer bottles.

I let out an enormous sigh, and climb out of the truck to face the day with a heavy heart.

I disassociate a little as Beau and I grab the items my father might want at his newest home. We’ll have to come back to clean the place out before I can sell it, but the hardest part is done pretty quickly with Beau’s help. He even ignores my angry tears as I pick out clothes for the man who hasn’t loved me in a very long time, if ever at all. At a certain point, I need to concede that I’m cursed and just go about life as best I can. Cursed from the get-go really.

“Wanna come over for dinner?” Beau asks while expertly backing out of the driveway.

I lean my head against the doorjamb, breathing in the cool spring air. I don’t answer right away, which would annoy anyone else, but I know it’s fine with Beau. Sometimes I have to gather all my thoughts before speaking.