Chapter Eighteen #2
“So how often do you talk to him?” The silence is broken by Lyndsey this time and I’m not sure if I’m glad for it.
“Not as often as I should, I make way too many excuses but none of them seem worth it now.” Lyndsey has this way of making me tell the truth, even if I don’t know it’s the truth until I say it.
“So I’m about to walk into a cold war between two Anders men?”
I try to laugh but its barely even audible. “I love him, I just don’t like to be around him. It hurts us both. I can never be what he wants and he will always see me as a lesser version than his son.” I look over in the car to see Lyndsey as she processes that.
“So you are both just stubborn men?” she asks, her head shaking with a deep sigh.
“What?” I find a space to park the SUV near the back of the visitor lot.
“Trying so hard to hide how you feel you have let it split you apart from someone you love. Classic men.” Then she opens the damn door and jumps out before I can reply.
“Well shit, darlin’, you don’t take it easy on me.” I follow her towards the big glass door that leads to the reception. The building is bright and open, unlike the prison-type buildings I imagined care homes were when I was a kid.
Lyndsey smiles reassuringly but it doesn’t really help.
She isn’t wrong though. There is a gorge between me and Pops and as much as I want to put all the blame on the old man the truth is I’m just as much to blame.
I ran away instead of holding my ground.
Shit, I’m here pretending to be married instead of just admitting to him that I’m not really holding up my end of the bargain when it comes to Dad’s will.
I take down grown men on skates for a living but the man who raised me is a step too far.
I don’t recognise the woman who takes us to Pops’ room.
I barely even see her. She’s a short woman in clinical blue scrubs.
My mind can’t focus on anything except Lyndsey’s hand linked in mine – it somehow found its way to mine, but I’m not willing to question why too much.
She must be able to feel my anxious energy.
Or perhaps she’s anxious herself. I don’t blame her.
Or, like I suspect, she’s playing her wife role.
Going with the plan. I use the feeling of her skin as distraction from the impending sense of doom I feel with each step closer.
Alice warned me of what I would see. I don’t know why I’m surprised to see him, and yet I am.
His skin looks almost grey where he sits in an armchair looking out of the window.
The room he lives in is nice. The whole place is nice.
I wouldn’t have put him somewhere dated to spend his days, that’s one thing we can agree on.
The window is big and looks out over a garden dotted with trees and flowers; outside I can see another elderly resident, a woman, shuffling around aided only by a walker.
When he hears the door open, Pops looks up to see who has disturbed his day, only to light up when he sees me.
His posture is hunched and folded and he looks so much older.
When I picture him in my mind he is still the man in his late fifties that he was when I was a kid, the man who ran after me and taught me how to change a tyre.
That man is a distant memory compared to the image in front of me now.
“Aiden, my boy, about time you showed your face.” His voice is a lot quieter, everything about him is quiet.
Fuck, I’m a terrible grandson. I might just be a terrible person because I’m trying to swindle this man.
It might not be for money, but into believing the love-marriage display I’m about to put on.
All the same, it feels wrong to lie to a man who can’t fight back.
I swallow hard. I’m doing this for him, so he can see his son’s stuff one last time.
So that I can see it too. It has to be worth it.
Instead of answering him, I lead Lyndsey over to his side before hugging him lightly, scared that if I hold him any tighter, I’ll break a bone. His eyes slide from me to Lyndsey as he pulls out of my arms. He smirks at me then.
“Well, hello there, ma’am, I’m William, who might you be?” He is definitely turning on his southern charm as he lifts her hand up to his lips.
“Nice to meet you, William, I’m Lyndsey.” I can see the humour in her eyes, I think she might have been expecting something different: a sinister, evil old man, not this.
“She’s pretty, Aiden, too pretty for you. If I were a few years younger, and all that.” He waves his hand in the air, floating his joke. They both laugh at that before he gestures us over to sit on the end of the bed nearest to him.
“I’m sorry I haven’t visited much, time slips by so quick.” It’s a weak excuse but it’s the only one I have.
