He’d never seen Yvonne during her chemo days. He’d been living in California, and she was across the country. Yvonne’s second husband was a good man, her rock, and he’d been there for her in ways that Gabriel hadn’t been during their marriage. Gabriel hadn’t seen the hair loss, the weight loss, and the vomiting. But he and Yvonne had talked on the phone all throughout the treatments, at least once a week, and he distinctly remembered that her wonderful laugh had never changed, never faltered. The braveness she’d possessed in those final days was inspirational. “I know.”
“I wasn’t reminding you,” Melanie retorted. “I’m just wondering if you’ve ever realized that there’s a point where too many years have gone by to brush things under the rug.”
“It’s not my fault that—”
“Don’t pretend that I’m ignorant.” Melanie clutched onto her purse strap so tightly that her knuckles reddened. “I know all the stories. You were the irresponsible one. You were the one who messed up and put booze before family.”
He stretched out a hand. “Melanie…”
She stepped back. “It’s okay. Really. I’ve come to terms with it. But don’t you dare act like you can fix things with a simple apology. It’s too late.”
Gabriel didn’t cry but only because nothing she said was new to him. He’d beat himself up with the same statements a million times.
“I’m sorry.” Melanie sighed. “Listen, I have to—oh. Hi there, Natty.”
Natty Bruckheimer, Gabriel’s least favorite LNA, normally worked the night shift, but evidently, she’d picked up some earlier hours that day. A series of junior high photos on her phone, which she frequently showed to anyone who dared mention a weight-loss program, proved that while Natty had once possessed an average big-boned figure, the last few decades had caused her to become so overweight that the floor shook when she walked, and the folds in her elephantine legs were visible through her skin-tight white scrubs. She blamed diabetes. Natty was in her late forties, but she was the sort of woman who, after getting pregnant in high school—and having two kids, if Gabriel recalled correctly—was forever chasing after her lost youth. She had a blond buzz cut, a fake tan, multiple neck tattoos, and a face like a rodent, complete with beady eyes and prominent front teeth.
“Hi, Melanie!” Natty clapped Gabriel’s daughter on the back, pretending that the two were friends.
“So how’s my dad doing?” Melanie whispered. “Is he doing okay with the, you know, with the new medications?”
They didn’t look at him, didn’t talk to him, didn’t even acknowledge that he was there. Somehow, they’d convinced themselves that if they lowered their voices to a certain tone, he couldn’t hear their whispers.
“Oh yeah, Gabe’s been good,” Natty answered. “Those new meds are working wonders for the guy.”
“So there haven’t been any new behavioral problems?” Melanie asked.
“Oh no, don’t worry! The Seroquel has been a big help.”
“Has it?” Melanie asked, glancing over at him.
“Oh yeah! Gabe’s much happier these days.” Natty reached out, took off Gabriel’s fedora, and rubbed the back of his head, messing up his hair.
Gabriel clenched his teeth. Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm…
“Ain’t that right, Gabe?” Natty giggled. “You’re doing real good today, aren’t you, honey?”
That was the last straw. “Gabriel,” he whispered venomously.
“What was that, honey?”
“I’m not Gabe. Not honey. My name is Gabriel. Gabriel Schist.”
“Sweetie-pie, you really need to speak up,” Natty said. “We can’t hear you when you mumble! You know you—”
“Gabriel! My name is Gabriel Schist, and I’m not a goddamned child! You hear me now? You hear that? You—”
“Dad… stop. Please.”
Gabriel threw his fedora to the ground. Melanie looked startled. Natty stepped back, her eyes rapidly passing back and forth between father and daughter. The thin, bug-eyed man peered at them across the chess board.
Gabriel started to speak and then stopped. He couldn’t find the words. His stomach was twisting in knots. He went over to Melanie and collapsed in her arms. She hugged him tightly. He felt her heart beating, a heart he had set to motion, a heart that now existed independently of him. A heart that would continue to beat long after his became dust.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I know… I know the Alzheimer’s makes it difficult. Difficult to know what you’re saying and all that. It’s not your fault.”
Marvelous. Rub some salt in the wound, Melanie. Thank you.
“I love you, Dad.” Melanie stiffened. “But I gotta go. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
Soon. Would it be another month? Two, perhaps? Three? Longer? “I love you too,” he replied stiffly.
Melanie kissed him on the cheek and walked to the front of the lobby, right to the front door of the building. The portal to reality. She wiped away her tears and punched in the code. The door swung open, releasing her from the barricaded confines of the facility. Gabriel watched morosely as she returned to her normal, fatherless life. Within moments, it was as if she’d never visited.
Natty shrugged and shuffled toward the break room. The thin man returned to his chess game. Gabriel put on his fedora, buttoned up his trench coat, and sat down next to the fishes again. He stared forward, his eyes fixed on a pair of brown-grey slugs crawling up the outside surface of the glass. More slugs? The damn things were everywhere.
He refocused his attention on the fish. They swam in circles in the tiny amount of space. Did they have children on the outside, in the ocean? Fathers? Mothers? Were they alone, too?
Somewhere in the distance, the Crooner’s never-ending singsong echoed through the halls. Looking to his side, Gabriel noticed that Edna Foster had rolled her wheelchair up next to him. Her sons were gone, too. Together, they were childless parents of parentless children.
“Hi,” Edna said.
“Hi.”
“Oh, look at ’em go. I come and see ’em every day. They’re my friends. I think they must sleep, don’t you?”
“They do.” Gabriel smiled. “But they don’t have eyelids, so it’s difficult to tell. Many fish still swim while they’re asleep.”
