Saturday
When David woke again, he found himself alone, curled up on the couch. Sitting up, he yawned, rubbed his eyes before blinking several times, and looked around the room. At that moment, Catherine walked into the room from the hallway with a new set of clothes on and the handle of a tooth brush sticking out of her mouth. David looked at her and smiled and noticed her hair was wet.
“Good morning,” she said with a mouth full of toothpaste.
“Morning.”
Catherine stuck up an index finger and disappeared down the hallway. He heard the sound of spitting, water running, and some more spitting before the water stopped. Soon, Catherine re-emerged and sat next to David on the couch.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey.”
Catherine leaned forward and picked up a glass which was on the table.
“Water?” she asked.
“Thank you,” he said taking the glass and drinking its entire contents without pause.
“Want some more?”
“I'm okay. Would it be possible to brush my teeth or rinse or something.”
“I have some mouth wash under the sink in the bathroom if you want.”
“That would be great, thank you,” he said as he stood and reached his arms high and leaned back.
“No problem,” she said folding the blanket he used.
“Thanks for folding that.”
“It's nothing.”
Smiling, he stuck out his tongue. She returned the gesture as he turned down the hallway.
Yawning again, he pushed open the bathroom door and flicked up the nearest switch up and the light came on. Kneeling, he opened the small doors beneath the sink and found a bottle with blue liquid. He read the label to be sure it was for rinsing one's mouth and not for disinfecting the toilet. Convinced it was safe, he poured a small amount into the bottle's cap and, from a few inches above his face, emptied the cap into his wide-open mouth. As he swished, Catherine appeared at the bathroom door. David said “Hm” with his mouth closed and full of wash.
“Hey,” she said. “Sorry about passing out last night.”
David waved his hand back and forth and shook his head before turning back to the sink.
In flash, Catherine had reach out and pinched at his waist. He avoided the attack with a swift lean and made noises while waving a finger back and forth and smiling tight-lipped to hold in the mouthwash.
“Oh, you're ticklish?” she asked.
David shook his head and stuck his arms out as Catherine moved closer to him, her fingers opening and closing. David pressed his lips together and reached out quickly, pinching Catherine waist whereupon she shrieked and backed out of the bathroom. He took the free moment to spit. Still leaning over the sink, he saw Catherine in the mirror and felt something jagged dig into his side. He promptly spit and laughed.
“Wait, wait. Let me rinse!” he exclaimed.
David turned on the faucet and palmed some water into his mouth. Feeling something digging into his side again, he spit out the water and said, “Oh, you're gonna get it now.”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Squinting at Catherine and grinning, he hunched over and crept toward her with his arms out and his hands opening and closing like a crab. Catherine backed away down the hall, yet David crept after her
Eventually she backed herself into a corner of the living room where David jabbed out his fingers and probed and prodded and pinched and squeezed her waist and abdomen. Catherine cackled in her attempt to fend him off.
“Okay, okay,” she squealed nearly out of breath.
Withdrawing his arms, David stood upright and looked at her breathing heavily. “You brought this on yourself.”
“Uh huh.”
Grinning, David returned to the couch.
“So, last night was fun,” he said.
“Yes it was. Sorry I fell asleep,” she said sitting herself next to him.
“Don't worry about it. I passed out right after you.”
“Oh, good.”
“Still wanna come to my place? It's very pretty out there. And I promise I'll be a perfect gentleman.”
David hadn't thought of the envelope until that moment, but its presence made itself felt even from such a great distance.
“That sounds nice,” Catherine said.
“When we get there, I'll make us some food, if you can wait.”
“I can wait,” she said.
“Cool. Shall we fetch the cars?”
“We shall.”
Taking a seat, David put on his shoes. Standing, he grabbed his coat and checked the pockets.
“Okay, I'm ready,” he said.
“Let me grab my wallet and I'll be ready.”
“Okay,” David replied as he watched her walk down the hall, presumably to her room. He put on his coat and smelled himself in her absence. Okay, we're good.
“Now, I just need a coat and I'll be ready,” Catherine said as she emerged from the hall with what David guessed was the strap of a wallet around her wrist. She opened a closet door and, removing a coat, put it on.
