When I wake up, my head feels like it’s about to burst any second now. The pounding is excruciating. Like I went to sleep resting my head on African drums. But the warmth of the blanket covering my body tells me I’m in bed instead of outside on the front lawn where I expected to wake up. I rub my face, while slowly all my senses seem to come alive, putting me in anguish. My throat is as dry as sandpaper, and the taste of my bile still sits on my tongue, making my stomach somersault. But in a way, I welcome the pain, reminding me my senses are still alive.
“Morning, sunshine.”
With heavy lids, I lock eyes with my uncle, then close them in hopes that he won’t be here when I open them again.
“Not going to work, buddy.”
Dammit.
“What are you doing?” The stern look on my uncle’s face makes it obvious he’s not talking about my current state. He doesn’t mean, why the fuck are you hangover like you’re still in college? No, he means, what the fuck are you doing with your life?
“I don’t know.” It’s the most honest I’ve been in a while because I truly don’t know. I have no clue what the hell I’m doing, and I hate that feeling. I hate not being in control. Since my father was admitted to Peartree Park, I’ve been wondering if this is how he felt with my mother.
Powerless.
Hopeless.
Helpless.
In the last year, I’ve seen my father wither away, slowly being dragged out of his soul until there was nothing left but bones and skin.
“Wanna tell me why you’re trying to drink yourself to death?”
Uncle Lucas rubs his beard, leaning into the rocking chair of the corner of the room. He looks like the epitome of a lumberjack in his plaid shirt, with one of his boots resting on his knee.
“Because it’s easy?” I pull a face, trying to soften him up a little, but it does jack shit.
“What the fuck happened to my nephew? You know, the one who’s had his ducks in a row since he was fifteen. The one who is the CEO of a multi-million-dollar company. The one who wouldn’t treat a girl like shit.”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s on vacation.”
“It’s not funny, Bodi.” The disappointment in his tone slices through me, lifting all the hairs on my body. “Your father would be turning around in his grave right now.”
“Fuck!” I huff, lifting my body up to settle against the headboard. “Low blow, man.”
He shrugs. Like an asshole. “If it wakes you up.”
His dark green eyes stay fixed on me. I square my shoulders, trying to hold my own against him for as much as you can while sitting in a damn bed. I know my rigid stance is pulling it off, but I’m squirming on the inside, knowing I won’t win the staring game from my uncle. He’s always the one who’s been picking up wherever my father left off, and both of them are my biggest example. They represent the type of man I want to be. One loving and caring to a fault, the other fair and just without a filter. I like to believe I’m somewhere in the middle, a product of the both of them, combined with the soft touch of my mother, but deep down, it feels like one big lie. Neither of these men would treat a woman the way I treated Kayla.
I wonder how my father did it. How he loved my mother endlessly, even though he knew she was slipping away more and more every day. How can you give your entire being for something that’s so evidently not eternal.
Frustrated, I rub my hands over my cheeks before letting them fall to my lap with a loud thud.
“Why did dad keep taking care of my mom?”
“What do you mean?′
“She was an addict. He clearly wasn’t enough to make her stop using. I clearly wasn’t enough. Yet he kept giving her chance after chance after chance.” I get angrier with every word I blurt out. “He was the smartest man I knew, but he wasn’t smart enough to see it was hopeless! He was stupid when it came to my mother. She was a lost cause.”
“That’s what you think?” Lucas jumps up from his chair with a flaring rage. “That your mother was a lost cause? That your father was stupid? Did you have your eyes in your pocket your entire life, Bodi? Your father loved your mother more than anything in the world! He loved you more than anything in the world! Your mother loved both of you more than anything in the world! Every single time she was sober, she cried her eyes out, begging your father to help her because she couldn’t lose either of you! Your mother fought her addiction as hard as she could, and your father did what any good husband would do; he was there for her. In sickness and in health, for better and for worse! Don’t you dare taint my brother’s memory with whatever lies you’ve been feeding yourself. Your father did what was best for the love of his life. The mother of his child. YOU! He did it as much for you as he did for her!”
“And look what that brought him!” I roar. “When it was over, he lost his mind over his broken heart!”
The shock is evident on his face. He stays quiet, taking my words in.
“Your father didn’t lose his mind, Bodi,” he says with a shake of his head. “He got dementia. Something completely different.”
”Is it? Because we both know his behavior changed after mom died. He got dementia after she died!”
His face freezes, shock flashing across his face until his brows knit together as if a light bulb pops on in his head. His eyes shut briefly while he pushes out the air in his lungs.
“Bodi.” There is a sadness in his voice and his shoulders start to hang. “Your father was diagnosed with dementia when you were twelve.”
My mouth falls open before it snaps back, followed by a discomfort sensation tingling down my skin.
“You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie about that, Bodi? Why do you think we brought you to the states?”
My chest feels heavy as I just stare at him.
“Your father had concentration issues for about a year before that. He went to the doctor, thinking he had a lack of vitamins or something. But when the doctor did some memory tests, he noticed difficulties. Your dad had to go through a number of tests after that.” Lucas runs a hand through his hair, the hardship clear in his words. “The doctor diagnosed him with early dementia. At the time, he hid it from everyone, including your mother. He knew he was the only one who could take care of her. He only told me because he knew he couldn’t take care of your mother and you at the same time. It’s why he brought you to Maine. To me.”
“My mother didn’t know?” My voice breaks, and I become aware of the tears that have been running down my cheeks.
He shakes his head. “He needed to be her rock.”
He says it with a lightness that surprises me, as if there’s nothing else to it. As if you can just decide to be there for someone, defying all odds because you choose the other person.
Because you choose love.