“We’re almost there” she said. He can sense worry in her voice.
They’re in ɑ somewhat rural area now. Away from the city. “This looks very peaceful, somehow” he thinks.
The taxi driver pulls over near ɑ long path that leads to ɑ small white building. The whole area is filled with pine trees. She pays the taxi and gets out of the car. The scent is very relaxing.
“Come on, I need to show you this” she grabs his hand and they both walk down the path. “Oh, and by the way, don’t worry, this is definitely not rehab” she says in ɑ sarcastic tone. He doesn’t want to show it, but ɑ part of him sighed of relief.
They kept walking to that small, rather old, white building. He’s enjoying the walk. They’re by the door now. “Surprise” she says. “Ummm, an old people’s home?” He says with ɑ confused look. “It’s called ɑ retirement home. Don’t be rude.”
They walk to the reception. She leaves him by the door and goes to talk with the receptionist. Moments later, she comes back and grabs his hand. “I want you to meet someone.” They walk in ɑ long hallway that has doors with numbers and names near every door. The place is as boringly decorated as they can be. White floors, white walls and metal handles along the walls. They finally reach ɑ door that has her last name on it. She’s still holding his hand. She looks at him and smiles. He smiles back. He’s still confused. He feels out of place.
She knocks on the door and opens it. Once they go in, ɑ male nurse smiles, nods, says “welcome back” and then leaves the room. He sees ɑn old man sleeping in ɑ bed. She let’s go of his hand, goes closer to the bed and kisses the man’s forehead. “I want you to meet my father.”
Thoughts & questions are racing to his head.
Why did she bring me here?
Why does she want me to meet her father?
Why is he… She interrupts his thoughts.
“He had ɑ stroke 2 days ɑgo, he is in ɑ coma now. The doctors don’t know when will he wake up from it. No one does.” He’s shocked. “I’m sorry for that” he said with ɑ sad voice. “I brought you here not to feel sorry for him or me. My father was, for ɑ long time of his life, an alcoholic. He ignored us, ignored my mother until the day she died. Ignored me and ignored my siblings. But 3 years ago, at the age of 57, he decided to stop. He decided to go back to life. To us. See, it is never too late to fix it all. He discovered that. He didn’t just give up on himself. He decided to do something about it. It wasn’t too late.”
She held both of his hands “it’s never too late.”
He started tearing up. No, he started crying. Weeping like ɑ little kid. It’s all hitting him now. All at once. His fears. His thoughts. His ‘situation.’ He rested his head on her chest and continued weeping. She held him and they spent the whole afternoon there.
End of part two.