The sun was so bright through my windows as I tried to wake up. I was lying on my left side, curled up into a ball, staring at my dresser across the room and not recognizing it. I grabbed my eyeglasses off the nightstand next to my bed and put them on. My grandmother’s dresser stared back at me. I took in the rest of my bedroom and noticed that it was filled with my grandmother’s furniture instead of my own. The dresser belonged to my mother’s mother. My mother. My mother was dead. I was 44 years old, sleeping in my childhood bedroom because my mother had just died. The realization caused a jolt of shock and grief to move through me at the speed of light.
“Darian!” my father called out from downstairs. Your cousin, Neda, is on the phone. She says it is important! Do you want to talk to her?”
“Hold on!” I yelled back, wiping away tears. I walked over to my door to grab the phone off the small table that used to be there when I was in college, but it was no longer there. I slipped my feet into an old pair of my mother’s slippers and headed downstairs.
“Jason called as well but I didn’t want to wake you,” my dad said as he handed me the phone.
“Hi Neda,” I said into the receiver. “I’m sorry, I forgot to call you once I got here. I’m still kind of out of it.”
“That’s okay honey Joon.” Neda, like all of my Persian relatives, always adds “Joon” to the end of my name as a term of endearment. “You’ve had a difficult two days,” she said. “But I need to talk to you about my father. Is this a good time?”
“Of course,” I said. “How is he holding up?” My uncle had been suffering from cancer for months.
“Darian Joon, my father is dying,” Neda said. I’m not sure how long he has left, and I don’t know if I should say anything to your father with him having just lost your mother. This is such a horrible time for all of us. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I should share the news with your father yet. But still, he will want to know that his brother is dying, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, he’ll definitely want to know. How long does your father have, Neda?”
“A month maybe. But that may be optimistic. I’m really not sure. He’s not doing well. Hospice is here now.”
“Neda, I’m so sorry, honey. I’m trying to get my dad to come back to Maryland with me so if he does, we’ll visit you as soon as we get there. But I have to go now. This is too much to process.”
“I know, my love. Please stay in touch with me though. Call me and let me know if you need anything. Let’s hold off on telling your dad right now. If Jason and the kids need anything, just let me know – anything at all. I love you! My mother sends her love as well.”
“I love you too, Neda. I’ll be in touch,” I said before hanging up.
“Rias is not doing well?” my father asked from the kitchen.
“No, it doesn’t sound like it. Listen, Dad, why don’t we just pack up a suitcase and you can come back to Maryland with me this weekend? How does that sound?”
“I cannot do that, Darian. I need to rent the church. I have to find students to live there or else I will have no money for my taxes. Some students left a message a few days ago but I have not gotten back to them. Can you call them and show them the church tonight? I don’t want them to hear my accent yet. Your mother always handled the sales part, so I have been waiting for you to get here to do the same.”
“Okay, I’ll call them right now,” I said.
“I’ll go with you tonight though in case they have questions,” my dad added. “You can introduce me as ‘Bruce.’ That sounds more American. That is what your mother used to do.”
“Sure Dad,” I said with a little laugh. “Bruce it is. And I’ll be Dee. I mean, we both might as well sound as American as we possibly can here. We can’t afford to screw this up. We need renters. And if I get these guys to rent the place, you’re coming back home with me, deal?” I asked.
“Yes deal,” my father said. “I will come back home with you. I promise.”
I walked over to the picture window and looked out at all the white. The snow reached the bottom of our windowsill, so I figured a couple of feet had accumulated during the night. Everything was so still outside that it didn’t seem real. All the branches behind my house were covered in ice and frozen into complete stillness. It felt like the apocalypse and my dad and I were the only two people who had survived it. I wondered if we were the only two people left in this world.
“Wow, we got a lot of snow last night,” I said.
“Yes, I will need to run the snow blower down the driveway for us to be able to get out today,” my dad replied, grabbing his coat off the chair.
“Well hold on. Let me call these guys first and then I’ll help you with the driveway. I don’t want you to do that all alone.”
“Darian, I do it all the time. Every time it snows.”
“I know, just wait for me. Please.”