Opening her front door, she said, “After you.”
David thanked her and waited in the hall while Catherine locked the door. Entering the stairwell, he noticed it didn't feel nearly as cold as it felt only a few hours ago. As they exited the stairwell and the building, they saw an older gentleman walking in their direction with a bag of groceries. “Good morning, Mr. Jenkins,” Catherine said.
The man looked up startled but produced a smile that smoothed the wrinkles in his face. “Good morning, Lady Catherine. Lovely day for a lovely lady.”
Catherine smiled before putting a hand on David's back and saying, “Mr. Jenkins, this is my friend David.”
David started to extend his hand, but seeing the old man's arms were full, he settled for saying, “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jenkins.”
“The pleasure's all mine, m'boy. I'd shake your hand if my arms weren't full.”
“Yes, sir,” David said.
Mr. Jenkins turned to face Catherine again. “Well, I must be going. Lady Jennifer is hungry after all.”
“Give her my best,” Catherine said.
“Yes, ma'am. You two have a lovely day now.”
“We will,” she said.
“Have a good day, Mr. Jenkins,” David said as the older man walked up to the apartment building.
David looked at Catherine. “He seemed very nice.”
“Oh, he's the sweetest old man I've ever met.”
“Is Lady Jennifer his wife?”
Catherine smiled and laughed through her nose.
“What?”
“That's what I thought the first time he mentioned Lady Jennifer to me. That's actually his dog.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I think his wife died years ago, but I never had the heart to ask him about it.”
“Yeah.”
“He moved into the apartment after Bill left.”
“I thought you said no pets were allowed.”
“Yeah, in general that's true. But everyone likes Mr. Jenkins so much that we don't want to tell Maurice. And actually, I think Maurice knows about the dog. But he doesn't say anything about it. Mr. Jenkins is so old and sweet, I don't think Maurice has the heart to tell him to get rid of it.”
The two walked on toward the bar. Cars whizzed by on the road, people strolled by on the sidewalks. The sky's very blue this morning, thought David. A few clouds hung high. The air was cool, but the sun was warm.
"Hey, so, I meant to ask last night but you fell asleep. What did Lyle mean about you two going through a lot? Or was he just joking?”
"No joke. We dated for a few months after I started working here."
"Is that so?” David said trying to remember if he ever noticed them together. “Didn't work out, I take it."
"Not so much. It wasn't terrible or anything, he's just not the kind of person I want to spend much time with. I like confidence. And guys like Lyle exude a lot of what appears to be confidence. But I've learned that it's often just an insecure ego trying to act big and brave. To be fair, Lyle was more secure than most guys I'd ever dated, but he's still got an ego like you wouldn't believe. Not to be mean or anything. He knows it's true, and he wouldn't be bothered by hearing it. I just don't really want to be around it.”
“What makes you think I'm any different?” David asked.
"What makes you think I'm interested?" she asked as she nudged him with her elbow.
"Well, you have been unusually persistent with asking me to join the group for drinks."
"Maybe I was just being nice,” she said.
"Maybe," David said returning her nudge.
"Maybe you're not different," she said. "But if the way you are at work is any indication, you don't seek attention, and you don't seem to care what others think."
"I suppose that's true," David said.
"I hope I didn't annoy."
"It was never annoying," David said. "I like that you persisted even though I'm sure I never showed it. I hope you weren't offended by me declining so much."
"I wasn't. You were never mean about it, and the others told me you kept to yourself most of the time, so I shouldn't expect you to come along. Truth is, I was intrigued by you. And part of me thought of it as a sort of challenge. I don't know if you remember, but I used to invite you out much more often."
"I remember," he said.
"I didn't want you to feel crowded, so I eased up. I just wanted you to feel like you had the option to join us if you wanted."
“Thank you,” David said. “I do appreciate the consideration.
Catherine smiled and was quiet for a moment before she asked, “Do you if I ask something about your dad.”
"I don't mind,” David said.
“Why haven't you talked in so long?"
"Didn't we already discuss that?"
