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Allison stared down at their hands. Their pinkies were still interlocked. She had no idea what it meant, but she knew she didn’t want to let go. In some ways, his hand felt like the only thing keeping her in this moment.
Her finger tightened around his. In less than an hour, she’d be at the hospital. What was she supposed to do? To say? Of course, she hadn’t hesitated to come when her mother told her what happened, but her feelings toward Jed hadn’t changed. He was a lousy father and he’d been awful to Allison for too long. She didn’t want him in her life right now. But she didn’t wish him dead either.
It was an impossible situation. Maybe that was why Allison found herself adjusting her hand so not only her pinky, but all her fingers nestled into the crooks between Colin’s. His skin was always cool, but somehow it warmed her as their palms pressed together.
She saw the surprised twitch of his head toward her, but she kept her eyes glued to the road.
“You doing okay?” he asked softly.
“I think the donuts and water helped.”
“I didn’t mean physically.”
Allison exhaled, letting the air hiss between her teeth. “No, I’m not okay.”
“Want to talk about it?” He gave her hand a squeeze.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t think. Just let loose whatever’s on your mind. That’s what my therapist has me do when I’m feeling super emotional.”
“You see a shrink?” As usual, the words had more control over her mouth than Allison did.
Colin snorted. “Jack would say that he does not have the right degrees to properly be called a ‘shrink,’ but yes. I started seeing him this summer after Granddad’s dementia got bad enough that we had to move him to a facility.”
“Dementia?” Had this been what he’d meant when he said his grandfather was getting old? Allison’s heart dropped. “I’m so sorry.”
Colin’s smile was sad. “He got the diagnosis years ago, but for so long it was mild. Sometimes he couldn’t think of the right word for something or he’d forget what he’d done an hour ago, things like that. Even the first year I lived with him after graduation, it wasn’t too bad. I had to keep more of an eye on him at night because the confusion often set in after dinner. Sundown syndrome, they call it.” He sniffed and blinked hard. “But last winter, things declined fast. That’s when we knew he couldn’t live at home anymore.”
Allison rested her free hand over Colin’s knuckles. The gesture seemed more helpful than any words she could think of.
“He doesn’t always know who I am. But he never forgets the books. He says at least one lucid thing about the medieval period every time I see him.” A small smile struggled across Colin’s mouth. “The nurses say it’s the visits, they help, so my aunt, my mom, and I try to make sure one of us goes to see him every day.”
Allison tightened her grip on his hand. “I’m sure even on the bad days, somewhere inside him, he knows you’re there.”
“Maybe. Dementia can eat away at a person until nothing of them is left.” Colin worked his mouth, up and down, up and down, as if the tension made it ache. Or maybe it was the words that came out of his mouth next. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing it more for me than for him.”
“What do you mean?”
Colin squinted at the road. His eyes shined a little too glossy behind his glasses, and he used his knee to steer for a quick moment as he swiped at them with his knuckle. Allison loosened her fingers in case he wanted to let go, but he only reaffirmed his grip, pulling their clasped hands into his lap as if to protect them.
“For the guilt, you know? So, when he’s gone, I can feel better knowing I went to see him, even if it didn’t do anything for him at all.”
The words pierced Allison. Too real. Too true. Like hearing your native language spoken amid a sea of foreign words.
Was that what this trip was about for her, too? Was she trying to assuage her own guilt? Because not seeing her father when he was this ill would be awful. Right? Her mother would certainly think so. And Allison didn’t want to be perceived as awful. Nor did she wish to feel that way about herself.
How selfish wasthat?
“I get that. Too much.”
For a second, she considered having Colin turn the car around. But she swallowed back the urge. It was late, and they were both exhausted, and having him drive her all this way for nothing seemed unfair.
She smoothed the hem of her dress against her knees. She should have changed before she left. Or packed a bag. Who knew what kind of rejected outfits she had waiting for her at her mom’s house.
“Yeah?” Colin’s thumb drew down the heel of Allison’s palm so gently her body trilled.
“That’s probably exactly why we’re in this car right now. Guilt. Because I don’t want to be that person who doesn’t go visit their sick father.” Allison dropped her head back against the headrest. “But if I’m being honest, he doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve me leaving my own party, or rushing four hours to his side in the middle of the night, or me having to ask my friend to drive me because I’m too drunk from said party—”
