Arm's Reach
Soul Pancake Prompt: At Arm’s Reach
Warnings: None
Old Silas didn’t know the man’s name, and could not recall ever seeing him before. He opened the door and let him in anyway. It was the neighborly thing to do.
As it happens, the man was Old Silas’ son, and his name also happened to be Silas.
“Hey, pops. I brought your suit,” the man said, holding up a dry cleaning bag. “Get dressed and we’ll get going.”
Old Silas took the bag slowly and inspected it with squinting eyes behind thick glasses.
“This my suit?”
“Yes. Remember? I picked it up from you a few days ago to get it cleaned?”
The man had a tendency to remind Old Silas of the things he’d forgotten, as if jogging his memory a bit would help lessen the dementia.
It never helped, and it always just worked to make Sy Junior more depressed and frustrated.
“Oh, yes,” Old Silas said. He didn’t really remember that, but it couldn’t have been that important, and the man seemed trustworthy enough.
Sy Junior’s eyebrows pulled together, suspecting that he was being lied to, suspecting that his helpful prodding had been brushed aside.
“Where are we going?” Old Silas asked as they pulled onto the highway.
The man looked pained for a moment, gripping the steering wheel more tightly. He checked his blind spot as he merged into traffic to give himself a moment.
Sy Junior had developed a way of answering his father’s questions without directly answering them. That way he wasn’t admitting that his father had a problem. “We have to stop by the house to pick up a few things before we go to the wedding.”
“Oh? Who’s getting married?”
“Abby. Her wedding’s this afternoon.” The man threw up a half hearted grin. “The date snuck up on me too.”
Old Silas smiled and nodded. He has a memory of a girl named Abby from down the street playing on a tricycle in the driveway. She was a sweet girl. Good for her for getting married.
As it happened, Abby was his granddaughter, Sy Junior’s only daughter. The girl Old Silas remembers playing in the driveway was a childhood friend named Agatha, who died of heart disease twenty years ago.
A woman greeted him at the church, saying “Hi, pops,” as she hugged him and kissed his cheek. Even though this was not the church he’s gone to every Sunday for his entire adult life, the people here seemed very friendly, and he fell into easy conversation with the woman. He decided that they must be Lutherans.
As it happens, the woman was his daughter, Claire, and Old Silas hadn’t been to church in over eight years. He had no idea what day of the week it was.
He whispered to the woman sitting next to him in the pew as the bride walked down the aisle. “She’s gotten into some trouble lately, but she’s a good girl. And he’s got a good job with the telephone company. They’re going to move to San Antone to be closer to his family.”
“Oh, yeah?” the woman asked. She was only half listening. Her method of dealing with her father’s dementia was to humor him, something that drove Sy Junior crazy.
Old Silas nodded knowingly, glad that he could pass on some good gossip, and turned his attention back to the ceremony.
He congratulated the bride as the woman guided him through the receiving line. He waved a finger in the bride’s face and with a teasing smirk told her, “Now don’t you go making your sisters feel bad that you got married before them.”
The bride’s face crumpled in confusion. “Grandad, I don’t have any sisters.”
He chuckled. “Don’t go burning bridges just yet. You never know when you’ll need family.”
Her face fell further, and she turned to the woman at his elbow. “He doesn’t know who I am!”
Claire rolled her eyes and led Old Silas further down the receiving line.
Honestly, what did the girl expect? And weren’t they past the point of getting openly upset about it?
“It’s like he’s there. Right there! I could reach out and touch him,” Sy Junior told his sister over a glass of punch. “But he’s so far gone, it’s like he’s not even here. It’s like he’s not my father anymore. Why did I even bother to bring him?”
Claire shrugged. “You knew it’d be like this. Why are you letting it get to you? Enjoy your day instead of worrying about pops.”
Sy Junior frowned and lowered his voice. “What’s going to happen when I’m that far gone? What if I don’t know when my granddaughter gets married? What’ll I do when I’m a burden to my daughter? It’ll happen to you too, you know.”
“I know,” she said. “But I know a lot of very sad things that I’m not going to bring up at a wedding.”
“You’re so frustrating,” he groaned.
“And you’re a party pooper.” She downed her punch, handed him her empty glass, and winked at him. “I’m gonna go dance with that nice old man who says I remind him of someone he used to know.”
