Alistair McClair, Seattle's #1 most eligible bachelor, has had a string of horrible breakups. 99 ex-girlfriends to be exact. And now was his time for a new match. But an issue arises in the matchmaking process, linking him up with a man. Alistair se...
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Alistair McClair
Before Calvin could even stop the car, I had already opened the car door and lept out onto the gravel. I almost slipped and fell but caught myself on the mailbox.
"Alistair!" Calvin yelled. But I had already reached the front door and had already opened it. As I stepped inside, there was an eerie silence.
"Mom!" I yelled. A pair of footsteps stomped down the stairs, and my mom was there with her face disheveled.
"Ali," Mom said. She ran to me and gave me a tight hug, placing his head in my chest.
"Mom, where's dad? Is he okay?" I asked her while patting her back. Another pair of footsteps came down the stairs. The nurse who tends to my dad came around and gave me a greeting. "How is my dad?" I asked her.
The nurse walked closer towards me. "You're father is fine, Mr. McClair. Your father is currently experiencing a lucid wake." She said. I tilted my head to the side. "Before, your father believed he was in his early-to-mid twenties. Now, he's fully aware that he's in his fifties."
My mom looked up from my head. "He called me 'sweetie'. He hasn't called me that in years." She sobbed.
I hugged her tighter and looked back at the nurse. "How long is this going to last?" I asked.
"Not sure. It doesn't seem to be a terminal lucid, more paradoxical. Still, you should take the opportunity to catch up." She said. I thanked the nurse and let her leave. I sat mom on the couch and fetched her a glass of water.
Calvin came in and joined next to me. I caught him up on what happened and what the nurse told me.
"Are you going to see him right now?" Calvin asked me.
"Yes, I am. Could you keep my mom company? This might be a bit difficult and I don't want to leave her alone." I told him. Calvin agreed and went to sit next to my mom, who was still weeping.
I walked up the stairs of the home, a familiar path. I knocked on the door of my dad's room. He yelled, "Come in!" And I did.
As I opened the door, my heart racing, I braced myself for what I was going to see. My dad for the past few years has had the same calm but jovial expression. Seeing him essentially age twenty years mentally means I am going to be seeing a different man today.
On the bed was my dad. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly trimmed and he wore a light blue pajama set. His reading glasses were nestled in his hair.
"Alistair?" Dad said. "Alistair? Is that you?" He asked again.
I could only nod and begin to cry as I ran to his bedside and leaned to give him a hug. I cried into his shoulder while my dad rubbed my back.