“You can blame me, it takes a lot of time to put up with me. Aiden is pretty much a saint for loving me.” I can hear how tight Lyndsey’s voice is but that’s just because I know her, to him it probably sounds sweet and apologetic. Exactly what she was hoping for.
“Well, I can’t begrudge that, I’d spend all my time with you too.” He smiles at her. She has him wrapped around her little finger so quick. Must be an Anders-men gene.
“I’m sure anyone would be lucky to spend so much time with you.” She winks and I feel some tension flow out of her as her fingers loosen in my hand but I don’t let go. I can’t.
“I like her a lot, you should get her down the aisle before someone nabs her from you.” Pops moves his gaze to me and my pulse hammers in my neck at the open door he has given me.
“That’s actually why we’re here. Pops, Lyndsey is my wife.”
Stunned silence fills the room. Lyndsey’s grip tightens again, her ring finger now the focal point of the room.
Then he starts to laugh. It’s quiet at first, just an air-filled sound wheezing out of him, until he coughs out a louder one.
His cardigan-covered shoulders shake as he looks at us.
For a split second I think he has us to rights, he knows we are full of shit.
Then he reaches out for Lyndsey’s hands, pulling her into a hug like the one he gave me.
“Congratulations, my boy! You’ve just made my damn day. Hell, my year.” He shakes my hand, his grip weak but his smile strong.
“Thanks, Pops, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I didn’t want to get everyone’s hopes up if things didn’t work out.” My heart doesn’t feel like it is going to slow down any time soon. Seeing how all I have done is lie the last few days, you would think I would feel calmer than this by now.
“In case I got sick of him, he means.” Lyndsey and Pops laugh and, when she sits down beside me again instead of taking my hand, she places her hand on my thigh squeezing to try and calm me. It just works me up more. The heat of her hand through my jeans is strong and distracting.
“She reminds me of my Lulu, gonna keep you in line, that’s for sure,” Pops chuckles.
“I’m sure she will… Lulu was my grandmother, the love of his life.
Her and her baked goods were some of the best parts of my childhood,” I explain to Lyndsey, before facing my grandfather again.
“Pops. I, erm, I have something for you.” I change the subject, pulling the box from Lyndsey’s bag.
Based on the sharp inhale I think he knows what it is.
“Aid?” His voice is weak but stiff with emotion as I place the box on his lap.
He doesn’t open it straight away. No, he rubs a shaking hand over the wood.
I consider giving him a minute alone but I also don’t want to miss this.
So I don’t. Lyndsey and I sit as he opens the box filled with memories of his son.
There are hundreds of emotions: sadness and grief, of course, but I can see how happy he is to see this stuff again.
After all this time he has a piece of his son back again.
He is gentle as he riffles through it, looking at the drawings and letters, lifting the medals into the light to see how they gleam.
The sadness is lifted the more he explores.
We sit in silence for a while before his eyes jump from the box to my eyes.
“Say, did you get my letter?” he asks, effectively stopping my heart.
It’s no longer just beating fast, it’s hammering.
“What letter?” I cough. Lyndsey squeezes my thigh again, keenly noticing my fear.
“I sent a letter a few days ago, I never know how long these things take nowadays,” he grumbles, like a clichéd old man from a film.
“Nope, I didn’t see anything before we left, is everything okay?” I don’t think I have ever said nope to him before, this is not the time to expand my vocabulary. I catch Lyndsey out of the corner of my eye biting her lip at my terrible lying skills.
“Everything is just right, Aiden, you can throw it right away when you get back, there’s no need for it now that y’all are here.
” He shakes his head, gratitude and relief washing over him.
Well, that sounds like a plan to me. Sensing my need to move on, Lyndsey distracts him with questions about me as a kid.
As if she didn’t get enough ammunition from my sisters.
The three of us talk for a while, but I can see the energy that our news gave him starting to wane.
Being the strong, stubborn man he is, Pops doesn’t ask us to leave nor does he drop the mask of strength he is trying to hide behind.
If Lyndsey can see how tired he is, she doesn’t comment on it.
Instead she takes the lead in the conversation, asking fewer questions and telling him all about my current achievements, even if he doesn’t seem as interested.