FIL

Hospitals are white. That's what I remember most. We spent a lot of time in the cardiac ward waiting room, Mary and I. The whole family, really. People would come in, an aunt, an uncle, their faces like masks. Why aren't they happy to see each other? It seemed kind of nice to me, in a way, having the whole family together like this, but I didn't let my face show it. I made my face like theirs. 

The first time I met the father, Mary and I had been dating for a couple of weeks. She was still married, but separated. It was only a matter of time for her and the other guy. We knew we were going to get married. We were crazy in love. I wanted to live with her but she wanted to be divorced first. She led me into the house and I couldn't believe seven people grew up in such a small house. I had met the mother once before, so when I saw her and I told her hello, I hugged her. She seemed surprised. How are you, she said. I was smiling and kept hugging her. Finally I let her go. Mary showed me around the house, the three small bedrooms. This was my room, she said. I shared it with Linda and Catherine. I couldn't believe three girls lived in that small room together. My sisters my mom and I had that whole giant house, each with our own bedrooms, and still went at each other all the time. My sisters would pass me in the hallway and just sneer at me, in that big house. So when I saw the little room, I was amazed.

We got to the room where the father was and he was seated in the middle of it, in a small, hard looking wooden chair. In his hand was a cup of coffee. Steam was rising from the cup. He didn't get up and we walked over to where he was. It was like approaching the pope or something. Mary said an introduction and I held out my hand. He took my hand in his. His hand was huge, which was strange because he wasn't very big. I was much taller than him, I figured, but I couldn't be sure because he just kept sitting. That was the first time I met him.

I started going over there every Sunday for lunch. The whole family, all seven of them, would get together. Every Sunday for lunch, I was amazed. They were all grown, all the kids. The brothers liked me and I liked them. The sisters told Mary they thought I was very good looking. I thought that was kind of funny, but Mary loved it. I had convinced her to move in, even though she was still technically married. Funny thing, she got pregnant. She told the father at one of those lunches. I was staring down at my mashed potatoes when she told him. I'm going to have a baby, she said. The father just kept looking forward. He didn't say anything. He just kept looking. I was just sitting there, sweating like crazy. It felt like the room was closing in. It wasn't very big to begin with. Finally he leaned over to the mother, who always sat by his side at the table. He said something I couldn't hear, then he just kept on staring. He didn't look at me. Mary was beaming. She was happy to be pregnant. She miscarried later on. 

I grew up in a big house, like I said. My dad didn't live with us. My mother and he were divorced. Since I was seven, so I didn't know him very well. Of all the strange things, his apartment was close to Mary's family's house. One day I walked in and there was my dad sitting at the table with the rest of the family. He was there for lunch. I don't even remember how they met my dad. He was just there one day. My dad was a retired Major in the Army. The father just kept calling him sir. It was weird. My dad kept saying, call me Mike. But the father said he always called his superiors sir. He was just a sergeant when he was in the service. I thought my dad looked proud, but I couldn't tell. I didn't know him very well. The father saw me  and said come in, sit down. It was the first time he had ever said that to me. My dad quit coming to lunch a couple of months later, after he had passed on.

We got the call that the father fell and was hurt badly. They found him on the front lawn. Some people passing did. It wasn't anyone in the family, I thought that was good. On the way to the hospital, the sky looked like grey marble. There was a single plane tracing its way across the horizon. It was a heart attack that made the father fall, they said, once we got to the hospital. We sat in the waiting room for a long time, that's how I know how white it is there. A magazine was on one of the tables, the page opened to a black and white photo. We sat and waited for what seemed like a long time and finally went home to get some sleep, when they told us he could be in the hospital a while.

Mary and I went home and she was very upset. We lay in bed a long time before I heard her breathing get regular. I closed my eyes but couldn't sleep. My mind kept going and going. I got up and walked into the kitchen. Everything was still. I filled a glass with water and went to the couch. My mind was racing, but I wasn't thinking of anything. I tried hard to focus on a single thought, but I couldn't do it. Next thing I knew Mary was shaking me awake. She looked agitated. We have to go, she said.

We got to the hospital and everyone was gathered around the bed. He looked white and had a shine, as if covered in oil. Some in the room were crying softly. The mother was sitting right next to the father's bed and said, It's OK hon, you can go. She was crying. I looked over at Mary. Her face was slick with tears. I was holding her hand and she was squeezing it hard. I'll be back in a minute, I said. I went through the door, into the hallway, out the sliding glass doors, into the parking lot, found the car and got in. The engine started, I heard it start. The air was on full blast, but it was hot so I turned the knob down to cold and sat there feeling the air blow over me. I pulled out of the spot and drove around the lot, around and around. I kept driving, not going anywhere but around. Finally I finished driving and pulled into a parking spot, a different spot than before. When I got back to the room he was dead. Mary came up and hugged me hard. He's gone, she said. Where were you? I didn't say anything. I looked over at one of the brothers, his eyes were red and shiny. I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder. It didn't yield at all, it was hard and tense. He didn't move.

Everyone else was hugging each other. They were all crying but me. Why am I not crying? He's not my father, I thought. But it wasn't like I never cried. I cried a lot, for a man. Some sappy song on the radio and I would just go, lots of stuff could get me going. I tried to think of something to start me crying. I thought of some of those songs. I thought of other things. But I didn't cry. Not a drop.