Page 58 of Truck Me
He’s not seeing me, his daughter. I know that. But there is still recognition in his gaze and that makes me happy. Sort of. I lean down and kiss his forehead. He lets out a soft sigh, closes his eyes, and completely relaxes.
“I’m going to go make some cookies. I’ll bring you some when they’re ready.”
“That would be nice. Thank you.”
I step back and watch my dad for a moment. All his attention is now on the TV, and the anger I saw in him when I first came in is gone.
* * *
Mom is sitting at the dining table holding her mug of tea close to her face when I enter the kitchen. Same as how I’d found Dad, she’s staring blankly at the space in front of her.
“Mom,” I whisper. She doesn’t stir so I say it again, this time with more firmness. “Mom.”
Her eyes snap to mine. “Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
She takes a deep breath and gives me a single nod. “It’s hard seeing him like that. I hoped we would have more time.”
“I know. He thought I was you. He’s currently stuck in his memories. The doctor warned us about this. He also said to give the new medication some time. It could take a few weeks to see positive results.”
She nods again but does speak. She’s back to staring at the emptiness in front of her.
“I’m going to make some cookies. Dad loves those coconut cream macaroons, right?”
Mom nods but doesn’t look at me. “They’re his favorite. If he remembers that.”
“Then I’ll make those.” I head to the pantry to gather the ingredients I need. When I come back, Mom looks a little better. “Do you want to help? Might take your mind off Dad.”
“No.” She pushes to her feet and heads toward the refrigerator. “I think I’ll get a pot of chili on the stove. Your dad loves chili on cold, snowy days.”
I give her a gentle smile. “I think that sounds like a great idea. I’ll even make up a batch of those baked cheddar crackers he likes.”
“He’ll love that.”
We get busy with our chosen tasks, neither of us talking for the next several minutes. Mom is using the counter space next to the stove to prepare the chili while I’m next to the sink mixing up the cookie dough.
There’s a small window above the sink that gives me a perfect view of the backyard. I watch Rayne and Garret playing in the snow. They’re still tossing snowballs at each other but break every few minutes to work on what I think is going to be a fort.
I try to keep my eyes focused on making cookies, but I find I’m watching them more than what I’m doing. When I finally have the first tray of macaroons ready to bake, I turn toward the oven to find Mom watching me. She has a knowing smile on her face.
“What?” I furrow my brow. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Her smile grows. “You like him.”
It’s not a question and my face heats at the meaning behind those words.
“Who? Garret?” I ask, playing dumb.
“You know that’s who I’m talking about.”
I shrug and move past her to open the oven. I slide the tray in and set a timer.
“He’s alright. He’s great with Rayne. Have those two always been this close?”
She nods. “Since she was old enough to walk.”
“Really?” That answer catches me by surprise. I’d expected her to tell me Rayne started visiting him more over the past couple of years.