Chapter 8

With plans for the move underway, Sean took a break to focus on the main reason Kelvin had asked him to come to Grand Rapids—his papers. “Let’s see what’s in box number two,” he said, joining his father in the living room, where he set the box on the couch.

Kelvin, already in his favorite chair, turned down the volume on the baseball game. “Go for it.”

Sean removed the lid and discovered a box of cards and letters. Raising his eyebrows, he asked, “Who did all this? I don’t remember you being a big letter writer.”

“I wasn’t until I met Loretta. She lived here in Michigan. We used to write back and forth.”

“So these are love letters?” A tickle of resentment itched under Sean’s skin, but he refused to scratch it. Holding onto that negativity required work, and he’d rather spend his energy on positive things, such as making his father comfortable and his feelings for Chelly.

“After I moved here, I didn’t know nobody. Got bored one day and started writing home. I wrote you, too. But, like I said, your mama sent them back.”

Sean sifted through to find the ones addressed to him. He came up with twelve, but there could be more he’d overlooked. He inspected the envelopes. “How come some of them are opened if she sent them back?”

“ ’Cuz I’d put money in some. A buck or two. When they came back, I got my money out. Go ’head. Read them. I’m going to lay down.”

Sean looked up, eyes wide with surprise. Kelvin hadn’t gone to bed in the middle of the day before; he preferred to nap in his chair. Looking closely, Sean saw barely veiled discomfort in his father’s eyes. He put the letters aside to help Kelvin stand up. Another first.

Sean silently replayed the conversation he’d had with Kelvin’s doctor.

“Mr. Price, the cancer has metastasized. It’s in both lungs, the chest wall, in his lymph nodes, and in his liver.”

“So…”

“How long? Three to six months, optimistically, and that depends on how big of a fight he wants to wage.”

Even though Sean had been ready for this conversation, his prepared notes weren’t enough to get the words out right away. As he’d struggled to formulate the questions, the doctor filled in with information.

“Of course, we’re guessing based on statistics. Your father could live another year or pass away sooner than three months. We just don’t know.”

“I see. What about a nurse for him? Some home care?”

“Kelvin can have a home nurse that Medicaid will pay for. Or, you can hire a private nurse. At the end, hospice is available. There are options, but many patients think asking for help means they’ve given up, so they resist as long as they can. I think your father is in that camp.”

“Well, I’m here. I’m staying with him now to help out, but I…it’s a huge responsibility.”

“That’s true. Too big for one person. We have a cancer support group for families going through what you’re facing, and a nurse or health aide can make visits and help you with what you need to know. Mr. Price, forgive me. I have to go. I answer informational calls on Thursdays between three and five, so call me then. Where shall I fax the prescription for the bed?”

Sean gripped his father’s arm as they ambled toward the bedroom. “You’re going to miss the game,” he said as if that would force Kelvin to rally. “You want to lie down on the couch?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Want me to bring the TV to your room?”

Kelvin shook his head. “Nah. Leave it. I like having a reason…” He ran out of air mid-sentence like he often did. Sean breathed every breath with him. “A reason to get out of bed.”

Good. That resistance meant Kelvin was fighting. The way he’d gotten his paperwork in order and made funeral plans had Sean thinking Kelvin wanted his death to come quickly. Sean didn’t want Kelvin to go yet, please God. He’d just started to know him.

He helped Kelvin to his room, fluffed the pillows, and waited while Kelvin turned around and backed up to the bed.

Maybe he could take care of his father in the days to come. It would be emotionally draining more than anything else, but after he was taught what to do, he could manage. With his mom, there had been the awkwardness of not being the same gender. If Kelvin’s pride didn’t preclude Sean taking care of his personal needs, he’d do it. Sean patted Kelvin’s shoulder as he left him to rest. “I’ll be right outside, Pop, if you need anything.”

Back on the couch, Sean sighed, took the twelve letters and put them in order by postmark date. He selected the most recent one, reading it once, deciphering the words despite the misspellings. The second time he read it, everything was spelled perfectly in his mind’s eye.

May 16

Dear Sean,

A high school diploma is nothing to sneeze at. You were always a good student, so I’m figuring you are right on track and will walk across that stage in June. Do you know what you want to do yet? I’m doing carpentry work. I’m what they call an independent contractor.