“All right. After breakfast,” my dad said, putting his coat back down. “There is no rush. Here, I’ve made some cream of wheat. Have some,” he said walking towards the kitchen stove. I sat down at the table as my father poured me a bowl. I could tell that he was enjoying taking care of me.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Yes, of course. It is vedy good, right? I use only whole milk when I make it.”
“It’s really tasty. That must be the magic ingredient,” I said smiling back at him. “The swelling on your jaw is going down. You look really good. I’m liking your new teeth.”
“Not as much as I am liking having them!” he said with a chuckle. We both laughed.
“I’m sure. It’s clear you haven’t eaten in months. You’ve lost a lot of weight, Dad. We’re going to have to fatten you up. Let’s not forget to go to Walmart today to pick up some stuff so I can teach you how to cook a few simple things, okay?”
“Yes. Especially rice. I want to be able to make rice.”
“Yeah, rice is easy. We’ll go to Walmart after we snowblow our way outta here.”
My father looked down at his tea for a moment then took a sip.
“I would really like to see my brother,” he said. “But I can’t go now. I can’t leave Potsdam. Your mother hasn’t even been cremated yet. But maybe I’ll go see him after that. Is my brother bad? What did Neda say?”
“Hospice is already there, Dad,” I replied reluctantly.
“So, it must be bad then,” my dad said, raising his hand to his forehead. “He won’t have much time.”
I took a deep breath. It was difficult to watch my father struggling with such a tough decision so soon after losing my mother.
“I’m really glad you and Uncle Rias have been able to reconnect with each other more recently. The two of you have been getting along so well.”
“Yes, I would say we started getting closer again maybe 10 years ago. I think we both realized it was good to be in touch once our sister and mother both died. It is good to have family in your life, Darian.”
“That’s why I want you to come back to Maryland with me, Dad.”
“I know,” my father said closing his eyes. It occurred to me that I was putting too much pressure on him to move in with me, so I decided to change the subject back to his brother. My Uncle Rias had had an interesting life and I wanted to learn more about it. With my mother suddenly gone, it became clear to me that I wanted to hear as many of my father’s stories while I was still fortunate enough to have him with me.
“Did your brother continue making films once he moved to the States?” I asked my dad, who had always been secretive about his former life in Iran while I was growing up. My father had started to share more now that I was an adult so I thought this would be a good opportunity to hear his whole story, or at least as much of it as he was willing to tell me.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Uncle Rias. Did he ever film again once he moved to America?”
“No, that was his life back in Iran. He was the Shah’s personal videographer for several years, for most of his career actually.”
“Why did the Shah hire all Baha’i people to work for him? Why not Muslim?”
“The Baha’i people are non-violent, peaceful people. The Shah knew this and knew that he would not have to worry about being assassinated if he hired Baha’is. So, all those who worked closest to him were Baha’i.”
“I can’t believe your brother worked so closely with the Shah. Why didn’t you ever want to talk about any of this when I was younger?”
“I didn’t want you to tell your classmates who my family was back in Iran. I didn’t want you to be associated with that culture.”
“Why not?”
“Darian, there is a lot of hatred here. You know that. It would not have been safe for you if people had known. I wanted you to be considered an American.”
“Did you ever meet the Shah?”
“Yes, on a few occasions. Rias was with him every day though. My parents were best friends with the Shah’s physician. My closest friend growing up was the son of the head of the Iranian Army. Darian, my family was in the upper echelon of the entire country, the inner circle of power. I was being sent to the top schools so that I could be the Shah’s physician once my father’s best friend retired. It had already been discussed with my father. I was being primed for this purpose from the time I was in grade school and showing a strength in the sciences.”
“So why in the world did you leave and come here?”
“I didn’t want that life. Iran was a dictatorship. The Shah was a kind and gentle man, but he was a puppet. He was the type of fellow that concerned himself with the comfort of others. ‘Is that chair too stiff, would you like a pillow?’ he would ask. This is the type of man he was, very considerate and gentle. His family though, especially his sisters, were using him for their own benefit. They were hungry for power. And everything was very controlled. You had to watch every word that you said. I could never be myself or speak my mind in that environment. I would have ended up a puppet too. In addition, I thought there would be more opportunities for my music in the States.”
