Chapter 7
LEE
When things get a little too tough for me to handle, I stop by Beau’s mom’s house for a home-cooked meal. Sure, Joey cooks for me, too, but those meals can be too hard for me to accept at times—along with the meal comes the care and kindness that feel like they might choke me some days.
Cindy approaches me a little bit differently.
Probably because she’s been like my mother since I was a little kid, not too long after my mother left me and my father behind for better dreams. I don’t blame her for cutting her losses once she realized my father was never going to change in any sort of meaningful way.
Cindy’s property is as gorgeous as it ever was.
The oaks line the dirt driveway that leads to the farmhouse.
I’d offered to take up mowing after David died, but it seems Beau maintains that chore for now.
Maybe Trevor as well. I gently close my car door and head toward the front door, not the least bit surprised when she opens it with a knowing smile.
“I’ve got chicken and dumplings going. Been going all day, just how you like it,” Cindy says before enveloping me in a warm hug.
I hug her tight, fighting back the urge to cry.
When she pulls away, she gives me that look she always does, like she can see into the very pit of me.
“Let’s eat and talk. I made red velvet cake. ”
“You need to teach Joey,” I tell her as I follow her inside.
The house is warm and smells like the food she’s had cooking on the stove all day.
It reminds me of how my grandma’s house used to feel when I’d needed to run away.
There was always food on the stove and a filled cookie jar.
I follow Cindy into the kitchen and take a seat at the dining table that’s probably been around longer than I’ve been on this earth.
The older Cindy gets, the more her hair fades from a shocking auburn to a light strawberry, but I’ll always think of her as our town Reba, what with the way she styles it and the shock of red it used to be.
Cindy appears in front of me with a glass of sweet sun tea and a smile. “You look a little down in the dumps, kiddo.”
“It’s been a long week.”
“Tell me about it,” she says simply as she takes the seat next to me. Her hand covers mine and the tears gather before I can hold them back. She makes a pitying sort of face before holding my hand tighter. “Tell me.”
“I don’t want to be responsible for my father.”
“I know.”
“I hate him,” I whisper, feeling like I’m uttering words that’ll get me killed.
“I do too,” Cindy says, her upper lip stern to hold back her own tears. “I hate him for what he did to you and I hate him for making David pull a shotgun on him to make him stop. And I hate that I couldn’t take you away from there, sweetheart. I do.”
“We did the best we could,” I say to avoid her feeling bad.
Cindy scoffs. “All of us could’ve done better. We could’ve. I tried to give you a home to run to that was like your grandma’s. Someplace to escape.”
She did give me that. She did. Both her and David, and Beau, and Joey and his family. I never felt like I didn’t have anywhere to go. It made my teen years much easier than they could’ve been.
“You did give me somewhere to go.”
Cindy pats my hand with a watery smile. “Well, all we can do now is fix it going forward. You don’t gotta go see him in that home.
If you want someone to check up on him, I’ll do it.
You tell me what you need. Or tell Beau.
Or you could tell Joey.” Cindy stresses Joey’s name in a way it almost sounds like he’s my husband. I hate it. “Lee?”
“I gotta move on with my life… move on from Joey.”
Cindy stands with a sigh. “That’s a big conversation, kid. Let’s eat while we talk. We’ll feel better with full bellies.”
She’s probably right. I’ve never been good at making any sort of decision on an empty stomach.
I watch with a rock-sized lump in my throat as Cindy fills two bowls with chicken and dumplings and brings them over to the table.
I sigh as the savory, rich smell of the meal reaches my nose.
One spoonful fixes everything. The tension leaks from my shoulders, and I’ve eaten half a bowl before I even realize it.
Cindy smiles at me from over her bowl of the comfort meal she makes for me far more often than I’d like to admit.
“So, Joey?” Cindy prods.
I sigh wearily. “I can’t keep loving him. I gotta… let this go. It’s hurting Savannah.”
Cindy hums thoughtfully, eyes a little glazed over in thought. “Have you ever thought about talking to him? Seeing where he’s at?”
Now it’s my turn to scoff, earning myself a narrow-eyed stare from her. “I’m scared I’d ruin the friendship. I’d rather just… let him go. It’s better off for everyone.”
