I still Love You - South Park Post COVID [Style]

Chapter 9

Stan

I breathed heavy breaths from inside my car. Feeling the air fill my lungs in weighed puffs of oxygen, before being released in warm steam-like gasps. I was trying to calm myself. I had left all my alcohol on Kyle's counter, so all I had was Alexa and my breathing to calm me down in this situation. Last night gave me confidence that I could face my dad after so long. But now that I'm here, face to face with the retirement home, I felt my heart stop in anxiety and fear. My brain finally wrapped around the situation I put myself in and I felt pressured to drink. But I held myself back, took a final breath and took a step out of my car.

The build-board spoke, "And we are the fastest growing retirement home in Park County. With our newest tower, we can now house 600,000 old people. 'Cause in the future you're old for a long, long time."

I sighed, taking the step into the door.

My sight was immediately filled with old skin and grey hair. Moaning of nonsense and complains as they played boardgames and rolled around in their wheelchairs and their sticks. I always felt uncomfortable around old people. It made me think of my grandfather and all the times he begged me to kill him and end his suffering. I hated feeling like all these old people wanted me to kill them, I couldn't deal with it. I need a drink.

"Can I help you?" The lady at the front desk asked.

"My name is Stan Marsh. I came to... visit my dad."

Anxiety shook through my bones as she used her key to unlock the door. Thoughts ran through my head and questions bugged the back of my brain.

What does he look like?

Did he forgive me?

Does he even remember me anymore?

My thoughts quickly subsided and my mind went blank as I stared at the back of the head of my dad. Randy Marsh. His hair fully grey, a hunched over back looking out the window, a white mustache, and veiny wrinkly skin.

My mind then went to think about all the "compliments" I used to get at family reunions about how I looked just like him. The most recent being twelve years ago where my dad refused to see me, but all my aunt's and uncles on his side talked about how handsome I grew up to be and how I'm "Definitely Randy's kid". Will I look like this one day?

"Mr. Marsh. Mr. Marsh, guess what?" The nurse broke through my thoughts with her energetic and up-beat tone of voice. "Your son is here!"

"I don't have a son." He slurred, a beer can in his right hand.

"Oh, come on, Mr. Marsh, don't be a grumpy pants!"

Her voice began to piss me off. She was treating him like a child. It reminded me of the way Cartman's mom talked to him when he was a kid. And that's not a compliment.

"You tell that piece of shit that if he wants to talk to me, he can write an email. Tell that little pussy if I had any grandkids, maybe I wouldn't be so bitter at having such a little bitch for a son!"

"Hi dad."

"Oh, hey, Stan."

I let what he said consume me. While my voice came out monotone, and my expression read anger, I was deeply hurt and offended by his words. They cut deep and it stung to hear coming from my dad's old lips. How angry he was towards me, his hatred for me because of an accident outside of my control, the names he called me, down to the pauses he took in between his words, all of it hurt me to hear out loud from his perspective. Now definitely wouldn't be the time to tell him biological grandkids were out of the story, but I knew I should talk to him. Not just about Kyle, but about Kenny and what went down.