Short story #1: After Dad

When the man who taught him strength becomes his greatest vulnerability, one son must finally confront the thin line between letting go and holding on.

Author’s note:

For my first short story, I’m sharing a piece I originally wrote in November 2018.

I wrote this during my time as a in-home/in-facility caregiver, where I witnessed firsthand the heartbreaking situations that can happen in healthcare.

Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy!

Bianca

After Dad

“He’s not usually like this. I’m so sorry.”

Terry still feels the room glaring at him. He is running out of excuses for his father.

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This is the third time this month he had been in this place of stark white and disinfectant. He thought that he wouldn’t have to come here again for at least another week, but his dad was getting worse. The first few times he was called here, the head nurse’s voice was soft, understanding.

Now, her harsh tone cuts through the silence.

“If he has any more incidents like this, we’ll be forced to explore other living options for Mr. Fine.” She slid a pamphlet towards Terry. “There’s a facility that’s better equipped to deal with patients who are more…” The head nurse trails off, visibly trying to maintain her professional composure. “Like your father.”

Terry reluctantly picks up the brochure. He immediately notices the name of the facility in a big, boring font: SPRING HILLS SKILLED.

On the inside, they didn’t even bother to put pictures of happy elderly patients with their cheerful nurses. The pages are full of blocks of texts about the kinds of people they’re prepared to deal with, and what insurances they take. On the back, they display their tagline proudly, “The best place to be your last resort.”

He sets down the pamphlet, almost defeated. This is the place they want to send his father to. After nearly half a year of this, he couldn’t really blame them anymore. Terry has only seen glimpses of who his dad had become, but at least he had a choice. The staff here had to see him all the time. In a way, he envied them, because they could look at the situation for what it was. It wouldn’t be difficult for them to give up on the man who raised him.

But he also felt this immense sense of relief that he didn’t work there. If Terry had to bear witness to too many of his dad’s episodes, he would lose any hope of getting him back.

“The facility is about an hour away from here, but we can set up a tour for you if you’d like.”

The nurse’s attempt at being helpful falls flat. Terry could no longer pretend he knew what was best for his father.

“We understand that this may be a hard decision to make by yourself, so we called his ex-wife—”

“You called my mom?” Terry interrupts, his body snapping to attention.

“Yes, I know she hasn’t been involved recently, but she’s listed as the second guardian for Mr. Fine. For a big decision like this, we...were hoping to get her opinion.”

Not entirely sure whether to be angry, Terry sat nearly frozen in his chair. He hasn’t talked to his mom in a while.

---

A month after the stroke, Terry wasn’t sure what the family was going to do. It had been months since he talked to his ex-wife, Maria. He desperately wanted to reach out to her, but didn’t want to slip back into needing her.

The only other person he could talk to about his father was his mother, Sylvia, but she was busy. She had been in and out of the hospital to see her then-husband every other day. Dutifully, she watched him go through physical therapy, offering encouragement whenever necessary. She would desperately try and get Terry involved, hoping maybe that would help him recover faster.

Then, Sylvia served him divorce papers.

“You’re not you anymore Derek,” His mother said, struggling to keep going. “I can’t keep pretending things will go back to the way they used to be.”

Terry watched as this woman broke his father’s heart. His mother wanted him to be there when she served the papers, because she was worried that her husband would need somebody there once she left. Terry resented his mom’s choice, but he had seen this coming for awhile.

Even before the stroke, his dad wasn’t being the best husband. He would drink way too much way too often, and it had been a long time since his mom and dad were happy. Terry listened every Sunday as his disinterested dad dominated every one of his weekly conversations with his mom. If he wasn’t drinking and ignoring his mom, he was wallowing and watching TV.

They had both given him a pass for this behavior for a while, because they were trying to be empathetic. The man’s business had gone bankrupt, and maybe he just needed some time to figure out the rest of his life.

Unfortunately, he’d never get the chance.

“You want me to sign these?” His father asked, looking more confused than upset.

“I need you to.”

Terry observed as his dad slowly realized what this meant. His wife of 32 years wanted to leave him.

“You can’t do this to me while I’m still in the hospital.” He said with watery eyes. “We’ve gotten through rough patches before--”

“This isn’t a rough patch Derek,” His mom sighed. “This is who you’ve become.”

