Come Home

Dr. Thomas (ch 16)

Chapter Sixteen


Dr. Thomas


         I try my phone. It is working now with a strong signal. I call my mother. I told her that I had been doing some research for the book that I was writing. I was glad to be able to hear her voice. I felt as tough I had lost one parent. I needed to know that the other one was there for me.


         I drive to a near by hotel. I did not wan to go home in this condition. My mother would see the fear behind my eyes no matter how big a smile I pasted on my lips. I could not worry her. I would sleep and recoup in a room until the sun came back up.


         I sat up until twelve working on the notes that I had saved up for the novel. I am sure that working on material about Sara was not the smartest thing to concentrate on tonight. I was now taking a look on the project “faster done, faster forgotten”. I finally fell across the piles of notes into a sound sleep.'


         The phone rings. No one knew where I was going. I wipe the sleep from my eyes. Reach over to answer the phone. I expected to be a wrong number. “Ada!”


         “Who?” I asked as I was sure that I misheard the name. “Ada” comes from the receiver again. I drop the phone. This has got to be some kind of weird joke. Someone has heard one of my stories deciding to play a crule prank on me. I look over at the clock. There in big numbers were 3:00.


         I wash my face. I stared in the mirror for the longest time wondering what to do next. I grabbed my change of clothes, organized my notes, and ran for the door. I was not safe anywhere except with my mother. I locked the car door behind me. Then backed out of the space. I was going straight to my home at Mammal's.


         I look into my review mirror. I could see the same reflection that I had left behind earlier. The image was of my dad as I left him behind again. I look behind me, but he is not there. Looked again at the mirror. There he was. I drove about three miles while checking the mirror. I finally got angry. “I don't see you anymore!” I yelled into the emptiness of the road behind me. I grabbed the review from the windshield. I did not think twice about throwing it out the window of my car.


         This time I did not stop to gain my wits. I kept driving until I pulled into the drive way at home. I go to put the key into the door when it opened. Mom was standing there waiting for me. I asked her how she knew that I was home. “I didn't I was going out to check on the shed. I heard a noise that got me thinking that someone was trying to break the lock.” I walk to the shed with her. Everything was fine so we both climbed into the safety of our own beds.


         The next morning Less got ready to catch the school bus. I heard him take a shower, and complain that the toaster was not working fast enough. I wanted to sleep through it. This was not happening this morning.


         The phone rings I heard, “Hey, Sara.” I feel my heart panic. “What you doing this mo...” Before Less could finish his next word, I picked up the extension in my room.


         “Leave us alone.” I say into the telephone. Less runs into the bedroom pressing the mute button as he spoke to me.


         “Are you going crazy?” He asks with a puzzled look in his eyes. “Sara just called to ask about Algebra class.” I put the phone back into its cradle. I must be loosing my mind. There are more people with one name on this planet. I apologize to Less as he walks out of my bedroom.


         After Less left, I went in to check on Mom. Mom was laying across the bed reading. She had a shoe box opened. There were letters and photos scattered on the bed. “Hey Mom what is this?” I ask her as I sit down by her side.


         “I was just reminiscing about our family.” she replies as she reaches me a picture. It was the first one we had taken after Less was born. “I remember this one.” I smile.


         We had stopped at a local department store on our way home from bringing Less home from the hospital. He slept with during every take, and Mom chose the one where he looked the most awake.


         I smile. I reach it back getting another. This one was a wedding photo. “Mom was this you and Dad?” I ask her.


         She lovingly looks at the print. “Yea, your dad was so handsome. My heart melted when I saw him in the suit.” She has a tear in her eye. “I never seen him dressed again.”


         I see a third picture. It was different. Dad was sitting on recliner holding a baby. He seemed so happy. He was looking down at the baby. “Mom who was the baby with Dad?” I ask mom.


         “You can not see your face.” She looked at me. “He always held you so close to his body that a facial shot of you in his arms was totally impossible to capture.”


         Now I am feeling a tear of my own. Mom begins to read a letter, and I feel as though she needs her privacy. I close her bedroom door to a crack. I wanted to be able to look in on her. She wasn't her carefree self today.


         I go take a shower trying to wash the events of the days before. Standing in the spray of water. I close my eyes to protect my eyes from the soap. This was a mistake. I could not stop the flow of disturbing memories. I remembered Dad playing with us. The memory  about what Dad had said in regards to the rose and family. I slid down against the wall. I sit there realizing that no matter how hard the memories were on me they must be a war she can not win.


         Knock, Knock. “Yea,” I reply to the sound of the door. “I will be out soon.”


         “Ok, I was just going to tell you that you have some scrambled eggs on the table.” Mom said. She still waits on me when I am home the same way she did when I was five.


         “Cool,” I say. I continue to turn off the water. I grabbed a towel. Drying off I realized that I forgot to bring me a change of clothes. I wrap my body. I walked past the dinning room into the corner of the kitchen. My clothes had not been taken out of dryer yet. When I reach the kitchen, I realize that there was someone sitting on the couch with Mom.


         It was too late to back track my steps to the bathroom. Mom doesn't notice that I was not dressed until she had turned to introduce me to our company. Her eyes begging for forgiveness.  She said, “Dr. Thomas,” Mom begins. “This is my oldest daughter Matilda.” She looks back at me. “Matilda this is Dr. Thomas. He works with adult welfare. He has come to talk to you about John.” This was strange to hear Mom call our dad by his name.


         “ I need to get something on.” I stated. “ I will be glad to speak with you in about fifteen minutes.”


         Dr. Thomas agrees. He sits back on the couch and chats with Mom while they are sipping on coffee.


         When I return, I was not ready for what the Doctor had to say. He explained that he was the person that is called when an adult is the subject of abuse or neglect.


                   All of my grandparents were passed. I was wondered who they needed to talk to me about. “ Matilda, I wanted to talk to you about your father.” He said as he pulled a clipboard from his briefcase. “Mr. Preston says that he has not paid rent for the past year.” He explained. “We do not inveine in such matters, but Mr. Preston says that he was worried about John because he used to be around all the time.”


         I still was a little shocked. “I seen him the other day.” I knew that those words should not have come out of my mouth.


         He replies, “I need to see him for myself. No one is in trouble. I just want to know that he is all right. He has to be able to care for himself. I need to see this and document it.”


         I look at him. “Why did you find me? I have two other sisters.”


         “You are the one Mr. Preston informed me that was the closest to John. Given his earned title Bad John, it would be safer for a family member to accompany me to his house than if I took the cops.”


         I knew that he was right. If the doctor brought the cops to Dad's house, Dad would loose it. It was hard to tell what he might do. I shake hands with Dr Thomas and agree to ride with him in two days.


         “When did you see your dad?” Mom asks.


         I was trying to find a way to tell Mom about the events of the visit with Dad. When telling her, I of course left out the locked bedroom door. She did not need to know about all most being pulled out the window of my car.


         “How is John?” She asks.


         “Not good,” I am trying to be as honest as I possible could without send her into a frenzy. “He hasn't gone to the store in a while. I don't think that he has even left the house.”


         “How does he eat?”


          “He fishes and hunts.” I tell her not knowing what else to say. I ask her to get dressed so that I can take her to a local restaurant hoping that the memories would be left behind for a pleasant meal.My words are ways to leave peices of myself behind for my children.

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