“I think Joey might not agree.”
“This isn’t Joey’s choice.”
Cindy laughs. “I think ending a twenty-year friendship because you’re in love with him is just as much his choice as yours. But I’m an old fuddy-duddy, so what do I know?”
“You know a lot,” I grumble before shoveling more food into my mouth.
“I just think talking to Joey might be worth it. Or, well…” Cindy makes a thoughtful face before whispering, “Or listening to him when he speaks.”
“I guess.”
“But your dad might be the easier thing to handle.”
“In time,” I say.
“In time,” Cindy agrees.
We finish our dinner and move on to dessert.
Red velvet cake is one of my favorite desserts of hers, not counting her famous hummingbird cake.
It’s sweet and coats my mouth, somehow fighting back the melancholy that’s been choking me lately.
By the time the sun is set and it’s time to head home, I have a container of chicken and dumplings and a covered plate of red velvet cake.
Cindy hugs me by the front door, tight and a little painful, but I hug her just as hard back.
When I pull away, she pats my cheek, giving me a soft, trembling smile. “You grew up to be such a good boy, Lee. You really did. Your grandmother would be so proud of you.”
“I always wanna make her proud.”
Cindy kisses my cheek. “You did. Remember what I said. Try listening to Joey when he talks, okay? Sometimes we say things we really mean when we’re faced with losing the ones we love.”
“Okay,” I grumble, and she laughs at me as I head toward my truck. I send a final wave her way as I turn around in the driveway and watch her disappear in the rearview mirror.
Maybe listening to Joey has its merits, but sometimes he says more with his silence, and I’ve become an expert at listening to the quiet more than his words.
My stomach twists as I walk toward my dad’s room in the memory care facility.
In some ways the short walk feels like a death march, like the beginning of the end.
This will be the first time I’ve seen him since he was brought in.
I get reports from the nurses and doctors, letting me know that he’s adjusting well, but I want to see for myself.
The father I know is violent and unkind, but the nurses seem to adore him, so what the hell do I know.
“Mister Bradley, you have a visitor,” Chandra says as she knocks on his door and lets me in.
My father is sitting in a recliner, gaze a little distant, but he smiles at the sound of her voice. “My favorite nurse.”
“You say that to every nurse,” Chandra teases with a wink.
She disappears out the door, leaving me alone with my father. He stares at me for a moment, until he finally smiles widely. “David!”
Ah. Okay. The doctors told me not to argue with him on days he doesn’t recognize me. Just go with it and spend time with him. It’ll always be a little unsettling, though, to not see the anger in his eyes just at the very sight of me.
“Hi, Alfred.” I take a seat in the chair opposite him. I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans and clear my throat awkwardly, not exactly sure what to say. “How’s it going?”
“Call me Alfie.”
“Okay.”
Dad smiles and rocks gently in his chair. “You must be home from the military. How long is your leave this time?”
“A couple of months,” I lie.
Dad sighs in sympathy. “Me too. But mine’s permanent this time. They say I have PTSD. Almost piss myself every time I hear a gunshot.”
“Oh.”
He taps the side of his head. “I’m a nut job.”
“No, that’s probably not true. Being a veteran is difficult.”
“I’m ready to start a family anyway, settle down.”
“That sounds nice. I heard you’ve been painting.”
Dad points to the canvas beside the television.
On it is a painting of a cow out to graze, the sun rising behind it.
It looks like my grandma’s farm. The fact he can remember things like that but not remember his own son will always boggle my mind.
But maybe him not remembering me anymore is the kindest thing.
We sit in silence for a while, and it seems like he’s forgotten I’m there with the way he watches NASCAR on the television.
I sit quietly and watch the cars go round and round with him for a while.
When I stand to leave, he doesn’t pay me any mind.
I leave the room quietly, closing the door shut behind me.
I wander over to the nurses’ desk to find the same nurse from earlier.
“So?” I ask Chandra, because I don’t know what else to ask.
“He’s doing better, less violent now that he’s used to his surroundings. Have you seen the reports from the doctors?”
“Uhm, yes. His liver?”
“Not too good,” Chandra says, voice a little pitying. “Seeing him on a frequent basis might be the best idea for now.”
“All right.”