She let what she said linger for a moment. Terry couldn’t tell if she did that because she wanted his father to take time to understand her words, or because she didn’t know what to say next.

His mom took a brief moment to glance at her son. Terry was too busy to notice. He was fixated on the blankness that had consumed his father’s eyes.

In that time of stillness, she was the first to move. She set the clipboard full of papers on the bedside table, and quietly left.

The door closing finally snapped Terry out of his trance, and but it didn’t do the same for his father. He sat there for another few minutes, completely gone. He shed no tears, even though it looked like he wanted to. He stared at the corkboard full of inspirational notes Terry’s mother would leave for him.

Then, suddenly, his father picked up the clipboard and pen. His hands trembled as he struggled to keep the clipboard still enough to write, and Terry almost couldn’t bear to watch.

He remembered his father as a proud man who would never ask for help. Now, he could barely maintain a grip on a pen. Terry sat, glued to his chair, completely powerless. He watched as his father signed his love away.

---

“Nice to see you again Sylvia,” the nurse smiled at her as Terry’s mother entered the conference room. “We were just talking about you.”

Terry didn’t have the strength to make eye contact with his mom. He was still too busy blaming her for all of this. Deep down, he knew that this wasn’t her fault, but he needed someone to be mad at. He couldn’t hate the stroke that caused his father to change into someone he didn’t recognize, and he couldn’t hate the world for letting this happen. They were inanimate and didn’t care what Terry thought about them. His mother did.

Sylvia slowly takes a chair next to Terry. She allows her gaze to linger on him a second longer than normal. Terry could tell that she missed him.

She didn’t care to acknowledge the nurse, and turns immediately to face her son. “I called you every Sunday.”

A wave of guilt violently hit Terry. He desperately wants to tell her that he was sorry, and that he didn’t mean to hurt her, but he knows that wouldn’t be enough. He couldn’t begin to explain why he thought it’s okay to take his pain out on his mother.

Terry quickly got up.

“I’m going to go see dad.”

Without letting anyone respond, he walks out, taking his shame with him.

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He could hear something going on down the hall. It isn’t quite an argument, because it isn’t two people yelling at one another. As Terry made his way to his dad’s room, he finds himself moving more and more slowly as he gets closer. He recognizes that voice.

“I told you I don’t want that fucker in here anymore!” Derek shouts. “I’ll kill him next time I see him, wait ‘til I get my hands on him!”

The second voice isn’t nearly as commanding. It is calm, but exasperated.

“Derek, we can’t remove a patient from the facility just because you don’t like them.” Her words are sharp and gentle at the same time.

Terry stood right outside the doorway, unable to move. He had only heard stories of what his dad was like when he got riled up. Somehow, he always managed to be somewhere else.

His mother had tried to tell him about his outbursts, and the way his temper would flare up almost instantly. He never let himself believe it. Even now, he wants it to not be true. This isn’t the father he knew.

He hears his dad’s walker rhythmically scuttle across the floor. Derek must be pacing, because Terry hears the same back and forth motion every so often. Terry listens intently, hoping the nurse’s soothing voice would calm him down.

“Have you called Sylvia yet?” His father’s tone is firm and authoritative. Somehow he makes a question seem more like a demand.

“She said she doesn’t want to talk today,” the nurse said, desperately trying to remain sane. “She asks that we don’t continue calling her.”

“I don’t care, keep trying!” This time, his booming shouts were reminiscent of anguish. “You people are useless, you never get anything right!”

Terry hears the nurse let out an exhausted sigh, then footsteps. She is walking out of the room.

The nurse quickly comes face to face with the son of her patient. For a moment, she seems confused and surprised to see him. Seconds later, she comprehends the situation.

“He is worse than usual today, Terry,” her voice is sympathetic, but tired. “Usually I can handle him, but today, I don’t know.”

He looked into her eyes and could feel her pain. In that brief moment, these two people who had only exchanged polite greetings to one another allowed themselves to feel a silent comfort in their lingering glance. Terry couldn’t believe that someone, much less his father, could bring themselves to yell at this person.

She abruptly walked past Terry, leaving him to come to terms with his father on his own.