"I don't think so."
"Maybe I talked around it,” he said.
“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”
“It's okay,” he said before a deep breath.
Catherine took his hand. He felt the pressure from his blister on her hand and knew she must feel it too.
“So, you know how I told you my dad was really opposed to me moving so far away?”
“Sure.”
“Well, he showed it by refusing to visit.”
“Is that why you haven't talked to him, because he wouldn't come visit you? Or is there more?”
“There's more. The distance didn't stop my mom and sister. They came out once right after I was able to move in.”
“Right.”
“So, they came and took some pictures. They said they thought it was great and very ‘me' (David quoted with his fingers). Whatever that means. They said next time they come out they were going to help me decorate it. I don't really need decorations, but it made them smile so I wasn't about to deny them the pleasure.”
“How does this get back to your dad?”
“I'm getting there.”
“Oh, okay. Sorry.”
“So, we planned for them to come out a couple months later. The time passed quickly as I was getting settled and situated. When the day arrived, they called me in the morning saying they boarded the plane. I told them I would be there when they arrive. I decided to go early just in case they were ahead of schedule. After parking, I went to the waiting area at the front of the terminal. When I went in, I saw everyone crowded around the TVs. At that moment I felt a pinch in my gut. I walked over and looked up at the TV and saw the flashing lights of emergency vehicles and the burning wreckage of what I assumed was an airplane all over a field.”
Catherine squeezed his hand.
“I tried to be optimistic for a second, you know. Maybe it wasn't theirs, but then the flight number popped up and confirmed it. I stood there in stunned silence and suddenly felt disembodied. Like I was watching myself watch everything. I saw other people's faces and imagined I even saw my own. Some were blank, others were covered with hands. Some people gathered together around the chairs. Everyone was crying together. I was still trying to process it. It felt surreal. Then, I thought about my phone.”
“Yeah, I was gonna say. Didn't they try to call you or something?”
“So, the phone I keep is pretty much for emergencies only so I don't really think about it. Anyway, I found an open corner of the room away from the TVs and turned it on. It showed I had two new messages. I slunk down against the wall and tucked my knees under my chin and pressed the phone to one ear and closed the other one with my finger. I can still hear the message,” David said as he closed his eyes. “‘Two new messages. First unheard message sent today at' whatever time, ‘David! It's Jessie,' said my sister's voice. There's a bunch of crying and screaming so it's hard to make out everything. Anyway, she said, 'I know you probably won't get this until it's too late, but I just wanted tell you I love you very much, and you're the best brother a girl could ever have asked for. I love you, David. Please, don't be upset with yourself for not having your phone on or anything like that. Follow your dreams and maybe someday try to find someone to love. I love you, David. Never forget that. Here's Mom.' Then I heard some more crying. And then my mom's voice, calm as I've ever heard it. ‘David, I love you. We don't know what's going on, but we know it's serious. David, please trust and know that I love you very much. You've been a wonderful son, and I can only hope I've been a decent mother to you. Listen to your head and your heart. I love you.' That was the end of the first message. I was still in disbelief so I barely processed any of what was going on when the second message started. ‘David,' said the familiar voice of my father. ‘Call me.' So, I called him.”
“How'd it go?”
“Not well. I don't really remember all the details, but he was really upset, angry really, and acted like it was my fault, saying if I didn't live so far away, they never would have been on the flight.”
“David, that's ridiculous. I hope you know that's ridiculous.”
“Oh, I'm aware. But part of me can't shake the thought that I had some part in it.”
“Well, of course you had some part, David. Literally everything that has ever happened played some part.”
“I mean, intellectually, I'm aware of that,” David said before going quiet.
“Did you ever try to talk to him?”
“I tried a few times, but he didn't respond. Even at the funeral he was barely responsive, and he glared at me with these dead accusing eyes. That was the last time I saw or heard from him. At first, I didn't try to get in touch with him because I figured he needed space. But the weeks turned into months. That's when I tried to call him the first time. Left a message. No response. Then, at the year anniversary, I called again. Left a message. No response.”
