Peter pulled into the Oak River Retirement Center, parked, and for what felt like the hundredth time that day, tried to figure out what in the world was going on. He was here to visit his dad–he knew that somehow–but his dad didn’t live here, did he? Didn’t his dad live on the other side of the country? Yet, here he was, sitting in his parked car, about to go visit him, and trying to figure out what in the world was missing. For the last couple of days, it had felt like there was some gigantic hole in his life, one he could barely begin to fathom or understand, and so he had just been hiding from it this entire time– trying his hardest to pretend it wasn’t there…but now that he was here the feeling was only getting stronger.
He wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to be here, and yet he didn’t have a choice; he had to visit his father. The father who shouldn’t even be here, as far as he could even recall. Full of apprehension, he got out of the car, walked inside, and followed the signs to his father’s room upstairs. Outside, there was some…smell coming from the door, something like smoke. He knocked, and after a moment the door opened, and Peter found himself facing the same nurse who had been so nice to him a few days before.
“Ah, Peter! There you are. We were beginning to get a bit anxious,weren’t we Harry?”
There was some sort of grunt from inside the room, but if it was words, Peter hadn’t been able to make out what his father had said.
“How is he doing?” Peter asked.
“Well!” the nurse said, then paused, “Or at least better than he was doing when he arrived. I’ve gotten him all settled in, and now that he’s surrounded by his things, he’s doing much better recalling memories, names, that sort of thing. But…well, I still don’t think he remembers you very clearly, so don’t be…shocked if he says some stuff that seems out of character, or…well, outright mean. Your dad does have a…gruff streak, I’m sure you’re familiar with.” The nurse gave him a wink. “Oh, and my name is Ferris, I don’t think I properly introduced myself before.”
Peter shook his hand, and then followed him into the apartment, and Peter found himself feeling…confused. None of these things were his father’s…and the man sitting in the recliner, watching TV was most certainly not the father he remembered. He could see the same look of confusion on the strange old man’s face as well–clearly he was not in the right place. But before he could voice his confusion, apologize for intruding, and leave, he looked up and found himself caught in the nurse’s eyes…and then nothing else particularly mattered beyond that.
“Say hello to your father, Peter,” Ferris said.
“Hi…Dad…” he muttered, and the old man looked at Mr. Elory like he was an idiot.
“I thought you said that my son was coming over. That is not my son, he can’t be.”
“Now Harry, we discussed this. You said you would be nice when your son arrived, even if you didn’t quite remember him exactly.”
“That,” Harry said, pointing a finger very forcefully in Peter’s direction, “That fellow can not be my son, Wilbur! You know that as well as I do. What kind of game are you playing, trying to pull a fast one on me? I…I might not remember much very clearly, but I know I’d never raise a limp wristed little faggot like that!”
The words stung, but Peter didn’t really mind–but why had his dad called Ferris, ‘Wilbur’? His dad obviously wasn’t in his right mind. “I, uh, can come back some other time, when he’s feeling more like himself.”
“Nonsense!” Mr. Elroy said, wrapped an arm around Peter’s waist and pulled him deeper into the smoky sitting area, and sitting him down on the sofa there, to the side of Harry’s recliner. “This is just what he needs. He’s never going to remember you of you don’t spend some time together. Why don’t we all discuss some of our favorite memories? I bet that will help your dad remember you better.”
But Peter wasn’t listening. Peter was just staring off into space, a happy little grin on his face, not really here nor there. Satisfied that Peter was occupied for the moment, Mr. Elroy turned to Harry, “It is a bit disappointing, isn’t it? I would have expected your son to be more like you too, Harry. Strong, with a good work ethic. Someone who’d want to be working with their hands, not at a computer all day.”
“He don’t even smoke,” Harry said.
“That he doesn’t,” Mr. Elroy said, “But you know, maybe we can do something about that, Harry, just you and I.” He walked over to where Harry was sitting, put a hand on his shoulder, and heard Harry moan slightly at his touch. “See, I don’t think your son remembers you too clearly either. I think that if he had a clearer memory of his childhood…well, that might clarify a few things for him. He might even end up with a whole new perspective on who he is. Family can do that, you know, and memories are such…a powerful thing.”
***
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Bracken's Corner 