So anyway, I’ve never seen my dad Roy in that state. I’ve never heard him ask for anything. Whatever he wanted, he would usually go and get. We all decided it was best for him to find someone and pay them to come over every week or two to do the cleaning and cooking while he gets the house ready to sell. After that came the somewhat explosive topic of family togetherness.
Roy stated that he believed we aren’t as close as we should be, and that things need to change. My brother Rex said the relationships between the children are fine, but it’s the relationship with the parents that are lacking. This is due to past issues of abuse and mistrust. In fact, Rex did most of the talking for a while because I couldn’t stop studying Roy. He spent most of the time with his head down and his eyes closed. There was a point when Rex stated that he told his wife to stop sending Roy Christmas cards because he didn’t want Roy’s manipulation and family issues to mess with his marriage. I could see Roy shaking as he opened his eyes--maybe out of frustration or out of sadness I really don’t know-- and… everyone was basically telling him that he and my mom Rita were poison. Every time he would try to make a point, six different counterpoints were made. He looked so defeated that he stopped fighting and asked if we can give it all one more chance. We agreed that we would try, but with extreme caution.
This wasn’t the battle I thought it was gonna be. This wasn’t me needing to rant and rave like I had planned. It would have been pointless. He’s being robbed of his sight and… and of his humanity. I remember him trying to give me pointers about real estate, and telling me that he can be of use to me should I want to buy property in Nigeria. He was telling me things that I already know, and I made sure to tell him this. He was trying so hard to show his worth to me and it made him look so weak. It… it… UGH! I hated him then, as I hate him now. I hate him for being weak. I hate that it took the eventual loss of his eyesight to be the father he should have been. I hate the fact that, because of all my emotional training when dealing with him and Rita and family, I couldn’t console Brooklyn Mike or his sister Monet at their mom’s funeral on Monday. Monet was especially a mess and was hunched over like an old woman as they walked with her mom’s casket. I saw the pain in her eyes and I envied it, because I felt nothing. I’ve trained myself to feel nothing for so long, and most of it had to do with these strange parents of mine. I gave her a hug and cracked jokes with Brooklyn Mike about inviting tenants I’ve evicted to my funeral, but I couldn’t be there for them any other way. I hated Roy for that. I also hated him because… because I knew that I would most likely help him.
I don’t feel sympathy for Roy. Nor empathy. And I definitely don't feel sorry for him. I don’t feel anything for Roy, or anyone else for that matter. But Roy’s last name is Dodger, and familial pride won’t allow me to let him wander about in an empty house, near blind and dependent on church members to help him. They could rob him blind and I would never know. He could trip and fall down the stairs and die at this moment, and no one would know for days. I don’t care what he did in the past; no one with my last name should have to beg for anything. He could have thrown a grenade into a pre-school or have been the architect of the Holocaust… makes no difference to me. The father of Roger Dodger doesn’t die without some form of dignity, and him practically begging for help is something I refuse to accept. I don’t know what I’m gonna do about it yet, but I’ll do something. Even if I don’t want to… even if he deserves a worse fate… I have to do something.
P.S.: While Roy was talking about hiring help, he said that he could barely afford to pay someone $60 a week to help out. The mystery here is what Roy has done/is doing with his money. Is he so cheap that he’s holding on to his principles about spending money, even if it endangers his life? Did he get swindled through his properties in Nigeria? He alluded to something like the latter when we talked, so I should probably find out before I even think of helping him. I never rule out the possibility that someone is playing me, especially Roy. Proceed with extreme caution indeed...
No comments:
Post a Comment