Catherine squeezed David's hand firmly and stopped walking. David stopped a step ahead of her, their arms outstretched. He looked back.
“What?” David asked.
“We overshot the bar.”
David looked around.
“We did, didn't we,” he said.
Arm in arm, they turned around and resumed their trek to Oscar's.
“David, it's not okay that your dad treated you like that.”
“I know, but I can't really do anything about it," he said. After a moment's silence, David spoke, “I'm sorry.”
“Don't apologize. I asked.”
“I know, but it's still a downer.”
“It's okay though. It's part of you,” she said.
David smiled and leaned over to kiss her cheek. Catherine paused to let him.
“So, what had you bothered at work the other day?” she asked.
“Mostly the letter from my dad. I'm having a hard time putting it out of my mind,” David said as they arrived at the parking lot of Oscar's pub. They directed themselves toward Catherine's Jeep.
“Did you read it yet?” she asked.
“No, I've been with you since last night,” David nodded his head in Catherine's direction.
“Right. Well, you should read it,” she said as they walked up to her car.
“You want to read it with me?” he asked.
Catherine opened her mouth as if to say something then shut it.
“What?” he asked.
“That's really personal, David. Are you sure you want me to be there?”
“I mean, I don't need you to read it with me. But I'm enjoying being with you. I'll probably spend a few days processing it regardless of what it says. And you being around won't really interfere with that.”
“I feel the same way, but I can't help feeling a little weird. Are you sure?”
“I'm sure,” David said.
“Okay, I'll come. Are we still gonna eat?”
“Of course. Getting hungry?”
She nodded.
“All right, let's get going then. Follow me. It's not too far.”
“'Kay,” she said before kissing him on the cheek and entering her car. When her legs were out of the way, David shut the door and waved before turning to cross the mostly-empty lot.
When he arrived at his truck, he found the trash had been cleaned up and the hedges cut back. The fence was still rusty, but it wasn't unpleasant, just old-looking. Glad someone was paying attention. After climbing into the cab and starting the engine, David buckled himself in, fixed the mirrors, and craned his neck to check for a clear path. As he did, he noticed the crock pot. Facing forward in his seat, he looked at the crock pot and considered the Willows. It had been a long time that David had known them, years even. There was never a single instance that they weren't kind and helpful. They even went out of their way for him. David thought of the stew and how delicious it was.
“Fine,” he said to the steering wheel. “Fine, I'll go. Next time I see them I'll ask if the invitation is still open.”
After checking behind his car, a tightness pinched in his gut.
“No,” he said. “It's decided. We're doing this.” With that, he pulled out of the spot and re-traced his path across the lot to where Catherine's Jeep was idling. When he passed, he signaled a thumb up. She copied him and followed closely behind as he drove out of town. On the way, many images popped into and out of his mind: his mother and sister, his father, Catherine, his cats, the envelope. He shook his head and braked softly before a fresh yellow light. Could have made it through easily enough, he considered. But he wasn't sure she would've made it. When Catherine's car was stopped behind his, David turned his head around and stuck out his tongue. She opened her mouth wide and stuck out her tongue in a manner reminiscent of Gene Simmons from the band K.I.S.S. After a moment of this, she honked her horn and nodded. David turned around to find the light had changed.
When they arrived at his driveway, he stopped shortly into it, yet far enough so Catherine's car wouldn't be sticking into the main road. David exited his truck, leaving it running, and walked to the mailbox. “Mail” David mouthed at Catherine who was looking at him with a furrowed brow. She rolled down her window.
“What?” she asked.
“Mail,” David answered as he opened the box and slowly extracted its contents. He gave the post a cursory glance as he walked back to this truck and raised an eyebrow at Catherine on the way. Climbing into the cab of his truck, he placed the letters on the passenger seat and crunched down the gravel driveway. Catherine followed.
David and Catherine parked their cars and exited. As they exited, Bosun and Mortimer jogged over to David and rubbed their face and bodies into his pant legs. They purred loudly, and David crouched to scratch their faces and back.
“Hey, guys! It's good to see you,” David said as Bosun reared up to rub his cheeks into David's face.