“But even after everything you’ve been through here? After losing everything, you would still choose to live in America? I mean, God, you would’ve had it made there! Such an easy life.”
“Darian, even in retrospect, I would not have made a different decision. I would never choose to live in Iran again. It is true that my career was robbed from me here, but I still have the freedom to say and believe whatever I want, and nobody will kill me for it here.”
“I just don’t get it, Dad. You’re hated here because of the way you look. You were accused of raping three women simply because of your ethnic background! You lost your medical license, your livelihood, everything! You would choose that all over again?”
“Of course, I would. But it does not surprise me that you don’t get it. How could you possibly understand? You have always had your freedom. You don’t know what it feels like to live in a dictatorship. Darian, freedom is the greatest luxury on earth, much more luxurious than wealth, security or power, even more luxurious than a career.”
“Will you tell me more about it? About your life?”
“What do you want to know?”
“I want to know you, dad. I want to know your whole life. You know, as sad as these circumstances are for my being here, I want you to know how happy I am to have this time alone with you, to be able to hear your story. I want to talk to you like this every day while we have this time together, okay?”
“That is fine. What else do we really have to do?” my father asked.
“Well, actually, I think there’s quite a bit that has to be done, but I do think we deserve to procrastinate just a little, don’t you? We are mourning after all.”
“Yes, we definitely deserve to procrastinate right now. There is plenty of time to deal with the snow and to learn how to cook! All right then, what do you want to know?”
“Everything,” I said as I felt my smile stretch to my ears.
“Well, let’s put some more wood in the fire then and have a talk,” my dad said as he stood up and walked over to the stove. I stood up with him and brought our dishes to the sink. I poured some tea for the two of us. Then I walked over to the sofa and held our teacups in my hands until my father joined me. Once he sat down, I gave him his cup, and snuggled up next to him.
“I was born in communist Russia,” my father began. “I am Iranian by race and I am American by citizenship. Yet, I am one in the same under any flag. My biggest quest in life has been to try and figure out what makes good people do bad things. I became desperate to understand this at the age of 4 ½ years old. My family was living in Russia at the time and my father was very ill. I loved the police when I was a small boy. Back then I couldn’t wait to grow up and become one so that I could wear the nice uniform they all wore. But eventually the police were instructed to arrest anyone not willing to be communist and send them to prison in Siberia. Anyway, very late one evening the police began to bang on our door. They had come to arrest my father. But my father was so sick that he could barely stand. I remember running into our living room crying and begging the officers not to take my sick father away from me. This caused one of the police officers to cry. He apologized to me and put his hand on my shoulder. He looked so sincere, but he still took my father away and had him imprisoned for many months. I was so confused. Why would such a nice fellow take my sick father away from me? I could not understand this.”
“Sounds like he sold his soul.”
“Darian, there is no such thing as a soul! I have proven that in my book if you would just take the time to read it.”
“I tried, Dad. Your book doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“That is because English is not my first language. But anyway, nobody has a soul, including the police officer that took my father. No, the officer had simply made the decision to be a sub-human. I think ‘human’ is too good of a word for most people to be called. The Nazis. How could any of them be referred to as human? No, they were sub-human as well. Sub-humans are not as evolved as humans. Yet every day provides an opportunity for a person to decide to be human and every day, many people fail. The people who were involved with taking my license away to practice medicine were all sub-human. And they are the very reason that cancer is still killing people today.”
“Huh? What are you talking about right now?” I asked as I stretched my back to shift positions. “You’re kinda losing me here, dad. What does your not having a medical license have to do with cancer? Actually wait,” I said, interrupting myself and waiving my hand in front of me. “Before you go into that, can we talk about the allegations? I’ve never actually heard that story from your perspective. I’ve only heard mom ranting about the injustice of it all, but she never really gave me any of the details.”
“Well, that is fine. I am happy to do that but before we talk about the allegations, I need to tell you the story that led up to them so that you can understand why I had been targeted.”
