New Memoir Chapter: "Visions" (part one)

Hey all, I know it's been a while since my last post, but it's been quite busy (more details tomorrow). I'm wrapping up a long weekend in Cinci to visit Jon, who's been away on business since 4/3 and will return on 5/20. I'm a bit reluctant to go home, but the girls need me (and I do miss them--a little ;), the in-laws need to get back home and Jon and I need to get back at work... So, while I was gone and Jon had to work, I managed to bang part of another memoir chapter out. This is about 1/2 to 3/4 done, and it is unedited, as I continue to struggle with my first draft perfectionism syndrome. Commentary/corrections are welcome here. Will post tomorrow night, when I return to beautiful Maine (alone--sniff sniff) -----VISIONS (INCOMPLETE MEMOIR CHAPTER) “Did you see him?” Dad looked over at me as I entered his hospital room, with that all-too-familiar glint in his eye. Never mind the fact that he was sick, he only had one thing on his mind. “Daddy…” “C’mon honey,” he encouraged. “He’s young, good looking, and a doctor!” “Yes, he is all of those things.” Sometimes it was just easier to play this game than fight against it. “So? What do you think? I’ve been telling him all about you.” I heard a small groan escape my throat. “Like what?” “That you’re getting your Masters Degree! And that you’re smart and funny and…” “Dad, you shouldn’t be talking to your doctor about me,” I reminded as I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. I sat in a chair I pulled up along side the bed. “And why not? You’ve got a lot to offer a man like that…” “You should be the topic of conversation, Dad! After all, you are the patient.” “Aw, hell, pumpkin, he has all of his charts and tests for that crap.” He frowned, trying to look angry. He did all he could to avoid the most obvious topic: his health. It was like that cliché of the pink elephant; everyone sees the damn thing in the room, but no one wants to be the first to mention it, just in case it’s really not there and he’s deemed to be crazy or something. “Besides,” he continued, “you can’t blame me for wanting a good thing for my girl.” I leaned back in the chair. “No, I don’t blame you for that, Daddy. And, he seems like a very nice man…” “Well what’s the friggin’ problem, then?” “The problem is the ring he’s already wearing on his finger!” The look of realization on his face was priceless and I did all I could to suppress a laugh. “If you’re going to spend your time trying to set me up with men, Daddy, the least you can do is make sure they’re single first.” “Damn,” he muttered. “I didn’t notice that.” “Of course not. All you see is the Dr. in front of his name and your brain goes into meltdown mode.” “I’m just trying to help.” He folded his thin arms in front of his chest. “Don’t worry, Dad. It’s just that we are trained to look for the ring. If it makes you feel any better, when I met him for the first time, it was the first thing I looked for.” A wry smile spread across his lips. “See, I know what you like.” “All right, I won’t argue. What’s the point, anyway?” “None, so forget it.” I studied him for a moment. Dad looked better, comparatively, than he had for a while. Time in the hospital forced him to “dry out” and stay away from the cigarettes. He face was still drawn from all of the weight he had lost, and his skin coloring didn’t look quite right; but, his eyes lost some of the cloudiness that had settled there. “What did the doctor say, anyway?” I asked carefully. Dad glanced sideways at me. “He told me you sounded like a charming young lady.” “I’m not talking about that.” “Hmm, well…they’re gonna be doing some tests tomorrow. See if they can figure out what’s going on with me.” He avoided my glance by staring out the window. I nodded. “What time?” “I don’t know, around 9:30 or so.” “All right, I’ll be here,” I stated as I got up and poured a cup of water from his plastic pitcher. “No way!” he barked, “you have finals.” “Finals don’t start until Monday, Daddy.” “So what? You have to study.” “I have all weekend.” “Why do you insist on arguing with me?” “Because you insist on being stupid.” “I…what?” His eyes narrowed as he realizes what I just said to him. “Never mind.” “You’re less than two weeks from graduating, Marie! You’re gonna screw that up?” “Jesus, Daddy! You’re always so dramatic!” I drink down the water and sit on the edge of his bed. “An hour or so here in the morning is not going to stop me from graduating from college!” “Your mother would have a friggin’ bird if you…” “Would you just stop worrying and let me do what I want!?” He sighed as deeply as his one remaining, damaged lung would allow. “Damn stubborn. Just like your mother.” “Like mom?” I replied with a laugh. “I think I got that