“Aww, David. They're adorable.”
“Aren't they? They're the best.”
Catherine knelt and extended one of her hands to the cats. The cats looked at her hand and approached slowly, sniffing as they inched closer. Having smelled her hand, they nuzzled it with their faces and purred more loudly. David smiled as he walked back to the truck. He reached across the front seat and grabbed the mail on the passenger's seat. As he pulled back out of the truck he felt the familiar sensation of cat affection on his legs.
“I know, I know. I missed you too.” David knelt again, putting the mail on the gravel and petting the cats. He looked at Catherine who was now standing, surveying the area.
“It's beautiful out here, David.”
“Amen to that.” David stood next to Catherine. “Wanna see the inside?”
“Definitely.”
David walked to the front door of the cottage. Catherine joined him, and the cats sped by and stood at the door fidgeting with themselves.
“I imagine they're happy,” David said as much to himself as to Catherine. When he opened the door, the cats ran in and bounded toward the kitchen. Holding the door, David stepped back giving Catherine entry into his home. There on the landing, they stood, surveying the space before them: an armchair with two side tables atop a rug in front of a fireplace; a mantle with a shotgun and pewter plate with an engraving of a large, calligraphic “M”; an envelope on the floor near one of the side tables.
“Is that it?” Catherine asked pointing to the envelope.
“That's it. Though I'm not sure how it found its way down there. Maybe the cats knocked it down.”
David picked it up, looked at the seal briefly, and placed it back on the side table before walking toward the kitchen.
“You're welcome to look around. As you can probably tell, there isn't much to see. Can I get you something?”
“Some water would be nice.”
“You got it.” David thought he should also get another chair out. When he stepped into the kitchen, this thought was replaced by the image of the cats standing over a pair of empty bowls.
“I'm sorry, little sirs. I'll get you some food right away.” David pulled out a large bag of dry cat food and scooped the food into the bowls. “There you go.” David said putting the bowls on the ground. The cats immediately bit into the food and purred.
“Is that the cats?” Catherine asked peering over the bar area.
“Yeah, they're ravenous beasties. Oh, your water.” David opened a cupboard door and pulled out a pair of glasses.
“Ice?” he asked.
“Please.” Catherine looked on as David acquired ice from the freezer and water from a pitcher in the refrigerator. The ice cracked as he handed her the glass. After a sip, she placed it on the counter and spoke. “What's that?” she said pointing at the wall above the mantle.
“You mean the plate?” David asked.
Catherine nodded.
“Come look,” he said with a wave of his hand as he walked around the bar and led Catherine to the fireplace.
David took the round, silver-looking plate from the wall and handed it to Catherine.
She traced a finger over the engraving. “'M' for Masterson?” she asked
“Yeah, it's sort of a family crest.”
“That's cool. I wish I had family crest,” she said offering the plate back to David.
“You could make one.” David said as he took the plate and returned it to its hook above the fireplace. To his left, David noticed his book shelf. He said, “Hey, remind me to give you that Frankl book, will you?”
“The what?”
“The one about the psychiatrist in the Nazi concentration camps.”
“Oh yeah. Sure. If I remember.”
Standing for a moment, they looked at each other. David furrowed his brow and looked down and around the room. Catherine raised her eyebrows. “Oh yeah,” he said snapping a finger and pointing at Catherine.
“What?” she asked.
He walked over to the dining table where he picked up one of the chairs and set it on the rug in front of the armchair. “You can have the armchair,” he said offering with an open hand
“I'm okay,” she said. “I'll have that one.”
David half-closed his eyes and tilted his head at her.
She smiled. “Okay, okay. Thank you,” she said sitting in the armchair.
Taking the envelope from the side table, David leaned forward, his elbows pressing into his knees. He stared at the red wax seal and wondered if he shouldn't just throw it in the fire.
“You okay?” Catherine asked.
“I'm going to read this to myself. You don't have to sit here, of course. ”
“You should,” Catherine said. “I'll just play with Bosun and Mort.”
“Thanks,” David said as he watched his guest kneel on the rug and Bosun and Mortimer rub their cheeks and hips against her. He smiled, imagining his sister talking to the cats in Catherine's place.
