Ripples Through Time

Present Day

The damned doorbell is ringing. I hate that sound, that tink, tink, tink it makes with high pitched tones.  I hate it because it's obnoxious; but I hate it even more because Mellie loved it.

Another ring. Whoever it is, they aren't patient.

I have been expecting her to send someone to check up on me.  To be honest, I'm surprised that it took this long.  Little Bethany always worries, especially where I'm concerned. Hell, ever since I turned seventy-nine she seems to think I can't do anything on my own.

And in some cases she's right. Okay, maybe many cases. Most. My hands are arthritic. My eyes blurry. The last time I tried to open a jar I think I tore something.

But some things I can still do for myself. Have to do for myself. This is one of them.

I shouldn't have called. That was a mistake. That was stupid. I was rambling, thoughtless.  What some psychiatrist might call: 'a plea for help.' Beth didn't take my conversation seriously, I know, but even then she couldn't ignore that call.  That would have been remiss. And Bethany is anything but remiss.

Yet another ring rips my silent world apart.

"Hold your horses," I grumble to myself, rocking forward. It takes me a minute to get out of my chair. It's ugly and red but comfortable as hell.  My knees hurt and pop as my stand. My ankles hurt.  In fact, everything hurts.

"Just a minute," I say, shambling toward the door.  I push the curtain aside and peer through the window.

Nope, it's not her.  Mild relief flows through me, but it's tinged with a sprinkling of sadness.  I'm her father. She can't spare a few minutes of her busy day to come check on me herself?

Selfish thoughts, and I don't need them. Just proves she didn't listen to a word I said.  If she had, I'm sure she would have jumped into that tiny Honda of hers and sped right over.

Instead she is still at the office, filing paperwork with the Grants and Loans Division of the State. Desperate to meet a deadline, my Bethany.  Desperate, and fiercely loyal.  I can forgive her for being too busy at work to come see me herself.

Yeah, sure.

Okay, maybe it hurts a little.

She's a busy woman. I'm proud of her. But I knew, without a doubt, she wouldn't take me seriously.

That's probably why I called her, come to think of it. I didn't want anyone to show up at my doorstep, and especially not Bethany or her husband Adam.  I just wanted to give her a heads up. So she wouldn't take it personally after.  Let her know that I love her. That kind of thing. I'm sure everyone does at times like these. Nothing special. Nothing dramatic.  It was a weak moment, and by God I'm entitled to those.  At eighty-three I'm damn well entitled to anything I want!

And what I wanted was to say goodbye. In my own way.  Just a quick: "It's been a good run, honey, but I'm off to see mom."

Jason's over in California, not even awake at this hour I'm sure.  I didn't want to bother him with something this trivial.  I don't blame him. I'd sleep too, if I could get more than a few hours each night.  And Rickie...

Well, I haven't talked to Rickie in ages.

And so it was Bethany's number I dialed. First her home phone before I remembered she was at work. But even expecting her to send someone, I am surprised as hell to see Edward White's lean and scruffy face through the dirty glass window.  Edward is a kid. Just turned fifty. Or fifty-five.  Maybe fifty-three. Hard to keep straight.

Don't get me wrong, I like the guy.  His wife bakes bread at home in one of those mix-it-and-bake-it machines (that Mellie hated) and will drop off a loaf every couple of weeks.  Sometimes it's still warm.