My mother was screaming at me in Spanish. Even holding my phone away from my ear, I could hear her as clear as day and it was getting fucking annoying. I was tempted to simply hang up on her. However, I knew she had a smart phone of her own and would likely call back over and over, until my battery died (and then she would proceed to fill my voice mail inbox with further anger, guilt and hate.) I didn't even speak Spanish. (I could hold a polite conversation or order a meal, but the rest was gibberish. And my mother knew that.) All I wanted was answers, but I'd settle for a break in the yelling. "You finished now, Mama?"
She took a breath, calming herself enough to switch to English. "No, I'm not finished. I am very upset and disappointed in you!"
"I'm twenty-three, you don't get to pull that crap on me anymore."
"Oh, you act so brave all the way in Montana."
"South Dakota."
"Whatever! you're still my child, my little boy. I raised you as a single parent, I gave up everything for you."
"You gave up being a dancer."
My mother cleared her throat, forcing back her anger. "What else has your father been telling you?"
"You were the one who started the divorce proceedings, with the goal of cutting him out of our lives."
"Well, at least he's not a liar."
"Really, Mom? And what did he do to deserve that?"
"He cheated on me with a man! Several actually. I don't know the exact number."
"When?"
"What do you mean, when?
"When did it start? When did you catch him?" I asked like a police officer, questioning the truth of her story.
"I don't want to discuss this, not with you!"
"Why not?"
"Because you're my son. I raised you to be a God-fearing young man, who could live a life free of sin."
The fact that she brought up the s-word, caused me to double over with laughter. "You can't be serious."
My mother muttered in Spanish, shouting and cursing before switching back to English to secure my eternal damnation. "That bastard has you brainwashed, doesn't he? I always knew this would happen! Watch your ass; you're just his type, he always goes for the younger ones. that's how he lost his first major job. Did he tell you that?"
She didn't wait for a response before sharing her version of the events. "It was a Michelin star restaurant, a wonderful opportunity with great potential. And he fucked the headwaiter!"
There was an awkward moment of silence.
"Yes, Jeffery, ask your saintly father about that!" My mother then hung up on me.
Leo approached, patting me on the back. "Wow, it went that well, huh?"
"She doesn't have the right to be upset at me." I said as I hurled my phone across the room. thankfully it landed on carpet, so I didn't have to do the walk of shame to pick it up. "She's the one who filled my head with lies! She just assumed I'd believe her; I'd take her side, like a loyal dog, for the rest of my life."
"Or her life," Leo said with a chuckle. "Unless you believe that angry Hispanic mothers can beat your ass from beyond the grave."
My father entered the kitchen navigating with the use of his cane. "Who are we talking about?"
"Nothing much," Leo muttered, "Just Jeff's total bitch of a mother."
"Don't talk like that," my dad said with a sarcastic laugh. He reached for a chair making himself comfortable in his open robe. "No woman is a bitch. Although some of them are evil cunts, like my ex-wife."
All I could do was sigh. "So, where's Tomas? Is he still in bed?"
"You're asking the blind man?" my dad held out his hand, and like magic, Leo placed a cup of coffee in his grasp. "Thank you kindly, Sir."
"I prefer private," Leo said with a giggle. He stroked a finger to Richard's cheek, tracing along his jaw.
Before my father could offer a cheeky 'dad-joke' comeback, I caught sight of the nurse returning from a morning walk. "Tomas!"
"Good morning, Jeff." He raised his chin to say hello since his hands were full of coffee and doughnuts.
"Can we talk?"
"Certainly, what do you wish to discuss?" Tomas handed Leo the tray of hot drinks before putting the doughnuts on the table. "Just allow me a second to check on my patient." He took a seat beside Richard, carefully gripping my father's wrist. "Your pulse seems to be stabilized." Tomas rested his thumb in my father's palm, as if to gently massage his hand. Any more panic attacks?"
"Not sense last night. The pain's been pretty manageable." My father placed his hand to his chest, rubbing his collarbone, down his sternum.
I was more than a little concerned. "You had a panic attack?"
Richard's hand trembled slightly as he took a sip of his drink. "Just some chest pain, nothing a little portable oxygen couldn't fix."
Tomas gave Richard's free hand a comforting squeeze. "Are you sure you don't need any morphine?"
"I'm good, Tommy. I promise."
"You tell me if you need anything. And if I'm not here, tell Leo, ok?" Tomas stood up. "So, Jeff are you ready to go on a lovely walk?"
"Yeah," I said with a forced smile. I wanted to ask about his academic grant but now I also wanted to know what happened after I put my father to bed in the main room.
Tomas started walking, his stride wider and stronger then my own. He was like one of those Olympic power walkers; people who might as well be running.
"You're here on a grant? Are you doing a research paper on my," I paused as I jogged to catch up with Tomas, "Richard Blake?"
"I can certainly talk to you about that." Tomas crossed his arms, somehow increasing his pace while still at a walking tempo.
"What's your problem?"
"You can't call him your father?"
"Excuse me?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. He had to be joking. "I thought we were holding off on that, for the sake of his mental state?"
"I never said you couldn't tell him." Tomas started to cross the two-lane highway towards the gas station. "Richard might not remember you; he might be confused or even afraid, but you have a limited amount of time."
I sprinted to catch up, narrowly avoiding an oncoming car. "What exactly happened last night?" I knew that question held all the answers.
Tomas sighed, still unwilling to face me. "Your father suffered what I can only describe as an 'incident.' It was something akin to a PTSD induced panic attack, with asthma, and a full body seizure. I was thankfully able to sedate him, using the IV-line drugs I had on hand." Tomas stopped by the entrance to the parking lot, catching his breath.
As I approached, I could see the strong nurse wasn't tired, he was trying his best not to cry. "Tomas?"
"The pain your father is currently struggling with, goes deeper than his physical body."
"What do you mean?"
"The cancer is everywhere. His lungs are filling with tumors which causes stress on his heart and then the lack of air causes him to seize. He is sicker than any patient I've ever seen."
"And yet he's not dead." From a medical standpoint, my father had no reason to get out of bed. Logically, he should've been wheelchair bound, with a feeding tube (certainly not walking on his own.) Somehow his spirit wanted to stay, to experience coffee, doughnuts and lots of sex. Yeah, that had to be it; he was staying alive for the gifts of physical pleasure.
Tomas shook his head, blinking away a single tear. "Richard Blake cries out for his son. His heart is so broken. I have reason to believe, in his last moments, Richard's final thoughts will be of the child he lost."
"Is that the subject of your academic study? Did you know I was coming to South Dakota?" That was a stupid question: he did. I had located my father through my university contacts (many of whom had VA medical positions.) They all knew my story. one of them must have mentioned something to someone and somehow Tomas found out about my fucked-up reunion fantasy.
"Yup." Tomas replied, as if it was the most obvious answer. "It was always my intention to study the psychological effects of estrangement." He took a few calming breaths, before heading inside.
I followed him into the store where he purchased a bottle of wine, a bag of gummy bears and a spray can of whipped cream. I expected him to continue his explanation but instead he opened the bag of candy, as we walked across the parking lot, heading back to the main road. "Gummy bear?"
"No thanks," I replied, a little more than annoyed. "How did you find out about my father's case?"
"Does it matter? The past is gone forever, and the future is yet to be written. All we have is today."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"You have many questions," he said, walking in the direction of the garden. "I implore you to act with bravery and courage."
"Ok." The moment we approached the fence that surrounded Leo's property, Tomas started to undress. He began to unbutton his shirt, while still eating candy and holding the grocery bag. I assumed he was compensating for the heat, but once we entered the yard, I was made aware of his full intentions.