Turning his attention back to the envelope, David slid his fingers under the flap and lifted the seal off the paper. He reached in and pulled out the contents, which were a few sheets of white paper with black, printed lettering and another (thick) envelope upon which were written the words:
“Open after reading the letter”
Guess this is first, David thought as he placed the two envelopes back onto the side table. He read silently:
“From the desk of Mr. Thomas David Masterson.”
“David, if you are reading this that means you aren't completely bitter towards me. First, let me thank you. I know I've been cruel since Mom and Jessie died. So, thank you for not ignoring me completely. I tried calling a few times over the last few weeks, but you didn't answer.—“
David stopped. “I'll be right back,” he said as he stood, leaving the papers in his seat.
“What are you doing?” Catherine asked.
“I want to get my phone,” David said thrusting the door open. “I'll be right back,” he chimed already outside. Through the passenger door, David opened the glove compartment and pulled out the phone and an AC adaptor which he plugged into the phone. Upon entering the cottage, David found Catherine on the floor with the cats who were rubbing their faces on her, purring loudly, and licking her. She looked up.
“They might bite,” David said. “But it shouldn't hurt much. They're just playing.”
“They already bit me once,” she said.
“Sorry, probably should've warned you about that,” David said as he knelt down by a wall and plugged the cord into a socket.
“No problem,” she responded as she stood and walked over to where David was sitting with the phone in his hands.
“Here. Have a seat,” David said tapping the floor beside him. “I haven't turned this on in over a month.”
“Why do you have it then?”
“Emergencies mostly. And I used to talk to family. But that hasn't worked out so well.”
Catherine didn't respond.
The phone powered up. Shortly after reaching the main screen, the phone vibrated three, four, five times. “Jeeze,” David said.
“What?” she asked.
“This is why I never turn it on.”
Catherine shook her head. “For a month, that's nothing.”
“Still.”
“Are they texts or voicemails?” she asked.
David pushed a couple of buttons and said, “Looks like two voicemails and three texts.”
“What do the texts say?”
“One looks like it started in the middle of a sentence. Okay, here's the beginning of that one.” David held it up and read silently.
“‘David, since you won't respond to calls or texts, I'm going to write you a letter. I can't say everything I need to say in a voicemail or text message. If you read this, please…'
“and then it continues,” he said aloud.
“‘…please, know I'm sorry and would like to talk to you as soon as possible. The letter will explain fully if you don't get these first.'
“I guess that's the second one. Okay, here's the first:
‘David, this is your Father. I know you're angry with me, but please respond. It's important.'
After pushing a few buttons and holding the phone to his ear, they both heard a robotic voice say:
“Two new messages. First message sent Thursday, October 11:
‘David, I know it's been a long time, and I realize you're probably still angry at me. But, please, give me a call. It's important we talk as soon as possible.'”
The next message began, “Next message sent Friday, October 19:
‘David, I called and left a message last week. I'm calling again just in case you didn't receive the first one. If you're ignoring me, then I guess you'll ignore this one too. But if you're not ignoring me, please call me back. It's very important that I talk to you as soon as possible. I'm going to send a couple text messages. If you don't respond to those, I'll write you a letter. David, please, call me back as soon as you receive this. I will answer any time of day. And David, I know I haven't said this in a long time, but I love you. I really do, and I hope you'll forgive me.'”
When the message ended, David placed his thumb over the button to delete the message. Instead of pressing the button, he held the phone in his hand and stared.
Interminable minutes passed before either of them said anything. Eventually, Catherine asked “David?”
“I'm here,” he said. “I'm just deciding if I want to keep this message.”
“You can keep it for now and delete it later if you want.”
“This is true.” Having pressed the appropriate button to save the message, David said, “So, it's pretty important I guess.”
“Sounds like it. Do you want to call your dad back?”
Shaking his head, David said, “I'm gonna finish the letter first. It'll be easier to get a grip on what's going on if I don't have to respond to my estranged father at the same time.”
David pulled himself up then grabbed Catherine's hand to help her up.