“Hey dad.” Terry carefully strolled into the room, almost as if the floor were littered with eggshells.

It was obvious that Derek had been fuming minutes before. His face was still beet red, and his arms were stiff as they gripped his walker.

“Terry, hey there,” He paced around the far side of the room, but looked at his son when he addressed him. “How are things?”

Terry wondered how it was possible for his dad to sound this normal. His tone had completely changed, like he didn’t just scream at one of the staff.

“I need to talk to you.” Terry said this knowing that he had no idea what he was going to say, or how he was going to say it. He was hoping that the words would come to him just as easily as the denial of his dad’s mental health did. “Are you okay dad?”

Although he knew what he would say, he wanted so much for his father to say no. If he denies it, then that would mean his father is aware that he isn’t doing well. Terry needs him to tell him that this is all a phase, and that he would go back to normal soon. That way, all of this pain he is going through would be justified.

“What do I always tell you Terry?” His dad smiled. “What’s our last name?”

Instinctively, Terry answers. “Fine.”

“And that means we’re…?”

“Fine.”

“See?” His father stopped his pacing to give his son a reassuring look. “It’s all in the name.”

---

It was the day after Maria moved out. Throughout all of the regretful words and shouting matches, Terry had somehow maintained hope that he would work it out with his wife. They had been together for almost a decade, after all. A year of hardship shouldn’t mean they cut ties forever.

Maria and Terry agreed they should take some time apart, but they danced around talking about when they should actually go through with it. Maria suggested she move back in with her parents for awhile — something about it being too difficult to be surrounded by memories of Terry.

Terry reluctantly agreed, hoping that this would finally be the thing to make things right between them. She would pack some of her things every day, never really committing to the idea. Terry watched her pack, feeling some comfort in her hesitation. Maybe this was a sign that things will be okay.

That’s what Terry thought up until she left. Then, the morning-after came, and it was one of the worst days of his life.

Maria knew Terry was a heavy sleeper, so she left in the middle of the night. Terry woke up to her rushed, yet still graceful cursive writing, “I’m sorry.” The pain he experienced was dull and came in bursts. Remembering the deep, caramel eyes he had lost, his heart wept.

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Terry barely had enough energy to knock on his parents’ door. He felt so frail and lifeless. If the wind blew any harder, he almost thought he’d blow away.

His father answered the door. “Terry!...”

Terry never considered his dad much of an intuitive person, but something paternal must have kicked in the moment he saw his son. Terry couldn’t find it in him to look him in the eyes. A sense of shame and disappointment was keeping him from addressing his father.

Derek opened the door enough so that Terry could come in. In silence, Terry walked into his childhood home. His father led him to the kitchen, and they both sat down across from each other at the dining room table.

In the back of Terry’s mind, he reminisced about all the memories they shared in this particular place. Terry would help his father set the table as his mother cooked dinner, telling them both about his day at school. His dad would always poke fun at how excited Terry was about his schoolwork. “You didn’t get that from me,” he’d say. “That’s all your mom.”

His dad’s voice suddenly brought him back to the present. “Your mom just went out for groceries, do you want to wait for—”

“Maria left me.”

Derek sat back in his chair, shocked. There was a sadness in his eyes that only a father could understand. Terry looked at him with glossed over eyes. It was as if they were both accepting the news at the same time.

“When did it—” His father hesitated. “I know you guys were having problems, but I thought you were going to try figuring things out.”

A sharp pain hit Terry. He thought so too.

“We decided to separate.” Each word burned his throat. “It was supposed to be temporary, but I can feel it. She’s not coming back.”

There was a brief quiet between the two. Terry could feel the tears burning behind his eyes.

It was then that Derek stood up and sat in the seat right next to Terry. He saw the hurt nestled deep into his son’s eyes. Terry felt so helpless to his feelings. He wanted so much to be like his father in that moment — a strong man with a hardened heart. Someone who could handle all the suffering that life had to offer.

Derek put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “We’re Fine men,” his voice was the softest it’s ever been. “But we’re not always going to be fine.”

Terry felt himself being pulled into his father’s chest. Time seemed to stop. Terry cried hard into his dad’s favorite shirt.

---

Terry is numb the whole drive home.

