Gentleman Nine

Mom’s condition deteriorated significantly over the years. Her dementia had an atypically fast progression. We tried to keep her at home for as long as possible, but it became too difficult to give her the care she needed, especially after the baby came. We got her into a facility close to home, though, and thankfully, they seemed to be taking really good care of her. Several necklaces adorned her neck. Her hair was done up nice, and her nails were always freshly painted. The women who worked there really made sure she looked and smelled good.

I visited her every single day without fail. Amber and I would only take Lainey to see her occasionally, since that was always an emotionally draining experience.

Our daughter was conceived a year after Amber and I got married. Since we weren’t using condoms anymore and Amber could never handle the pill, we just paid close attention to her cycle, leaving things somewhat up to fate. And fate brought us Lainey sooner than we’d anticipated.

My mother caressed her granddaughter’s pigtails. “You remind me of someone. You know that?”

Lainey looked just like her namesake—my sister—and even though my mother couldn’t figure out the connection, it was comforting to know that on some level, she remembered.

“Mom, we have to go, but I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

My mother smiled. “Well, aren’t you nice.”

It definitely hurt when she didn’t remember me. Most days she didn’t realize why I was coming to visit her aside from me being “some nice guy.” That didn’t matter; I would still be there for her in the same way that I would if she were a hundred percent aware.

We hugged my mother goodbye before making our way home.

As we drove down the road, Amber turned to me.

“Guess who’s getting married?”

“Who?”

“Rory.”

“No shit?”

“Yup.”

I knew Amber still kept in touch with Rory. He’d moved out to Seattle for work, and about a year ago, he’d told her he met someone, a widow with three kids he’d taken on as his own. He seemed genuinely happy, and that definitely gave Amber some peace.

“Well, good. I’m happy for him,” I said.

She smiled. “Me, too.”

As we continued to drive, we encountered a traffic jam, and it didn’t take long to figure out why. Turned out, the carnival was in town. We had taken a different route home, so we hadn’t passed it on the way to see Mom. But it was no surprise. I’d seen the signs posted all over recently.

This wasn’t just any carnival. It was the carnival, the same yearly fair where the accident happened eleven years ago. I’d passed it before over the past couple of years, but never with Lainey in the car.

She pressed her little finger up against the window. “Mama! I want to go! I want to go!”

My stomach dropped as fear filled Amber’s eyes. I knew she wanted to give in to our daughter’s request. The only thing holding her back was me, or rather her fear of my freaking out. Amber would never suggest we stop unless I insisted.

It was true that I hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of visiting a carnival since my sister’s death. Aside from the brief experience in Boston with Milo, I’d managed to avoid them altogether. But I was a father now, and my daughter deserved to visit the carnival if that was what she really wanted. It wasn’t fair to allow my fear to affect her life.

My attitude had also changed somewhat over the past few years. Mom’s illness had taught me that life was too short to live in fear. Yes, accidents happen, but you couldn’t spend your life worrying about the possibility of tragedy. Life was hard enough. I knew it was now or never.

“We can go to the carnival, baby.”

Amber looked shocked to hear me say that. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I need to do this for her.”

She placed her hand on mine. “Okay.”

One foot in front of the other.

That’s what I told myself as we entered the fairgrounds. Yes, I was terrified, but all it took was one look at my little girl’s face to calm me down somewhat. She’d never been to anything like this before. Her eyes were flitting all over the place as she took in the sights and sounds.

That was when it hit me. I had two choices. Freak out or calm the fuck down and share some damn cotton candy with my daughter. I chose the latter.

We ended up playing some games, and Amber took Lainey on a few of the kiddie rides—you know, the ones that were safely planted on the ground.

Right when we were about to leave, Lainey pointed to the Ferris wheel. “I wanna go up! Up!”

“Next time, Lainey,” she was quick to say.

Was I really going to prevent my daughter from enjoying a ride on the Ferris wheel because of my fear? Yes, I was more comfortable with all of us on the ground, but the guilt of denying her that experience was eating away at me. I knew that would be wrong.