“Whoa,” David said putting an arm against the wall and holding his head with the other.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just stood up too fast.” Standing upright again, David said, “Okay, steady.”
After he returned to his seat and Catherine to the cats on the rug, David traced a finger over the text and thought, Now, where were we? Oh yeah:
“I tried calling…but you didn't answer. I don't know if you received the messages and ignored them or if you never actually saw them because you never turn on your phone. For all I know, you don't even have it anymore. Anyway, it doesn't matter. I have your attention now. There are several important things I need to say to you, David. The first is I'm sorry. I'm sorry I blamed you for what happened to your mom and Jessie. It was wrong, and I know that. I guess knew it the whole time.
I won't try to excuse it, but you deserve to know how it affected me. You could probably guess, but it crushed me. Your mom and sister felt, at the time, like the only things I had in this world. I know that sounds cold and callous, but, as you know, we never had a very amicable relationship. It wasn't that I didn't love you. God knows I did. But it was different. Less close, I guess. I felt like you wanted me to mind my own business. I don't know, maybe I'm just justifying the fact that I never showed much interest in what you were doing. I realize that now too. It's obviously taken years for me to get over what happened, David. And I'm sorry. I was cruel to do that to you. But I've accepted, as much as I can, that they're gone now.
The truth is, I might still be angry if it weren't for a little…let's call it a “push” from something else in my life right now. This is the second thing I need to tell you. I was recently diagnosed with multiple myeloma…”
David's head fell back and he stared into the space between the chair and the fire place. His mind summoned myriad memories related to his father: birthday parties, learning to drive, trips to soccer tournaments, verbal disputes, church as a child. With every memory recalled, David faded further from the present. He felt like he was standing on a shore of an immense sea. A sea, he reckoned, which was infinitely deep and full of many foul creatures. He shuddered at the thought of it and shivered with chill as the icy waves crawled up and licked his feet and receded, then crawled up and licked his feet again.
A distant, dull rumbling caught his attention. It was faint but definitely there. Opening his eyes, he found the cats on their backs, bellies exposed, and Catherine rubbing them. “Is that the cats?” he asked.
She looked up, “Yeah, sorry, they're loud.”
David shook his head, smiled, and raised a hand as if to say “Think nothing of it.”
“Did you finish?”
“Not yet. I feel a little cold,” he said before pulling a blanket from under one of the side tables.
With the blanket draped over his legs, David's eyes glazed over. He was imagining his mother and sister when they came to visit.
“It's totally empty in here! Mom, tell him,” Jessie said.
David smiled just as he did when his mother looked at him before telling his sister, “He likes it this way.”
“Ugh. I know, but David, come on!”
“What are you smiling about?” a female voice said.
David's attention returned to the living room with Catherine in it. “I was just thinking about the time Mom and Jessie came to visit. Jessie complained about how empty the place was. Is.”
“It is kinda empty.”
“It's true.”
“But you like it this way, don't you?”
David looked at Catherine. His jaw clenched and his eyes felt irritated and full of something. “I do,” he said.
Looking at the papers again, he resumed reading:
“…I don't know how much you know about it, but it's a pretty serious blood cancer. The doctors said I was lucky they caught it as early as they did, but the treatment is still going to be challenging. The first round of chemo is scheduled to begin in a week or so. As for a prognosis, they said it's going to be an ‘as we go' sort of thing.
Anyway, it was the initial diagnosis that really shook me up. I went home that night and couldn't think of anything other than your mom, your sister, and you. It's weird, David. Until we realize that Death is right around the corner — always, right around the corner — we seem perfectly content to hold on to our anger and bitterness. But as soon as we realize that life is only a wisp of air, a brief stirring of dust before it settles again, then we realize what's really important to us, and what isn't.
I had a dream later that night. It was a little strange, but bear with me. It changed everything.