“Okay.”
“You see, Potsdam Hospital was riddled with politics from the moment I had arrived in the early seventies. The reason why the pathologist position became available for me to apply for was because the man who had been in that position, Dr. Roberts Senior, had been stealing money from the county lab. Two of his lab technicians had reported him out of spite because they had been trying to become unionized and Roberts had opposed and fired them. So, the two lab techs went to the news media and reported how Roberts had been stealing money all this time. Now, Roberts was very well connected. He was close friends with the Supreme Court Judge and other local politicians and with all the board members at the Hospital. So, instead of firing him, they simply told him he needed to leave town for a few years until everything died down. So, he moved to Long Island and the pathologist position became vacant. Now, at that time, I was among the 3% of pathologists nationwide who was board certified in both clinical pathology and anatomical pathology. Once I set up the labs in Potsdam and Massena, they were both chosen by the State Department of Health to measure the quality of all other labs in small state hospitals. Darian, I could have gotten a job anywhere, but I was drawn to Potsdam because of the Crane School of Music. My greatest dream was to get to know the faculty there and have an outlet for my own music. In fact, I never became friends with anyone in the medical community here once we arrived. They were all Republicans, the White boys’ club. I didn’t belong with them and I was more interested in being part of the university community anyway. They were the free thinkers, the musicians, the intellects, and the philosophers. So, the college faculty members were the people I associated with once we moved here. Most of our family friends, in fact, were connected to the colleges rather than the hospitals. You see, they were all liberal, Democrats, like your mother and me. So, once I was hired, I ran the lab in Canton and the Massena Hospital hired a female Iranian pathologist to run the lab in Massena.”
“Did you have anything to do with Massena hiring another Iranian pathologist?”
“No, that was just a coincidence. Anyway, six years went by and then one of Dr. Robert’s sons, Dr. Roberts Junior, moved back to Potsdam after he had finished his medical residency. He was an internist. His brother, a banker, also lived in Potsdam at the time. So then, Dr. Roberts Senior decided that he wanted to come back to Potsdam to be closer to his children who were older with families of their own now. Then in 1977, an acquaintance of mine, a Jewish doctor at the hospital, who was also being targeted by the way, told me to be careful because he had heard through the grapevine that the hospital’s medical board had promised Dr. Roberts Senior his old job back and that they had agreed to get rid of me in order to vacate the position for him to return. So, in 1978, a year later, the hospital director calls me into his office and tells me they have decided to let me go on absolutely no basis. He told me, ‘if you agree to resign, we will keep you on for six months so that you can find another job. If you say no, I’ll fire you right now.’ So, with little choice, I decided to resign and get into general practice.”
“Why didn’t you just leave Potsdam at that point instead of opening up your practice here?” I asked.
“Because we had the house which I had designed and built, there was Crane, and all of our friends. I wasn’t going to let them bully me out! Anyway, the medical board needed my leaving to look clean and sound reasonable so that I could not make a legal case against them. So, they announced to the medical community that they were going to do a ‘restructuring’ of the labs in the North Country, including both the Potsdam/Canton and Massena labs. They argued that the two labs would be better off managed by one, rather than two pathologists. Then they demanded to be able to have a search process and fire both myself as well as the Iranian pathologist running the Massena lab. Now, the Massena physicians unanimously voted to keep the female Iranian pathologist for this ‘new’ position that had been created with the restructure. But the Hospital Board overrode their decision and hired Dr. Roberts Senior back to take this ‘new’ position so that he could move back to town. Meanwhile, the female Iranian physician goes to Albany to complain to the Board of Regents that she has been fired without cause, but they do nothing. It is useless for both of us.”
“Oh my God, Dad. I can’t believe you stayed in Potsdam after all of this. No wonder mom was so angry all the time. She didn’t even want to move here in the first place.”
“Well, wait until you hear what I have to say next. This is the hilarious part. Six months after Dr. Roberts Senior moved back into the pathologist position, he hired a second pathologist to run the two labs with him again. The whole ‘restructuring’ had been a complete farce! The son of a bitches went right back to the structure that had been in place at the time that they had forced me to resign!”
