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Juliet
I carry the towels up the hall and slow down when I get toward the end of the corridor. I’m at the nursing home tonight. And even though I know that he doesn’t remember his son, I know it’s his dad.
I stop at the door and watch him through the window for a moment. He’s lying in bed and watching the television, seemingly happy as a clam.
I mean, he is happy because, thankfully, he doesn’t remember to be sad. I brace myself and then knock softly. “Come in,” he calls.
“Hello.” I smile as I open the door. “How are you, Mr. James?”
“Good.” He keeps watching television. I glance up to see it’s a football game tonight.
I replace his towels and straighten his blankets. “Have you had a good day?”
“It was okay.” His eyes stay focused on the screen. “Better if that damn cat stopped scratching.”
I smile and fold the blanket up at his feet. “He’s annoying, isn’t he?”
“You have no idea,” he grumbles. “Getting on my last nerve.”
I smile, and something about Mr. James makes me feel better. I’m really missing my parents this week.
The phone on the bedside rings, and I glance at it.
“Get that, please,” he says casually.
“But . . .”
“Answer the damn phone,” he demands. “Push the talk button.”
I pick up the phone and hit speaker. I hear Henley’s voice. “Hi, Dad.”
Emotion fills me at the sound of his voice.
“Who’s that?” Mr. James replies.
“It’s Henley.”
Mr. James’s eyes light up. “Henley.” He smiles. “Did you go to preschool today, son?”
“Not today, Dad,” Henley replies.
My heart aches for him.
“Tell your mother to come and bring me home.”
“Okay.” Henley’s voice is soft, sad.
“Ask him if he’s all right,” I whisper to Mr. James.
He frowns.
“Ask him if he’s all right,” I repeat.
“Are you all right, Hen?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Had better days, I guess.”
Tears fill my eyes. I can hear the sadness in his voice.