It was two or three weeks ago now. I had just got home from the doctor after they had called me in to discuss some ‘irregularities' in my blood work from a previous appointment. I guess I was still in shock. I tried to eat, but food tasted like nothing. I cleaned up a little around the house, just to take my mind off things, but it didn't do any good. So, I went to bed. Or tried to. It was a restless sleep. I'll tell you, David, cancer news will take the wind right out of your sails. Anyway, going to bed early probably wasn't the best idea considering I just lied there for hours before I finally drifted off.
The next thing I know, I'm tumbling through space. It was like falling, but it wasn't falling. I felt like I was flying through all the memories of my entire life. Most of it I recognized, although it was all a blur. And some of it I couldn't tell if I made it up or what. Eventually I settled out of the ‘tumbling' and found myself in a vast, limitless emptiness. It felt like the Void, the great Nothingness. But it wasn't cold. It wasn't uncomfortable at all. In fact, it had the feeling of ‘home'. It was the most comforting feeling I'd felt in a long, long time. Soon, however, I realized I wasn't alone. It was strange though because it was like an understood presence of another being. It's hard to say another ‘person' because there didn't seem to be any bodies. I didn't have a body, yet I was there. And this other being didn't have a body either. Yet, he/she/it was there. It felt like I was Dante and ‘he' was my guide. (Did you ever read The Divine Comedy? I think you'd like it.) So, I spoke to him. Honestly, I don't remember how the conversation started. But eventually I began to ask him questions. One of the questions I asked was how it really felt to learn of your mother's and Jessie's deaths. As soon as I finished asking my question, the ‘ground' beneath me split apart, like an enormous crater, except for a towering, skinny, pillar, barely wide enough to stand on. Yet, there I stood. I didn't know what to do. I just stood there surveying the immense pit of devastation that follows a terrific bombing or a meteor crash. And then, hovering before me as I stood perilously on top of the tower was your face. In that moment, I understood everything in my life more than ever before. You were the only thing I had left in this world. And I realized how terrible I'd been to you. When I woke up, I cried for a long time. I truly recognized for the first time that because of my anger and my choices, we've been apart for so long. This void between us is my fault.
After I pulled myself together, I took a shower even though it was still dark out, and tried to occupy myself for the next several hours until I could call my attorney. This leads me to the final thing. David, I'm leaving everything to you when I die — if you want it. It might not be soon, if the treatment is any good. But I will die eventually, and when I do, I want you to have everything, the business, the estate, the house, all of it. You don't have to give up your place in Washington, but you would have to come home to acknowledge the execution of the will. If you decide you want nothing to do with me, then I will have to accept that. If that is your decision, then a month after you receive notification of my death (which would be confirmed by my attorney's office), the estate will be donated to various charities.
I hope and pray, David that you will receive this and will contact me as soon as you can. I know I don't deserve forgiveness. But I love you. Maybe that will be enough. I've enclosed in the other envelope a copy of the will so you can review it if you like.
Sincerely and with all my love,
Your father,
Thomas David Masterson.
David pulled out the other envelope and pried it open. Removing several folded papers, he unfolded and scanned them. Looks like everything, David thought.
“Catherine,” he said summoning her attention.
“Hmm?” she asked looking up. The cats pawed at her hands.
“You want to read it?” he asked.
“I'm curious,” she said.
“Here,” David said standing up from his chair and offering the various papers.
Catherine stood up, took the papers, and traded spaces with David. “Hey guys,” David said rubbing his cats faces and back and bellies. As he sat there petting his cats, David did not think about the letter he just read. Maybe it's just a lot to take in, he thought before burying his face in the cats' fur.
After a moment she said, “You didn't say you were named after your dad.”
“I wasn't. ‘David' was my grandfather's name.”
"Oh okay."
After a few more minutes Catherine spoke again, “How does all this make you feel?”
Looking up, David said, “I don't know. I'm not sure what to make of it.”
“Well, you have time to think it over.”
“I guess so…” David said, his voice trailing off.
“What?”
“I don't know. What do you think?”
“Honestly, I think you should call him and fly out to see him immediately, like Monday. He loves you, David. And I know you love him too.”
David considered this in silence. The cats had curled themselves into large, furry balls of sleep.
“Catherine,” he said.
“What?” she asked when she looked at him.
“Would you go with me?”
THE END