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As if she’d read his thoughts, she asked him, “Still living alone?”
“Yes, Mom. I think God intended me to be a bachelor. Sorry for no grandkids.”
“And a proud lineage it would have been nice to carry on. All those warriors on your dad’s side—”
His father swore in the distance.
“Don’t do that. God will just have to live with the last of the vintage being the perfect one, right?”
She smiled wide at that one. “Yes, that’s the way we’ll think about it. And look how handsome you still are. You could still nab one young enough to breed, you know?”
“Maria, didn’t you hear him?” his dad barked from across the room. “He asked you not to do that. Would you just quit? It isn’t going to happen. He’s too old to have kids.”
Her face showed pain.
Still trying to make her feel better, he said, “Not really, Mom, so if I find a nice woman, like you, I’ll be sure to work on it quick. I promise.”
“Someone like Moira,” she whispered to him softly.
It hurt him to the core. His dad broke his sad mood.
“What did you say? No secrets please, Maria. Who are you talking about?”
His mother held Dimitri’s hand and turned her head toward her husband. “Moira, the woman he was engaged to.”
“Never heard of her. Honestly, Dimitri, the drugs are getting to her. She makes stuff up,” said the man suffering and now demonstrating his own dementia.
Again, he had the thought.
Perfect.
Chapter Seven
The kerfuffle betweenthe sisters continued well into the night after dinner. He helped his dad in the kitchen to remove himself from the drama neither one of them wanted.
“Is it like this every evening?” he asked.
“Just about. It’s getting harder and harder to hold my anger. Don’t want to hurt your darling mother, Dimitri, but they are wearing me out. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the help and all. I’m not strong enough to hold her in the shower, and it takes two of them to do it, and for the changing of her diapers. I don’t care how much you love someone, it’s just not something we men are used to. For the sake of satisfying those tasks, I’m glad they’re here.”
“But you’ll have to hire someone soon, Dad. That’s the next step. Unless you want to spend the rest of your days living with her sisters.”
“Oh God, no! They have a nice facility here at the Ranch. But she doesn’t want to go there, and I don’t want to be the one to send her, either. She likes her house, her flowers, her butterflies, the papayas and bananas we grow here. I think she eats healthier, when she eats, when we harvest our cabbage and broccoli, and the string beans this year are overflowing. It’s been a bountiful year.”
Dimitri was thinking it was a good time to die. He’d certainly seen a lot of elderly pass away in the middle of a war zone, andthat wasn’t very pretty. It was a scourge against humanity that someone who birthed children and contributed to the family had to die in a heap of rubble that was later cleared out with a bulldozer to make the streets wider for heavier equipment needed in the war effort. He’d seen his share of baby carriages, dirty or scorched stuffed animals, and children’s shoes half-buried to give him nightmares for the rest of his life. He endured it because that was his job. To make it easier for others to escape, to get the rescue crews in to save the living. Disposing of the dying or dead was unceremonious and made him sad, even sick to his stomach.
Of course he’d spare his father this. No reason for anyone to see it unless they were forced to. He was glad he wasn’t in that business any longer.
“She’s really got it nice here, Dad. Compared to how the rest of the world lives, she’s in the lap of luxury. She can accept death on death’s terms, and we are all here to hold her hand and keep her from getting scared.”
“When you put it that way, I guess you think I’m a calloused sonofabitch, don’t you?”
“Not at all. Everyone grieves in their own way.”
All of a sudden, his dad stopped. He took two shuffling steps back, bringing his wet hands out of the dishwater, dripping.
“What am I doing here?” He had a panic in his eye as he searched for something in front of him that looked familiar and found nothing. He was in his private space again.
Dimitri put his hand on his dad’s shoulder. “You’re with me, Dad. We’re doing the dishes. Getting ready for bed soon. Remember?”