“So that’s when you purchased the church in Potsdam and opened up your general practice there?”
“Yes. Except by now I had acquired several enemies. In addition to Dr. Roberts and his son, I was also enemies with Dr. Beils and Dr. Fay who were close friends with each other. They both tried very hard to make it impossible for me to open my practice in Potsdam. They wanted me to leave town altogether.”
“Why did they hate you so much?”
“Oh, they were both awful physicians, so stupid. You know, pathologists are in a position to know when a patient has died due to malpractice on a physician’s part. I was never willing to cover up the mistakes of the other doctors in the hospital. And these two idiots, let’s just say, that more than a few people died in this town for no reason under their combined care. Now hospitals are known for shoving these sorts of things under the carpet, and this is just part of hospital politics that every physician has to deal with no matter where you work. You are either willing to play the cover up game or you are not. And if you aren’t, you better have some allies in some high places. But never in my career had I seen so many deadly mistakes being made with patients. It was infuriating! There was one woman in particular who Dr. Beils killed with his own stupidity and I went and told the woman’s family the whole thing and encouraged them to sue Dr. Beils for what he had done.”
“Did they sue him?” I asked.
“No, they chose not to. But after that, Beils and Fay were out to get me for sure. So anyway, when I opened up my private practice, Beils, who was the Chief of the Medical Staff and Department, created a bylaw that stated that I needed to be supervised for three months to be approved for hospital privileges. His goal, of course, was to say that I had failed at the end of the term. That way, I wouldn’t be able to stay in Potsdam. I couldn’t have a private practice here without having any hospital privileges. But Roberts Junior wanted to be Chief of the Medical Staff and Department. So, guess what happened now?” my dad asked, laughing again.
“I have no idea.”
“The medical board, the same people who got rid of me in the first place, now sided with me and used my complaint against Beils to have him fired so that Roberts Jr. could have the Chief of Staff position,” my father said as he began to laugh harder.
“Of course, they did. Oh my God,” I replied, shaking my head in disbelief.
“But it was really a good thing to prevent Beils from remaining Chief of Staff. He was such a crooked man, sinister really. He had the audacity to ‘volunteer’ with the ambulance paramedics rescue squad so that when the ambulance would pull up to the hospital, he could claim all the patients as his own in order to make more money! Sickening!”
“Dad, I never want to go to a hospital again. You’re scaring the shit out of me.”
“Well I don’t recall the hospitals in NYC, New Jersey, or even Ohio to be this bad. I am not kidding when I say that I had never seen anything like this before.”
“Now earlier you mentioned that the hospital board was out to get a Jewish doctor as well. Did it have anything to do with him being Jewish?”
“Yes, I believe it did, because there were actually three Jewish physicians working at Potsdam Hospital at the time I was practicing, and the Board was trying to get rid of all three of them. Darian, the politics and racism in that place were endless. It was a Christian, white boys club trying to get rid of everybody else. And I always tried to fight for justice. I was serving on the Medical Executive Committee and the committee was submitting a complaint that the three Jewish doctors were not attending departmental meetings and should be fired. I turned against the Committee, pointing out that there were several other doctors, who were not Jewish, not attending the departmental meetings. Why were they not being held accountable? Why were their jobs not being threatened?”
“Wow, Dad. I love that you did that. I mean, I really love it, but it’s so clear to me hearing all of this why they tried to run you out of town. You were totally setting yourself up for it, you know that, right?”
My father took a deep breath. It was a hard pill for him to swallow.
“I just couldn’t tolerate injustice and the politics that went along with it. I couldn’t physically tolerate it. It made me sick. So, yes, I chose not to play along. Of course, I know that this is the reason for what ultimately happened to me. I realize that my entire family was forced to suffer because of my inability to play along. I wish that had not been the case.”
“Dad, I just wish you would have moved us out of here once they forced you to resign. That’s the part I resent,” I said, beginning to cry. “You forcing us to all stay here to be subjected to your demise for what? So, you could keep your house? Be close to Crane? You could have built another house. There were other music schools and communities out there.”