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He finds himself replaying the day over and over, torturing himself with every memory. How could he live with himself knowing what he was doing to his mother? And his father, how could he possibly make a decision?

All he wants now is to go home and find relief at the bottom of a bottle. He had sworn off alcohol after the doctors determined that it was the main cause of his father’s stroke, but he couldn’t see any way out of the mess he had gotten himself in.

Then, all of his thoughts came to a grinding halt. As he pulls onto his street, he sees his mother’s car in his driveway. He pulls in next to her in disbelief. She looks over at him as he parks.

Terry can’t bring himself to get out of the car. To leave the safety of his vehicle would be to confront one of his biggest fears since the stroke — his resentment for his mother. He didn’t want to admit that he had spent so many nights hating what his mom had done to their family, and blaming her for everything that he could justify in the slightest.

Before he could think about how to handle this, his mother gets out of the car. She quickly walks to Terry’s car and opens the door.

“We need to talk.”

Sylvia sits across from her son in his living room. Terry hadn’t done much with the place since Maria left. His ex-wife had taken any reminders of her from their home. All the scented candles, the dramatic wall art, the cozy blankets, the plush pillows. All the warmth had been purged from the house and Terry’s mother could feel it. All that is left is empty beer cans and a half-eaten box of take-out.

“You didn’t tell me it was getting this bad, Terry.” She surveyed his room again to make sure what she was seeing was real. “I could’ve helped you.”

Terry says nothing. His mother glares into him, growing more frustrated by every second he is silent. After a couple moments, it seemed as if she were going to burst.

“You can’t keep doing this to me!” This is the first time Sylvia had raised her voice since before the stroke. “If you hate me, if you need to yell, I don’t care Terry, I need something,” Her voice cracked at the end, and water filled her eyes. “You’re all I have left.”

This strikes a chord in Terry. It hadn’t occurred to him that his mother was alone in this too. Growing up, they had always had each other, but since his parents split up everyone had been on their own. A twinge hits Terry deep in his chest, the kind that makes you rethink your whole perspective.

“I don’t know what to do mom,” all the anger he had built up over the months started to well up in his throat. “I feel like everything keeps fucking up, and it’s all my fault.”

Every word hit her like a bus. Her son had been torturing himself all this time. Under the veil of blaming his mother, he was actually blaming himself.

“None of this is your fault honey.” She hesitates to say what she needs to, because she knows it’s not something anyone wants to hear. “It’s no one’s fault. Sometimes things just happen.”

“But I lost Maria, and then we lost Dad,” The words stung as he said them. “Then I lost you.”

Sylvia struggles with how to respond. Terry could tell that she regretted how everything happened, especially now that she is seeing how it affected her son. In that moment, he chooses to forgive his mother.

“I wish I had handled things with your father differently.” Solemnly, she glances over at the framed pictures of Terry with his father sitting above the fireplace.

---

This was the first Thanksgiving that Terry was going to his parents’ house without Maria. It had been a few months since she left, and he was still in the process of learning how to live without her. While it was difficult, it was easier to handle the emptiness when he was with his family.

He impatiently knocked on the door as he always did Thanksgiving morning, anxious to smell his mother’s home-cooked goodness. Moments passed and no one came to the door. Terry listens for his mother in the kitchen and can faintly hear the sink running. He knocked again, confused.

Still nothing. He decided to walk in, thinking that maybe his mother didn’t hear him.

Terry strolls in, for a few seconds feeling like a stranger in the home he grew up in. The air was dense and heavy. Something about it made Terry feel like he was gliding on thin ice. He slowly made his way to the kitchen, eventually finding his mother. Or at least it was a being that looked like her. She was mindlessly rubbing the turkey with a blur of seasoning. Her eyes had so little life in them that he almost didn’t recognize her.

“Mom?”

In an instant, his mother had sprung back to life. “Terry, you’re here.” Her voice was low, monotone. “I’m a little late with food today.”

Terry stood across from her, not sure how to respond. The turkey was always done first, and everything else was done by noon. It was 11:39 and his mother had barely started any of the food.

“What’s going on?” That’s all Terry could think to say. Everything was so dramatically off, it felt like a dream.

Sylvia’s expression became a mixture of anger and melancholy. It was obvious she was restraining herself.

