The Thief of Lost Time

Chapter 46: "Dad has What?"

Once a week, we take Dad to his favorite restaurant. Tonight, he dresses up to impress the waitress. We always sit in the same booth because they pretend to flirt with each other. The waitress greets him by name. "George, you're all dolled up tonight. Do you have a date after dinner?"

"I might have. What time do you get off?"

During dinner, I tell Dad that his suit against the nursing home could take two or three years to make its way through the courts. "The back and forth among the lawyers will be a constant reminder of the nursing home and Mom's death." Did he want the anger and regret to overshadow the remaining years of his life?

"Sometimes you must do what's right," is his answer

"I'll support you, but I don't want to see you aggravated when it doesn't go your way."

"That's what you said when I contested my ticket."

"What ticket?" Leslie asks. "When was this?"

The waitress arrives with dinner, leaving Leslie hanging. "Enjoy your dinner, folks."

"What's this about a ticket?

Dad launches into the story of the minor accident he'd had in the crowded supermarket parking lot two months ago. The other car had already passed behind him. "I looked in the rearview mirror. No one was there, so I backed out and bam! I hit a car. The damn fool was in my way."

I'll admit Dad has a point. The other driver was a damn fool. Instead of waiting for Dad to leave, he started backing up to prevent anyone behind him from stealing Dad's space.

"What happened next?"

"It was dark and raining, and I wasn't about to get out of my car. The cops said I was at fault. I explained that the other guy was reversing out of the blue. The cop gave me a ticket and said if didn't like it I could take it up with the judge."

"He shouldn't have spoken that way. How old was the other driver?"

"Old enough to know better."

Dad had stewed about this 'injustice' for two days before I stopped by to visit. He was determined to fight the ticket. "It wasn't my fault. It was dark and raining and—"

I appeal to Leslie. "All I said was I didn't think the weather would carry much weight with the judge."

"—he got in my way. I'm not paying a surcharge on my insurance for the next six years!"

"I reminded Dad about what happened to Mom. Bring attention to your age and the Registry might make you retake the driving test."

Leslie's hopeful expression says Dad's failing the test could solve our concern about his driving.

Dad had made up his mind and I gave up. That was the last I'd heard about the ticket. Now as he tells Leslie the story, I learn he had to reschedule his appearance in traffic court twice because of doctor appointments.

"When I called the third time, a nice lady answered the phone. I explained I wanted to contest a ticket, and she asked how old I was. "Eighty-nine."

""Oh, dear," she said. "You don't have to come in. We'll take care of it here for you." And they did." Dad pulls an envelope from his pocket and flaps it triumphantly in front of me. "Case dismissed without prejudice."

I imagine he's told the story to all his neighbors: "My son said I couldn't win..." I wonder how long he's waited to tell me.

"All I'm saying is if I can beat this ticket, who says I can't beat the nursing home?"