“On my way home! Need anything?” I texted dad.
“I have a script ready at Albertsons but I need to go up there after you get home” he texted back.
“Can do!” I sent and pulled out of the parking lot. I listened to the Accidental Tech boys argue about storage media as I drove through the traffic of southeast Portland. Surface streets only. No freeways or highways for me. The days were getting cooler, sunset is coming sooner and sooner in the day. Fall had definitely fallen. I was tired but not sleepy, just wanted to go home and chill but still felt a duty to help dad out.
The ATP boys were particularly argumentative and it was very entertaining, if a bit stressful. Listening to them was sort of like cringe comedy sometimes except they’re mock-angry with each other. And anger is often hilarious. I used to say that all the time in the past.
I normally back in to my reserved parking spot but because I knew I was going to be leaving again soon, and because parking in front-first put the passenger door closer to the sidewalk, making it easier for dad, I parked normally.
“You’re home!” he said from the couch when I walked in. The couch faced at a right angle to the front door, and with the pin in his neck, he could not turn his head to see me. He was wearing his coat and hat, and it was kind of chilly in the apartment, so I turned up the heat a little. I chatted with him about work as he stood up and walked toward the door with me.
Night was definitely on the way as I drove him to the Albertsons. We were in the Magic Hour, just before sunset, and the colors were muted but beautiful. The sky had some clouds but mostly shone with a dark pale blue color.
“Any word on the house?” I asked him. He’s staying with me while his apartment is being remediated for asbestos and water damage.
“Lisa (my sister) said that they had the sheetrock up and were painting it. Probably be done by…” he paused. “Probably be done by, uh, her birthday. Middle of November.”
A car cut me off to cross two lanes. “The squirrels are out tonight, dad.” My turn to pause. “I’m going to miss having you around.”
Dad was quiet.
As I drove in to the parking lot, I asked dad if we needed anything from the store and he said I could shop around while he was waiting at the pharmacy counter.
I snapped a picture of the Albertsons sign, the beige stucco facade and the lit-up blue and white sign against the fading blue sky, with amber parking lot lights… it was pretty. I was glad I’d captured the scene.
Dad looked thin and tired, hunched over as we walked through the parking lot to the store. He went off to the back corner and I took a spin through the aisle. The bread I like was on sale, buy one get one free, so I had two loaves in hand when I caught up with him. “We can put one in the freezer,” I explained, and he grunted assent.
Meds obtained, we went though the checkout counter. No bad needed, miss. Dad wanted to get some cigarettes but the counter where they kept them had a line of people waiting and no checker behind. A lady asked a security guard if anyone was working the counter and the security guard didn’t know, politely. Dad decided he had enough smokes for tonight and he’d take the bus to the 7-11 tomorrow. We headed back out into the twilight.
I got to the car ahead of dad, unlocked the doors, and sat behind the wheel. The light outside was dying but beautifully. I sent the picture I took to Tracy, just to share. Dad got in, buckled up.
“This is the kind of light Spielberg likes to film in,” I said. Dad smiled, nodded.
I’m glad I have been here to help him out. I am going to miss him when he is not around.
Do you ever, suddenly, without warning, get the sads? Yeah. Me, too. Strange how swiftly it happens.