Dissociative Psyche ✦ J. Riley | ✓ [book 2]

10~ Fear Its Prologues

"I don't fear death so much as I fear its prologues: loneliness, decrepitude, pain, debilitation, depression, senility. After a few years of those, I imagine death presents like a holiday at the beach."

~ Mary Roach

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Jenna had to go and meet up with her father to help him with his new den. Therefore, Jake went back to the precinct, hoping Lex had had more luck then he had. 

As soon as Jenna set foot into the house, she tripped over a pile of wooden planks in front of the door. She grumbled as she kicked the planks out of the way, then dashed upstairs to find her father.

"Dad?" she called out. There was no answer. She went down the hall, peeking into each room, even knocking on the bathroom door a few times. But he never answered. 

Eventually, she came to her dad's bedroom at the end of the corridor, the door was open just a crack, and she could hear the faint sound of music in the background. It was David Bowie, singing the words to 'Be My Wife' in tune to the clicking of the fan. 

Jenna took a peek inside, finding her dad lying on the bed. He seemed to be asleep, but in his arms, he clutched an old photo album. She looked around the room, looking at all the old pictures of her mother, all the beautiful memories they got to share. Jenna went over to her father and gently removed the book from his arms, then she gently woke him.

"Dad, wake up," she whispered. Peter mumbled groggily, opening his eyes -- and feeling generally surprised to see his daughter before him.

"Hey, sweetheart. What're you doing here?" he asked.

"You asked me to come over and help you to set up for the carpenters, remember?" she replied. It started to come back to him now.

"Oh! That's right," he sat up in bed, "Bobby will be here around six thirty. He's just going to do some evaluations before they start the dirty work. Then we'll have dinner. Is Jake able to come over?" he asked.

"Not this time," she replied, "He has to work late," she figured it best not to mention that a stranger hurled a brick through their window just this morning, and they had to be moved to an apartment instead.

"That's too bad. I guess that just means for us then, right?" he said, "Help me to my chair, sweetheart,"

"Sure, dad," she grabbed the wheelchair out of the corner and put it next to the bed. Then she took her dad's arms and gently pulled him up, helping him twist until he was able to plop down into the chair. 

"I'm telling you, there's got to be an easier way to get out of bed," he said, "Why don't you invent some new machine to help us old folk out, eh?" 

Jenna chuckled and shook her head, "It's not my expertise, but I can look into it," 

She wheeled him down to the stairs, waited at the bottom while he zipped down in his chair stepper, and they went into the kitchen to prep for dinner. Since losing his job, one of the main things that kept Peter sane was his love for Thai food, and he constantly cooked just for the pure pleasure. It was a little harder, being in a wheelchair and all, but that never stopped him.

"There's lettuce in the bottom shelf in the fridge, and there's a fresh pack of peanuts in the cupboard," he said as he went to get a wok.

"Ew," Jenna groaned, "I don't like peanuts in the Pad Thai," she said.

"It's more authentic with peanuts," he argued.

"And I feel like I'm chewing on soggy Rice Krispies when I eat them in my noodles," Jenna would rather enjoy her peanuts by the fistful as a bar or a movie theatre.