My Life in Shambles(65)
“Colin,” he says in a dazed voice, his attention on a seagull that’s flying in the distance. “I’m to be yer father-in-law, then you should call me Colin. Or dad, I suppose. But let’s not bloody rush things.”
“Okay, Colin,” I say, trying not to be too pushy, “I should get you inside. You don’t even have shoes on.”
“I’m fine. I don’t feel the cold. I just wanted to be out here.” He finally looks at me and his eyes are red. He looks awful and my heart sinks. “Sit down with me Valerie, just for a bit. Then you can go back inside.”
“Okay. But just for one minute,” I tell him. “I’ll get Gail, if I have to.”
“Oh, please. I’ll go with ye. That Gail is an overbearing Holy Joe, ye know the like.” He licks his lips and turns his attention back to the sky. The bird is gone. “Can I ask you a question, Valerie?”
“Of course.”
“Where does the time go? Where does it bleed to? That’s what it does from the day yer born, ye know. Yer born and it bleeds out of ye until ye die.” He closes his eyes. “It seems just yesterday I was asking Padraig’s mother to marry me. And it seems only yesterday that she died. Now I’m here and I’m dying and it just goes so bloody fast, doesn’t it?”
I put my gloved hand on top of his bare one and give it a squeeze. “Come on. Let’s go inside. You’re not planning on dying today so don’t make it worse by catching a cold.”
To my surprise he follows, slowly getting to his feet. I loop my arm around his, supporting him, and walk him toward the house.
“Ye love my son very much, don’t ye?” he asks.
And now, I can answer truthfully. “With all my heart.”
After we walk a few more steps, he slows and looks at me. “I love him too, ye know. I wish there had been more time to show him that. That’s one of my biggest regrets.”
Tears are swimming in my eyes and I offer him a sad smile. “You need to tell him that. He’s a very lost and lonely man. He needs his father more than anything right now.”
I am so tempted to tell him about his diagnosis but I know I’m not supposed to and it would be wrong. Padraig has to tell him, if he’s going to at all. It might even be best to keep it from him, give his father one less thing to worry about.
“How can he be lonely when he has a girl like you?” he asks.
“You can be lonely even with the people you love.” Don’t I know it.
He just nods and the moment we get near the cottage, he gestures weakly to the falconry mews. “Padraig said you’ve taken an interest. Said ye wanted me to teach ye.”
“Only if you have the strength.”
“Bah, I’ll make the strength if it’s for the birds. I miss them ye know. The hawk, Clyde, he’s a real wanker sometimes but he’s a brilliant sight when he flies. I don’t know what will happen to him when I’m gone. Nan can’t live forever. What happens then?”
“I’ll make sure we take care of them. Which is why there’s no better time for me to learn.”
He reaches over and pats my cheek. “Yer a real angel, aren’t ye? I must say, it gives a tired, cranky old man like me some peace to know that you’ll be joining the family. We need strong women like yerself.”
He disappears inside and closes the door.
Once again, I’m torn up inside, my gut feeling like shredded paper.
I almost didn’t want his father to like me. I didn’t want him to have any emotional attachment to me and I certainly didn’t want any attachment to him.
Seems it’s too late for that now.
17
Padraig
“Padraig?”
Valerie’s soft, sweet voice infiltrates my dreams, the one thing these days that’s guaranteed to open my eyes. She makes me want to face the world when all I really want to do is crawl into my darkness and never come out.
I open my eyes and see her sitting on the side of the bed, her bed. It takes me a moment to recognize that. Fucking hell, I was too tired to even go down the stairs and have a nap in my own bedroom.
“How are you feeling?” she asks, leaning in and gently brushing her fingers across my forehead. She feels like an angel.
My mouth is parched and I have trouble swallowing. “Fine. I think I need some water.”
“Stay there,” she says, going into her en suite and bringing out a glass of water. I sit up, carefully, my head feeling heavy, and take the glass from her, nodding my thanks. “It’s the medications,” she says as I drink. “They give you dry mouth.”
She’s been reading up on them, reading up on everything related to MS ever since we got back from the doctor. So far, dry mouth is the only thing that the medications seem to give me. The anti-depressants, which isn’t only for my mood but is supposed to help a range of symptoms, won’t kick in for a few weeks and the other pills only seem to work minimally when I have pain.
It’s frustrating, but to say that is an understatement.
Even in the last few days, my fatigue has increased ten-fold. My balance issues only happen sporadically and I have yet to fall over again like I did with Hooter and my leg spasms at night have calmed a bit. But this weakness, this tiredness, it hits me like we’re in a boxing match, wears me out until I’m down for the count. You can only fight it for so long.