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"Dad, you look better today," I lie, hoping he'll respond in some way. The truth is he looks like shit. Baggy clothes and messy hair. He hasn't shaved in forever, and he’s never been one for facial hair. "How are you feeling?"
"Rebecca. Where is she? Is she coming to see me today?"
His eyes never change. They remain unfocused and staring down at the grains in the wood of the table in front of him. My strength crumbles when he mentions her. "No, Dad. Rebecca is gone. Don't you remember?"
"Shopping. That's probably where she is. Shopping," he whispers. "She loves to be beautiful. My Becca. She'll be here, and I'll be ready for her. She loves me. One day you'll find someone like my Becca, Bryant. You'll see." My hands cover my face atop the table, the tears stinging to break free. When he's like this he never asks about me, or what's new. It's like the businesses don't exist. He doesn't question why he's here. And it never registers that she has yet to come the entire time he's been a hostage here. He just continues to ask about her, making excuses for why she's not present, as if his brain has completely shut down the memories of what happened with her.
And it makes me fucking angry.
"Dad, Rebecca is not coming," I snap, lowering my hands.
He looks at me, still void of any emotion. "It's okay, Son. If she doesn't make it today she will tomorrow. She's going through a lot. She's alone. I need you to do something for me. Can you do me a favor until I figure out a way out of this?"
My patience is wearing thin. I just want my dad back. "What is it, Dad?"
"Will you take care of Rebecca for me? I don't want her alone while I'm here. She needs someone. Women need attention. I get that. So whatever she needs, give it to her. Anything. Do you understand? Even intimacy."
I forcefully stand, about to lose it. My give is gone. My tolerance is topped out. "She's not coming back, Dad! She's dead. She will never be back! And you know what? The bitch deserved it!" The spit flies from my mouth with every sentence that I scream. "It's time to move on!"
He stands too. "Don't you dare say things like that about my Becca! Don't try and trick me. You're crossing a line. I won't tolerate it. She's never done anything to you."
If there were chairs in this room I would throw every one in my path, but there's not. Just long tables with connected stools like in a school cafeteria. Less hazard when you're dealing with mental cases I guess. The nurse is already standing by his side, reaching for his arm. "I think it's time for your medications now. You're tired. You need a break."
"Dammit, Dad, I need you to remember!" My hands grip my hair as I watch him leave with her. This place ages me mentally every time I come, but I can't just leave him here to rot. He's the only parent I have left.
A doctor appears beside me. "I know it can be hard to see someone you care about going through this, but sometimes you just have to give these things time. Screaming at him isn't going to bring the memories back to make him normal. What you know as normal and what new normal is for him may never cross paths. The brain is a complex organ, but a miraculous one. Sometimes it shuts down where needed to protect us from harsh truths."
"And this is supposed to be better than living with what happened? He's like a robot. He's not even human anymore, let alone my dad. How will he ever get out of here if he doesn't get better?"
"Bryant, even if he does remember everything, I don't know that he will get out of here. To say that he will is wishful thinking. We have a justice system. He still did something that may never give him his freedom back. Best case scenario he may one day get released with some form of probation, but worst case scenario I release him medically and he transfers to state penitentiary. This place is the least of your concern."
"At least then he would be a man. I'd rather stand by him for what he did than see him like this. You read his case file. Most would understand, even if he did have to do time."
"Bryant, why don't you take a break from this place. You're here at least once a day. I promise I'll call you if something changes."
I wipe my face, the stress overwhelming my mind. My phone vibrates in my pocket. Anyone that knows me, knows not to bother me at certain times of the day unless it's an emergency. I pull it out enough to glance at the screen.
Joel:SOS.
Fuck. I don't need this shit right now. I glance at the door I know he won't come back out of today, and then back at the doctor. "You'll call me if anything changes at all? Day or night?"
"You have my word."
I release a frustrated breath. "Fine. I have somewhere I need to be for a few days, a week tops. As soon as I land I'll be back."
"He'll be fine, Bryant. You're too young to have to deal with all of this. Go have some fun for yourself. Take a vacation. Hell, Son, maybe you'll meet someone. It's okay to have a life for yourself. I know he's your dad, but it's not normal for you to bear his cross."
I thought I had met someone . . . But I'm back to square one. On to another I guess. I check the time. "I suppose you're right. I've had a lot of shit happen here lately, and it seems to all be stacking on top of each other. I have to go. Looks like I'm going to New York, but I can't say it'll be much of a vacation."
"We'll be here when you get back."
I walk away, the guilt already consuming me that I'm leaving. He has no one else. My life was just fine when Meredith was around. That's the good thing about having a mutual fuck buddy. They only show up when they're needed. You meet each other's physical needs with no questions asked. There is no interference in personal shit that I want to keep to myself. I don't have to answer to anyone except where and when for a little fun. A relationship is something I've never needed, especially not since she came into the picture, ruining what I think of them . . . and more, women.
Rebecca.
The fucking Devil's advocate.
I should have been the one to do it the day she showed up at my house.