“I understand. I don’t blame you for resenting me. It was selfish of me,” my dad said as his voice began to crack.
“No, Dad. I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I’ve never resented you. You were the victim. It’s not fair that you were forced to go through that. And to have the very system that was supposed to protect your rights fail you on purpose because you were Iranian. I can’t even imagine what that felt like for you. Of course, I don’t resent you. I just resent the decision you made. I just wish you would have chosen to leave.”
“Your mother wanted that too. Vedy much so.”
My father and I both sat in silence for a few moments in order to digest all the regret that was resurfacing after all this time.
“I guess I’ll never fully understand why you made the decision to stay,” I finally offered. Of course, it was never my decision to make.” I paused for a moment. The past felt so heavy. It felt like I was suffocating as I listened to my father’s story. I needed to bring our conversation back to the present day. “Are any of those doctors still alive? Is Dr. Roberts Senior still living?”
“No, the first thing he did when he replaced me, is he had the wall fan I had installed in the lab to protect me from the formaldehyde removed. ‘Take this fan down immediately!’ he told the staff. ‘I do not need it!’” my dad said, impersonating him. “He eventually died of lung cancer of course. His cancer diagnosis was probably a mystery to him, though,” my dad said, laughing. “How could I have cancer? I am too stupid to understand how this has happened?”
“That’s not really funny, Dad.”
“Yes, it is actually quite funny, Darian,” he said still laughing. “Why do you have so much love for people, even the bad people?” he asked. “How can you still be so naïve at your age?”
“I’m not saying he wasn’t a racist, bully, asshole. I just…everybody has a story, that’s all. I think when you know a person’s whole story it’s hard to not find forgiveness in yourself. And all of our stories are so intimately connected in ways that aren’t even completely comprehensible. If we could all just somehow automatically know each other’s stories and experiences, feel one another’s pain, we would all be much gentler with each other.”
“You are probably right about that. But, anyway, that was the beginning of the end for me. At first, the three women who brought the allegations against me were trying to go after our money. That’s all it was. It started as a civil suit. But once Patient A’s lawyer saw my written evidence, he told her that she had no legal case and that they would lose. It couldn’t be a criminal case. So, I assumed the whole thing would fall apart once my evidence was presented. I didn’t even bother to hire a private investigator. Friends were actually encouraging me to do this and I said no. I thought it would be a waste of time and money. That is how confident I was that the case would be dropped. So, the Board of Regents sent two physicians and one nurse to interview your mother and I, three of our secretaries, and the three women who were making the allegations against me. The hearings for the three women were done in Canton. My testimony was heard in Syracuse. Again, I assumed it would go in my favor. I had so much evidence against these women, pages and pages of evidence. Your voice teacher at Crane when you were in high school, do you remember her?”
“Jill Ryders?”
“Yes, one of the physicians that came to hear the case was actually her cousin! So, without even telling me, she wrote him a lengthy letter vouching for my innocence, explaining to him that all of my patients loved me and that I was not capable of committing these heinous crimes I was being accused of. She supported me throughout the entire process. In the end when things did not go in my favor, Jill told me about the letter she had sent to her cousin. She showed me a copy of it. It meant so much to me that she had done that on my behalf. When we were talking about it, I’ll never forget how she called her cousin a racist, cocky son of a bitch and told me that she hadn’t been surprised by the fact that he had voted against me.”
My father stopped talking and took a deep breath. I could tell that this part was not going to be easy for him to talk about. I almost felt guilty asking him to do so, but I needed to hear it. I had waited for 30 years to hear his story.
“So anyway, the case was heard by both the Appellate Court and the Court of Appeals. These are the two highest courts in New York State. When the decision to revoke my license to practice medicine was finalized, I was in a state of complete shock. How could educated peers ignore all of the facts? How could they let this injustice take place?”
My father’s body began to tremble, and his eyes began to give way to tears. His license had been revoked 25 years ago yet it still had the power to bring about such a visceral reaction. Have you ever looked into the eyes of an innocent man who has been convicted of a crime he never committed? Those eyes bear the same expression as someone in a horror movie who has just figured out that a presumed loved one or friend is about to murder them. Their eyes shrink in confusion, shock, fear, and horror all at once. It’s as if the truth is so unfathomable that it transforms into a light so bright that it cannot be directly looked at without going blind. I placed my empty teacup onto the floor and took my father’s hands in mine as he continued talking through the shaking that had, all at once, taken over his body.