“Ask—” For a split second, she almost choked on her own words. “Ask your father.”

Terry wondered what could possibly cause his mother to act this way. Never in his life had he seen her so distraught. Curious and mostly concerned, Terry walked over to his dad’s office. The door was closed, which struck him as odd. His father always joked that he had an open-door policy in his house. Now, Terry could hear the Thanksgiving football game blaring from inside the office.

He knocked hard so that he could be heard over the television.

No response.

Slowly, he turns the knob and opens the door. He is immediately attacked by the pungent smell of alcohol. It's as if his dad had brewed it here himself — the stench was so concentrated that it weighed down the room.

Terry entered into the space with an unshakeable sense that something was horribly wrong. He half-expected to find him dead. When Terry finally spotted his father, he had a split second where he thought he was right. It looked like his father was in a daze.

Suddenly, Derek turned his head to face his son. “T-Terry...son.” He slurred his words, something unfamiliar to Terry.

His dad never got drunk like this in front of him. He'd have a few beers with his friends every now and then, or maybe he'd drink wine when they had guests over. Never did he let himself get drunk enough to where he couldn't handle his liquor.

“Dad, what's happening,” some panic started to bombard Terry. “Mom is really upset--”

“Of course...she is.” Derek spoke slow and it sounded like each word was a challenge. “She has a failure for a husband.”

Confused, Terry sits down on the couch next to his father. “What do you mean?”

“Your dad screwed up.” He struggled to maintain eye contact with Terry.

“It can’t be that bad, dad.” Terry had no confidence in that response. He’d never seen his parents like this, and they had been through a lot together. He knew deep down that whatever happened must have been devastating.

“Everything’s gone. I lost it all.”

“Lost what?”

“The...business. I had to declare bankruptcy.”

Terry could swear the room went cold. His father had owned that business since before he was born. Terry rode office chairs through the company halls all throughout his youth, worked there every summer in high school, he even met Maria there. That place was Terry’s second home.

“How long have you known?” That was all Terry could say. He was quickly realizing what all of this meant.

“Too long. I kept thinking I could get out of this mess I made...” His dad took another sip of the beer he’d been nursing. “Your mom found the bankruptcy notice yesterday.”

Terry sat there as his father broke. There was this sense of loss that he had never witnessed on another person before. He remained speechless, unsure of how to handle someone’s world crashing down around them.

“I have to talk to mom.”

“Did he tell you?” Sylvia didn’t acknowledge him with eye contact. She continued cooking.

Terry sits at the dinner table, defeated. “Yeah. What are you guys going to do?”

“I don’t know, Terry.” It felt like she was on autopilot. Her responses were robotic. “He had been drinking so much lately, and been so distant. I would try and talk to him, but you know how he is. Now it all makes sense.”

“I need you guys to be okay,” Terry found himself a slave to his sadness. “You guys are my rocks.”

With so little energy and feeling, Sylvia responded. “I’m sorry.”

He was dumbstruck. The last beacon of hope in his life had crumbled.

---

The blunt coldness of the facility hits Terry differently today. He walks the halls of empty white with his mother and felt something he couldn’t quite define yet. All he understands is that his steps aren’t heavy and reluctant now. Every movement has a purpose.

As they near his father’s room, he realizes that they never went over what they were going to say. By the time he could think about it, he and his mother are in his father’s doorway. He is watching TV in bed.

Terry peers over at his mother, watching her tense up at the sight of him. She looks to her son for reassurance.

He nods.

“Hey dad, look who I brought!” For the first time in a year, Terry felt like it was okay to smile. He walks with his mother to his father’s bedside, confident.

Derek’s eyes follow Sylvia across the room. “Sylvia…”

It’s silent for a few moments. Terry witnesses something between his parents that he can’t comprehend. At first, it seemed like a tense quiet, but now it’s turned into something more complex. In his father’s eyes, he sees his mother bring twinkles to his pupils. In his mother’s, he sees how the twinkles reflect back into her eyes. Like finding the missing puzzle piece, they had completed each other.

To Terry’s surprise, it’s his mother who reaches out for his father’s hand. Derek takes it, in awe of her.

“I’m sorry Derek.” Tears welled up in his mother’s eyes. “I’m here now.”

---