Warnings: None
Old Silas didn’t know the man’s name, and could not recall ever seeing him before. He opened the door and let him in anyway. It was the neighborly thing to do.
As it happens, the man was Old Silas’ son, and his name also happened to be Silas.
“Hey, pops. I brought your suit,” the man said, holding up a dry cleaning bag. “Get dressed and we’ll get going.”
Old Silas took the bag slowly and inspected it with squinting eyes behind thick glasses.
“This my suit?”
“Yes. Remember? I picked it up from you a few days ago to get it cleaned?”
The man had a tendency to remind Old Silas of the things he’d forgotten, as if jogging his memory a bit would help lessen the dementia.
It never helped, and it always just worked to make Sy Junior more depressed and frustrated.
“Oh, yes,” Old Silas said. He didn’t really remember that, but it couldn’t have been that important, and the man seemed trustworthy enough.
Sy Junior’s eyebrows pulled together, suspecting that he was being lied to, suspecting that his helpful prodding had been brushed aside.
“Where are we going?” Old Silas asked as they pulled onto the highway.
The man looked pained for a moment, gripping the steering wheel more tightly. He checked his blind spot as he merged into traffic to give himself a moment.
Sy Junior had developed a way of answering his father’s questions without directly answering them. That way he wasn’t admitting that his father had a problem. “We have to stop by the house to pick up a few things before we go to the wedding.”
“Oh? Who’s getting married?”
“Abby. Her wedding’s this afternoon.” The man threw up a half hearted grin. “The date snuck up on me too.”
Old Silas smiled and nodded. He has a memory of a girl named Abby from down the street playing on a tricycle in the driveway. She was a sweet girl. Good for her for getting married.
As it happened, Abby was his granddaughter, Sy Junior’s only daughter. The girl Old Silas remembers playing in the driveway was a childhood friend named Agatha, who died of heart disease twenty years ago.
A woman greeted him at the church, saying “Hi, pops,” as she hugged him and kissed his cheek. Even though this was not the church he’s gone to every Sunday for his entire adult life, the people here seemed very friendly, and he fell into easy conversation with the woman. He decided that they must be Lutherans.
As it happens, the woman was his daughter, Claire, and Old Silas hadn’t been to church in over eight years. He had no idea what day of the week it was.
He whispered to the woman sitting next to him in the pew as the bride walked down the aisle. “She’s gotten into some trouble lately, but she’s a good girl. And he’s got a good job with the telephone company. They’re going to move to San Antone to be closer to his family.”
“Oh, yeah?” the woman asked. She was only half listening. Her method of dealing with her father’s dementia was to humor him, something that drove Sy Junior crazy.
Old Silas nodded knowingly, glad that he could pass on some good gossip, and turned his attention back to the ceremony.
He congratulated the bride as the woman guided him through the receiving line. He waved a finger in the bride’s face and with a teasing smirk told her, “Now don’t you go making your sisters feel bad that you got married before them.”
The bride’s face crumpled in confusion. “Grandad, I don’t have any sisters.”
He chuckled. “Don’t go burning bridges just yet. You never know when you’ll need family.”
Her face fell further, and she turned to the woman at his elbow. “He doesn’t know who I am!”
Claire rolled her eyes and led Old Silas further down the receiving line.
Honestly, what did the girl expect? And weren’t they past the point of getting openly upset about it?
“It’s like he’s there. Right there! I could reach out and touch him,” Sy Junior told his sister over a glass of punch. “But he’s so far gone, it’s like he’s not even here. It’s like he’s not my father anymore. Why did I even bother to bring him?”
Claire shrugged. “You knew it’d be like this. Why are you letting it get to you? Enjoy your day instead of worrying about pops.”
Sy Junior frowned and lowered his voice. “What’s going to happen when I’m that far gone? What if I don’t know when my granddaughter gets married? What’ll I do when I’m a burden to my daughter? It’ll happen to you too, you know.”
“I know,” she said. “But I know a lot of very sad things that I’m not going to bring up at a wedding.”
“You’re so frustrating,” he groaned.
“And you’re a party pooper.” She downed her punch, handed him her empty glass, and winked at him. “I’m gonna go dance with that nice old man who says I remind him of someone he used to know.”