trait from both sides of the family.” “Yeah, well…fine.” We sat in silence for a few moments. Then, it came out of nowhere: “I don’t think I’m gonna make it to your graduation.” On the surface, his declaration sounded so simplistic. I don’t believe, though, that its more complex meanings escaped either of us. Usually, I had no problem finding a comeback to toss at my father, whether it was sarcastic or sincere. This one had me at a definite loss. “Dad…” He leaned toward me. “I’ll do my best to be there, ok? I really wanna be there.” “You will be.” “Yeah.” He began a coughing jag. It took at least two minutes before he fully quieted down. “How about for right now, you worry about doing what the doctors tell you and I worry about getting through finals and graduation.” “All right, all right,” he conceded reluctantly, reclining back on the bed. “You know that I was only trying to help before.” My forehead crinkled with confusion. “Huh?” “With the doctor. I was just trying to help you out.” My eyes rolled, although I knew that he hated that. “We’re back to this.” “What’s wrong with finding a man?” I shook my head. “I can’t help it if most of them are losers.” His blue eyes narrowed. “The guys at your college, they’re nothing. Wait until you go to Ohio.” “You said that when I started school,” I reminded. “Didn’t do too well in that department after five years.” He waved his hand at me. “They’re boys, sweetie. You’re gonna meet a man in Ohio.” The look on my face was clear to him. “You don’t believe your father?” He loved nothing more than a challenge. “You’ve rarely been right so far about most things.” I could tell immediately that my words stung a bit, but he carried on. “I know I’m right about this. Remember, I’m psychic.” “Oh, of course,” I played along. “I forgot. And what’s this Prince Charming going to be like?” His reply was slow. “I’m not sure…” “Some psychic you are…” “But, he’ll be a man who can take care of you the way a man should …the kind of man you deserve.” “Ha! See, I know you’re wrong, because you’ve always told me that there was never going to be a man that was good enough for me.” “This one is close enough. I know it. I can almost see him. He’ll be a good man.” For a second, I was a bit frightened. Daddy’s psychic visions were always a little joke between us; something we’d laugh over. Something in his eyes this time, though, was creeping me slightly. “Yeah. Ok, Daddy. I’ll tell you what, if you’re right, I’ll bring him home and tell you to your face that you’re right.” His eyes darkened, but a small smile settled on his lips. “I’ll never live that long.” He was trying to be funny, but somewhere, deep down, he was having another one of his visions. “You’re not going to meet anyone in Ohio, though, if you don’t get your ass back to school and study. I know you think you’re smart and all, but you still need to study.” It was time to wave the white flag this time. “All right, all right. You win.” His smile widened. “Don’t get too cocky. I’m still coming back in the morning.” “Your mother will be here.” “I know, but someone has to be here so the two of you don’t drive each other nuts—or worse—kill each other.” “Funny,” he said with a scowl. “Get here whenever. These people aren’t letting me go anywhere.” “I’ll see you in the morning.” I reached over and hugged him tightly to me, gave him a kiss and left the hospital. In the twenty minutes it took me to get back to my house on campus, I discovered that I, too, possessed my own form of psychic powers. The car managed to get parked properly and I found my way back to my home. I yanked open the screen door, which was letting in the breeze of the evening air and I plopped down on the couch and spread out fully. “Hey!” Jen, one of my housemates, greeted as she walked by me toward the kitchen. I raised my hand slightly. “Hey.” “Late class?” “No.” Chad, the residence director, who was a year and a half younger than me, entered and jumped over the armrest of the easy chair next to me. “Where were ya?” “Hospital.” Jen looked at Chad and then at me. “Damn. Sorry, I forgot. How’s your dad, anyway?” “He looked better tonight.” I had to close my eyes; I felt a headache descending. “That’s good news,” Chad commented a little too quickly—an attempt to prevent the awkward moment from spreading much farther. I moaned something unintelligible and then the inevitable strained silence filled the room. “So…” Chad bravely tried to keep pressing onward. “What happens now?” I opened my eyes reluctantly, not only because of the building throb in my brain, but also because I did not want to acknowledge the vision I had all the way home. But, there was no denying it. In one motion, I sat up and looked at my two friends. “My father’s gonna die, guys.” * * * *