The Comeback

Alone

"Hi Grandma, I'm home," I said as I walked in the door.

"Hello sweetie, how was Coach Arin?" my grandma asked.

"He was good. What do you want for lunch?"

"Oh nothing James, I think your mom or dad will make something for us."

I looked at my grandma. Her dementia was becoming worse and worse, and it worries me. She keeps forgetting that neither one of my parents are around, that it's just the two of us, and it breaks my heart every time I have to tell her the truth. Sometimes, I don't even know if I should tell her.

"Grandma," I started slowly. "Mom left us eleven years ago, and Dad has been fighting in war for the last eight."

My Grandma started to cry, "They're gone? They're really gone?"

"Yes Grandma," I hugged her. "But it's okay. You have me, and I'm going to take care of both of us, okay?"

"Thank you James, you're such a great boy."

"Now what would you like for lunch, Grandma?"

"Could I have a turkey sandwich, please?"

I made my Grandma a turkey sandwich and myself a grilled cheese before going to my room. I closed the door, and pulled out my phone.

After ten seconds of ringing my dad picked up, "Hello, who is this?"

"It's me, dad," I said.

"Oh hello, James, what do you need?"

"Grandma forgot that you and mom are gone again today. She said one of you could make us lunch today."

"So why are you calling?"

"I don't know what to do about it. She just keeps forgetting everything."

"Damnit James, you can't call me every time you have a tiny problem."

"Dad, it's not a tiny problem, this is your mother."

"Grow up James and be a man! I don't care. She's your problem now, not mine," my dad yelled before hanging up on me.

I closed my phone slowly before throwing it at the wall. How could he not understand that I needed his help and advice? I'm only seventeen, and I have to take care of my grandma with dementia all alone. It's not fair.

I left my room and started towards the front door.

"Where you going, hon?" my grandma asked.

"Just on a little walk grandma. I'll be back for dinner," I said exiting the house.

It was a typical steamy July afternoon in Texas. I started walking but to no place in particular. I found myself at the edge of a secret lake my best friend Billy Richards Jr and I had discovered last summer. I sat down by the lake's edge, dipping my feet in the water, and I cried. I cried about my knee and losing my trademark speed which could cost me a scholarship and a chance to go pro and leave this town. I cried about my grandma's dementia and how I was stuck caring for her alone.

Most of all though, I cried about my dad and how much I hate him. It's fair that my dad got to join the army to run away from his responsibilities and everyone thinks he's so honorable when the truth is he didn't want to be a husband or take care of his son and aging mother. He ran away and all he left behind were a divorced wife who could be in Mexico for all I know, a mother with dementia, and a son with a messed up knee who will be stuck working at McDonald's forever.

 When I really think about it, I realize I'm not crying about my dad. I'm crying about some random man because I have no dad.