Somewhere Over Lorain Road by Bud Gundy

Author:Bud Gundy [Gundy, Bud]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781635551259
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2018-01-17T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Don woke to the scratchy, grumbling sighs coming from the baby monitor. He checked his phone in the dark. It was only four thirty.

He jumped up and flipped on Dad’s light. His father sat on the edge of the bed, clenching the mattress. He looked confused, until he saw Don and his expression softened with relief.

“Do you need to use the commode, Dad?”

“Yeah.” He held up his arm, and Don stooped to let him grab his shoulder. Don encircled his waist and nearly lifted him from the ground. He was losing weight.

After Don returned him to bed, his dad closed his eyes and asked weakly, “Donnie, do you think I have much longer?”

“I don’t know, Dad. Everyone says cancer is up and down. You look down right now, but that doesn’t mean you won’t come back up for a while.”

“I’d like to make it through the holidays. See another year come in. It’ll be my last, but I’ll take one more New Year’s Eve.”

“I’d like that, too.”

His dad took a deep breath. “But it’s a bitch getting to the holidays, Donnie. You know what I’m talking about?”

“Sure I do, Dad.” December fifth dawned every year, and all he could do was make it through the day, get into bed that night and stare at the ceiling for a while.

Dad said, “We used to go to the cemetery every December fifth, remember?”

“Of course. We went just last week. Me and Tim and Randy. Obviously, it wasn’t the anniversary. We just wanted to say hi.”

“You did?” He sounded pleased. “You’ve never forgotten him?”

“No, Dad. I’ll never forget Rich.”

Dad opened his eyes. They were wet. “Rich was a good guy. He made some bad choices. Course, we all know why, poor kid.” Despair froze his face and thawed gently. “He would have turned out to be a good man if he’d had the chance.”

“I know.”

Over the years, Don pondered his last private conversation with Rich, held in this very room the morning his brother left for treatment and never returned. Don wrapped the memory in the delicate silk of the most sacred remembrances, opened reverently at rare moments of reflection and solitude, too fragile to share with anyone, ever. The center of the memory in particular remained hushed, hidden, words that Rich spoke of such singular value he didn’t appreciate their worth for many years.

“Dad, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Do you remember if I ever laughed when I was little? I mean, when I was really little?”

Dad scrunched his mouth, considering. “You were serious as hell. When you were five, you already acted like the oldest brother. Your mother and I talked about it. We figured it meant you had above-average intelligence, but we had no idea yet.”

“But can you think of a time when I laughed?”

“What do you mean? What time?” Dad looked baffled.

“Any time. Just one time when I was a kid. A little kid. Can you remember me laughing? Even just once?” The rapidity of his questions clearly unnerved his dad.

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