“What are you doing here?”
He was wearing a bathrobe; he had come out of the house to get the Sunday paper and noticed the car. He had aged a great deal, in the manner of someone who no longer cared much about his appearance. He had not shaved; his breath was bad. I followed him into the house, which seemed eerily the same, though it was very dusty and smelled like old food.
“Are you hungry?” he asked me. “I was going to have cereal, but I think I have some eggs.”
“That’s all right,” I said. “I wasn’t really planning on staying. I just wanted to say hello.”
“Let me put some coffee on.”
I waited in the living room. I had expected to be nervous, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t really feeling much of anything. My father returned from the kitchen with two mugs and sat across from me.
“You look taller,” he said.
“I’m actually the same height. You must remember me wrong.”
We drank our coffee.
“So, how was college? I know you just graduated. They sent me a form.”
“It was fine, thank you.”
“That’s all you’ve got to say about it?” The question wasn’t peevish; he merely seemed interested.
“Mostly.” I shrugged. “I fell in love. It didn’t really work out, though.”
He thought for a moment. “I suppose you’ll want to visit your mother.”
“That would be nice.”
I asked him to stop at a grocery store so I could pick up some flowers. They didn’t have much, just daisies and carnations, but I did not think my mother would mind, and I told the girl behind the counter to wrap them with some greens to make them nice. We drove out of town. The interior of my father’s Buick was full of fast-food trash. I held up a bag from McDonald’s. A few dried-out fries rattled inside it.
“You shouldn’t eat this stuff,” I said.
We arrived at the cemetery, parked, and walked the rest of the way. It was a pleasant morning. We were passing through a sea of graves. My mother’s headstone was located in the area for cremations: smaller headstones, spaced close together. Hers had just her name, Lorraine Fanning, and the dates. She had been fifty-seven.
I put the flowers down and stepped back. I thought about certain days, things we’d done together, about being her son.
“It’s not bad to be here,” I said. “I thought it might be.”
“I don’t come all that much. I guess I should.” My father took a long breath. “I really screwed this up. I know that.”
“It’s all right. It’s all over now.”
“I’m kind of falling apart. I have diabetes, my blood pressure’s through the roof. I’m forgetting things, too. Like yesterday, I had to sew a button on my shirt, and I couldn’t find the scissors.”
“So go to a doctor.”
“It seems like a lot of trouble.” He paused. “The girl you’re in love with. What’s she like?”
I thought for a moment. “Smart. Beautiful. Kind of sarcastic, but in a funny way. There wasn’t one thing that did it, though.”
“I think that’s how it’s supposed to be. That’s how it was with your mother.”
I looked up, into the spring day. Seven hundred miles away, in Cambridge, the graduation ceremony would be just getting rolling. I wondered what my friends were thinking about me.
“She loved you very much.”
“I loved her, too.” I looked at him and smiled. “It’s nice here,” I said. “Thanks for bringing me.”
We returned to the house.
“If you want I can make up your room,” my father said. “I left it just as it was. It’s probably not very clean, though.”
“Actually, I need to get going. I have a long drive.”
He seemed a little sad. “Well. All right then.” He walked me to my car. “Where are you off to?”
“Texas.”
“What’s there?”
“Texans, I guess.” I shrugged. “More school.”
“Do you need any money?”
“They’re giving me a stipend. I should be all right.”
“Well, let me know if you need more. You’re welcome to it.”
We shook hands and then, somewhat awkwardly, embraced. If I’d had to guess, I would have said my father wasn’t going to live much longer. This turned out to be true; we would see each other only four more times before the heart attack that killed him. He was alone in the house when it happened. Because it was a weekend, several days would pass before anybody noticed he was missing and thought to look.
I got into the car. My father was standing above me. He motioned with his hand for me to roll down the window. “Call me when you get there, okay?”