You could try the union if you are thinking about a trade. It’s not easy to get into. Matter of fact, it’s damn hard, but, if you get the hook-up, the money is good.

If college is what you want, I got some land I could sell. Should be enough for college and my retirement one day.

Here’s fifty bucks.

Your dad

P.S.: Write me back.

Sean replaced the letter in the envelope, his heart thumping wildly. The room swam as his eyes filled with tears. His father’s sentiment touched him. It wasn’t anything extraordinary—just normal concern any father should have for his child, but this was the first real proof Sean had of his father’s feelings for him after he’d left home.

Sean had lived twenty years feeling unloved and abandoned by his father, and what was worse, his mother had allowed that misconception to exist by not giving him the letters. “Damnit!” He shoved the coffee table halfway across the room with his foot. How could his mother had been so selfish? If she didn’t want anything to do with his father, that was fine, but why keep him away from his son?

Grateful the noise of the sliding table didn’t elicit a reaction from Kelvin, Sean paced. His thoughts drifted to his three years at junior college, then to his six and a half years at Johnson and Wales University. It had taken him almost ten years to work his way through school going part-time, and he still had a $37,000 loan balance. If this land paid off big, he’d be debt free.

If he were debt free, then he’d open his own restaurant. But, this was where he cut the reverie short. No sense putting the dream before the capital needed to make it happen.

* * *

Kelvin awoke at seven in the evening demanding a baseball report.

Sean delivered it leaning on the bedroom doorjamb. “Yankees won, seven to two. What do you want for dinner?”

“Nothing. I’m not hungry.”

“Not even some soup?”

“Uh-uh.”

Sean shifted, putting his hands in his pockets. “Are you hurting?”

“Got a pain in my right side.”

That was his liver. “How bad?”

“Bad enough to kill me,” Kelvin answered with deadpan humor.

Sean registered Kelvin’s grouchiness. Pain would do that to anybody. He moved to the nightstand and searched through numerous prescriptions, finally holding up a bottle. “Did you take this?”

“The morphine? Yeah.”

“Then maybe it’s time to take it again. What’s the point in suffering if you don’t have to?”

“What’s the point in sleeping all day and night?”

Sean held onto the bottle for a second longer, but couldn’t think of an argument. He returned it to its place in the ranks. “Well, you’re awake now. Come on out. We’ll play some dominoes.”

“Give me a minute.”

Sean left, closing the door. He took the letterbox to his room, then got one of the empty boxes Chelly had brought and started packing up the kitchen. His cell phone rang while he was throwing away food that had stayed way past its shelf life. He answered. “Hello.”

“Sean?”

“Yeah, Larry. It’s me. Did you get a chance to look at that deed I faxed?”

“I’m holding it right now. If everything goes right, you’re looking at a market value of about $5 million.”

“What did you say?” The peanut butter that had expired last year could wait. “Larry, man, are you sure? I mean, don’t get my hopes up if this isn’t real.”

“After we do a title search, I’ll have it checked out to make sure it’s perked.”

Sean turned to see Kelvin slowly making his way through the hall to his favorite chair. He walked over to him to help, but Kelvin waved him off.

“Make sure it’s what?” Sean asked, continuing his phone conversation, but keeping his eye on Kelvin.

“Make sure it’s accessible to water, gas lines, and other utilities. But I’m telling you, Sean, the location is ripe for development. Get that investment portfolio together, buddy,” Larry said. “If you work this right, you can make some dreams come true, my friend.”

“How long before we know for sure?”

“I’ll update you within the week.”

Kelvin winced, wilting into his recliner. Sean clipped his phone back to his waist, his smile long gone. At that moment, watching his father suffer, all the money in the world seemed inconsequential.

“Was that your job?” Kelvin asked.

“Actually, I decided to quit a couple of days ago.” Sean got the dominoes from the bottom shelf of the TV stand.

“What did you do that for?”

“I’m staying here.”

“Why not take a leave of absence?”

“I never planned to stay there long. It was just something along the way. It’s not as big a deal as I made out it was.”

Kelvin grunted. “Had my share of jobs like that. Thank you. I want you to know I’m grateful for what you’re doing…what you’re doing for me.”

