When I woke up next morning, I realized I still had my shoes on.
Does it get any more depressing than this? I thought.
On the other hand, I mused, it was very efficient. Take a piss. Brush the teeth. Pop the pills. Out the door.
Saved time.
The pills didn’t kick in right away. I made a mental note. Check into the effect of vast quantities of booze and cigarettes, and a touch of dope, on the effectiveness of meds.
I amended the note. Forget it. I knew the answer.
Kelly was in the kitchen. I sucked it up. Acted normal.
Where’s Mom? I asked.
My room.
Asleep?
Yep.
Okay.
Kelly busied herself with her omelet. Diced the garlic, the pancetta. Grated Emmental, ground some peppercorns.
Kelly was very particular about her omelets.
She sat down across from me while it cooked.
Dad?
Yes, angel child?
She smiled.
About Mom?
Yes?
You shouldn’t be so hard on her.
Hard on her? Kelly, I’m not hard on her. I do everything for her.
Yes, you are. You’re hard on her.
What are you talking about? Jeez. Do you have any idea what she’s put us through?
A foolish question, I realized at once. Kelly rolled her eyes.
Yes, I do, she said. I do. But she can’t help it.
Well, I don’t necessarily agree with you there. She’s helping herself now, isn’t she? Since she got back? She’s trying really hard.
That’s not what I mean. Of course she’s trying. But that’s just the point. She wants to get better. But it’s not easy.
You think I don’t know that?
No. You know that.
Then what’s your point?
The buzzer on the stove rang. Kelly got up to turn off the burner. She put on her cow-shaped oven mitt to put the pan in the oven, to briefly brown the top.
Kelly loved her cows. We’d gotten them on a whim one day, at Ben amp; Jerry’s. They’d been hanging on the wall, with other oddities for sale. Absurdly overpriced oddities. But we couldn’t resist the cows.
I think I’m very patient, angel child.
You’re patient, Daddy. You’re patient. But your patience shows.
My patience shows.
Yes. It shows. She sees it. She sees you being patient. Holding it in. It’s like she’s some cancer patient and nobody wants to tell her it’s terminal. They whisper about it, thinking she can’t hear. But she hears it. She sees it. It hurts her.
I was taken aback. The truth be told, I’d long ago stopped ascribing ordinary feelings to Melissa. She’d become a task, a puzzle, a conundrum. A burden, a challenge. Anything but a person, really. And Kelly knew it.
I felt ashamed. And angry. God, how much could this life expect of me? As it was, I felt my life was held together with rotting string and brittle masking tape. One trip, one fall, one more jolt and it would fall apart. Like a house of cards.
Okay, was all I could say. Okay. I get you. I’ll try. I’ll try harder.
She hugged me for that. She kissed my cheek.
There was nothing sweeter.