“Are you fucking crazy?” I choke the words out through a mouth of Spaghetti O’s.
Dad chooses to disregard my obvious concern as he leans back in his chair and assures me, “Look, I met the guy today at the Denny’s and we discussed the terms of the arrangement. He’s not some murdery pervert, he seems to just be lonely. Even if he was, I could handle it.” He punctuates his point as he reclines further and crosses his arms.
I track his movement, craning my body forward. “Well not being a murdering rapist doesn’t mean he still can’t be a creep”, I scoff. My father’s eyes narrow, a silent warning that I ignore. “God, I mean don’t you feel like this whole thing is a little degrading? Do you even care?”
He snaps upright in his chair, clearly pierced by my sharp words. I know he’s fragile, I know I should stop but I can’t. There’s no use closing the floodgates.
I look into eyes the same shape and color as my own, trying to appeal to his senses as I soften my voice, “Do you have any respect for yourself?”
He stands from his chair, grabbing his plate. “I’m done talking about this Dee.” His voice is gruff, an attempt at stoicism.
I tilt my head up to where he stands across the dinner table, “Did you think I’d be happy for you? You cannot seriously think that this is the only option.” I shake my head as he continues clearing his setting off the dinner table. “Crawling on all fours in a dead dog’s collar for some freak isn’t a job. Gas station attendant is a job, line cook is a job, repairing Ms. Stutzman’s fence is a job.”
I stand up, willing him to look at me but he refuses. He turns towards his bedroom, retreating with his unfinished Spaghetti O’s. I continue raising my voice, “Whatever the hell this is, this situation you've gotten yourself into is not a fucking job!”
As I say the word job, the slam of his bedroom door cuts me off. The sound of it reverberating off the chipped wood paneled walls of the dining room. As I sit alone at the table, silence creeps into our run down ranch house. It is interrupted only by the scrape of my chair and the clanging of my plate as I carelessly leave it in the kitchen sink.
Only half an hour has passed since I heard the Prius pulling up and greeted my dad from the kitchen. His grin so obvious through the screen door as he fussed with the broken lock. He had kissed me on the forehead and I felt hopeful. I had quietly smiled to myself as he washed up for dinner, finally some good news.
Dublin, IN > Domestic Listings
OLDER GENTLEMAN LOOKING FOR SPECIALIZED CARETAKER (DISCRETION APPRECIATED)
72 year old retired male navy veteran affected with severe glaucoma. Mourning the loss of service dog, Dutch, who worked as a seeing eye dog for the past 11 years. Looking for a young-middle aged man to fill his position and provide comfort. Must have drivers license (vehicle is also ideal), able to lift 60+ pounds, and be able to be on his feet (and all fours) for extended periods of time. Must be willing to wear collar. Prior interview to negotiate wage and discuss terms of hire required. Inquire via email - efreeman54@hotmail.com