“Don’t mention it, Pop.”

* * *

Chelly pulled her front door open for Sean, but shielded her eyes against the light of day by squinting up at him.

“Morning. Is it too early?”

“It’s six. That’s too early for most things that require conversation.”

“It’s Sunday. We were going to move today.”

“Oh, yeah.” She tied her robe over her pajamas and rubbed sleep from her eyes. “I had a bad night. Did you hear about that accident on 131?”

He stepped inside her apartment. “Yeah, two people died, but that was two days ago. Were you involved in that?” When he flipped on the kitchen light switch, Chelly saw his concern.

Two days ago? She’d slept through a day? Sean’s worried expression took on another wrinkle and Chelly realized he was waiting on her answer. “Uh, no, not directly, but those people had been at the fund-raiser I attended. I heard it on the TV news the same way I heard about the airplane crash. This horrible déjà vu thing gripped me and wouldn’t let me go—kept resurfacing.”

He reached for her, but she put her hands up to stop him. “Hey. You shouldn’t get into the habit of hugging me every time I grieve for them. That could become a full-time job.”

He looked at her as if he wanted to say something, but nodded ever so slightly instead. “Where’s your box?”

“I gave you all the boxes I had.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Kelvin has six boxes of memories. Where’s yours?”

Her chin trembled. She ran her fingers through her disheveled hair, then tied her robe a second time. “I have it.” Do most people have memory boxes? She had no frame of reference for what was normal anymore.

“If you want to show me, I’m here for you.”

She took him in with a measured glance from head to toe, hoping to discern his motive for asking. “Why?”

“Because it’s important to you.”

Their gazes held for the length of her slow nod and then she looked down and folded her arms before looking up at him again. “I keep it put away. It’s private.”

Sean’s palms turned up in a “that’s fine” gesture. “Your call. I wouldn’t dream of prying.”

She put the breakfast counter between them, needing to keep the right amount of emotional distance. After people knew about the crash, they felt obligated to come after her on the other side of that abyss. They wanted to bring her back to wherever they supposed normal was. Is this what Sean wanted, too? Or could he respect she was where she needed to be? She earned a living and tapped into her creative and sexual energy in ways that suited her. Why must they demand more from her than this? To his credit, Jaden never had, and neither had Maya. Maya. Why hadn’t Maya come to comfort her the past two days?

“Chelly, you don’t look well. I could borrow your truck. Don’t come if you’re not up to it.”

“What?” Chelly held her hands prayerfully against her lips, determined to keep it together. She lowered her hands to her chest, feeling her heart racing a mile a minute. “No, I want to go. I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”

“How about I whip us up a quick breakfast while I wait.”

She forced a smile, but then relaxed into it, focusing on Sean’s handsome face, which was illuminated by the marigold sweatshirt he wore. He was a nice man, and she was glad he was here. That much, she was sure about. “No, don’t do that. I know you already had breakfast, because, even with the nightmares I have, when I dream of pigs, there better be a reason.”

They shared a laugh.

“Can we make coffee over there?” Chelly asked.

“Yes, we can do that. I’ll start loading the truck.”

She got the keys from her purse, handed them to him as she trailed him to the door. In her bedroom, she checked her phone messages. There was one from her mother, and one from Jaden asking her to pick up if she was there. She’d return both calls later.

Chelly showered in ten minutes and, because jeans and a blouse were easy pickings, she dressed in nine. A flick of mascara with a shaky hand, a swipe of blush, and a stroke of cherry cola lipstick left her presentable in record time. If she kept busy, she wouldn’t have to wonder why Maya hadn’t come, even though she’d always come whenever she was stressed. Maya must have let her sleep because she needed the rest, but she’d be back. That was the only acceptable explanation. Maya had to come back.

She brushed and fluffed her short hair, thinking it was time for a trim—thinking about anything else except Maya. Chelly put in silver hoop earrings, grabbed her jean jacket and joined Sean at the truck.

The truck bed held several boxes, the kitchen table, and three chairs. “There’s still space. What are you doing about his living room furniture?” Chelly asked.

“I’m getting rid of nearly everything except the recliner, but he’s attached to it, literally—he’s sitting in it now. I’ll move that last.”