... A Short Story ...

When she left the office she felt lighter. Fumbling through her purse she dialed home, longing for a comforting voice.

"Hello?"
"Hi Mom. How was your day?"
"My day was really good up until 30 minutes ago."
"Why? Oh no. What happened?" She felt her stomach drop. Did someone die again? Not again. Please not again.
"Have you talked to dad today?"
She thought. Yes. He called me at work around 10:30 and he sounded fine. Fuck. Was he drunk? He didn't sound drunk. Should I lie? Fuck.
"No. Why?" Why did I just lie? I totally talked to him.
"I tried calling him and texting him and I haven't talked to him all day."
"Wait. Yes. He did call me at work this morning and he sounded fine. Is he home now?"
"Well, I tried calling him again once I got home and he still wasn't answering. I have no clue where he was. Then I heard noises and crashing in the garage and the garage door was open. Chris and Michelle were carrying dad in. He was so out of it, he had no clue where he was. He couldn't walk. He couldn't talk."
Fuck.
"Oh my god."
"We tried to carry him upstairs, but then I said it would probably be easier to bring him downstairs. He's sleeping there now. I've never seen him like that."
"Oh my god. Do you think he was on drugs?"
"I don't know. I don't even know where he was or who he was with. I'm so embarrassed. What if he was downtown? I'm so embarrassed."
"Don't be embarrassed, mom. It's him, not you."
"I know."
"Do you think he's going to get sick?" What a dumb fucking question. Of course he's going to get sick, you idiot.
"Probably."
"I know what you're feeling right now, mom. I really do."
"Yeah, well, it's a little different when it's a 70 year old man."
"I know."
How did we get here? When did he become this way? This man? Foreign. This is foreign. Where am I? 62. Get off on 62. Fuck traffic. Where is my loving, caring, handsome father in this? Blurry.
"I can't lift him by myself. What if he tries to move?" Blurry. What did she just say?
"Don't leave him alone. I'm sorry, mom. I know I didn't do anything , but I'm sorry this is happening. Did you talk to Peggy today? Do you think she will come over or.." Dumb. No of course not, you idiot. Why would she want anyone to see this situation? This is awkward. Why is this awkward? I want to hug mom.
"I sent her a text to walk with me, but I don't think I'll go anywhere now and I don't want anyone coming here."
No shit.
"I know." Should I try to make small talk?
"I just have no idea where he was or who he was with."
"I know." This scares her. It scares me too. Drugs? Booze? His prescriptions? Fuck. This is bad. Will this kill him? What if he dies? He killed himself. "He is going to be so sick from this, mom."
"I know."
"Like... sick for days, mom."
"I know...It makes so so sad that he does this to himself." I need to end this conversation. Dad. Why?
"Please call me if anything happens to dad or text me. I don't think anything will, bu.."
"I will."
"I love you."
"I love you too."

She hung up and tried to cry. Why can't I cry. There were no tears left. Should I call Tim? Should I call Pam? What are they even going to say. They don't know him like I do. They aren't here. They don't know. They won't understand. Maybe what they don't know and don't see won't hurt them. Tim might laugh. Laugh. Laugh. Laugh.

She called a friend. The situation magnified itself and became more serious, but she knew she needed perspective. An intervention? Treatment? Are you crazy? This is my dad you're talking about. He's 71 years old. What the fuck.
__________________________________

He never used to drink. She had no recollection of him ever drinking. Just love. Only love. I will always remember love. There still is love.

And she was grateful for that.