“So, your mother and I went to talk to the Assistant to the Judge at the Albany Supreme Court. He looked me right in the eyes and told me to give up. He said that this sort of thing happens all the time. He told me that the court had no authority over the Board of Regents who does all of the issuing and revoking of licenses as they please. That was the same trip when your mother and I went to petition the Board of Regents’ decision. But as you already know, all of it was a waste of time. We stood in a line with about 100 other physicians or so who were all there for the same reason, to petition to have their revoked medical licenses reinstated. Not one of those physicians in that line was white! They were all either immigrants or Black. Darian, I still remember when you warned me that that was what we would find there, and I didn’t believe you. You had told me that racism was institutionalized in our country and I had never even heard of such a term, ‘institutionalized racism.’ But you were right. You knew more than I did about these types of things. Perhaps I was the naïve one.”
“Present day lynching, Dad. If we can’t kill them, we’ll take away their livelihoods.”
“That is exactly what they did to me.”
I took a deep breath. “Mmmm,” I said as I shivered. “It just got cold in here.”
“Let me put another piece of wood in the fire,” my dad said as he stood up and walked over to the stove. He grabbed another log, opened the stove door, and placed the log on top of the dying embers.
“Okay, so cancer? What does all of this have to do with finding the cure for cancer?” I asked, my father’s back still facing me.
“Yes, cancer,” my father said, turning around as he walked back towards the sofa to sit down. “It was during a pathology course I took in medical school at Tehran University, when I noticed something in relation to cancer that had not yet been discovered and has still not been discovered by the medical researchers today. This was during my final years of medical school, just prior to my residency.” My father’s voice grew softer and slower as he turned to face me. He looked directly into my eyes as he continued. “While looking at tissues under the microscope during my pathology training, I figured out why a cell goes bad, how it becomes mutated. There were two groups of researchers that came close to making this same discovery using genetic technology in the last several years, but in both cases the researchers veered off in the wrong direction. Darian, your mother is the only person I have ever shared this with.”
“Huh? What the hell are you talking about?” I asked laughing. “You think you have the cure for cancer?”
“No, not the cure itself,” my father answered, “but a theory that would have illuminated a speedy highway towards that cure. That I am certain of, Darian,” he said with confidence.
“Well, tell me about it!” I said as my eyes opened wide with shocked anticipation.
“No, I am not sharing my theory with anybody. Your mother is the only person I shared it with and now that she is dead, my theory will go to the grave with me.”
“Dad, no offense, but you sound completely insane right now. I mean, fine. Let’s just say for argument sake that you do actually, miraculously, have some brilliant theory that could lead to the cure for cancer. If that were really true in some alternate, crazy universe, why in God’s name would you not want to share that theory with the world?” I asked, moving farther away from him on the sofa as my eyebrows smashed together in confusion.
“I…do not…owe…humanity…anything!” he responded, his voice growing louder with each word. “After what this society has put me through in this country, I will have no part in relieving the misery and suffering of millions of its people! They can have their cancer, and if their white physicians finally figure out how to cure it, good for them. But I will not help any of them in that quest!”
My face literally froze. I had no idea how much rage he had been suppressing all these years.
“Wow. Okay. Well, that pretty much sucks for the world,” I said sarcastically. “You know Dad, you turn 80 years old this November. Maybe it’s time to let go of all of this hate. I mean, it’s your choice but I gotta say, it’s not very grandfatherly for you to keep your theory from me. I’m not a white physician, I’m your daughter. What if I develop cancer after you die? Or, worse yet, what if my kids get cancer? Juvenile cancer runs on Jason’s side of the family. You know that. You would just let them die?” I asked.
“If that happens, I will tell you my theory. I’m not going to die anytime soon though, so you don’t need to hear it right now.”
My lips formed a circle and I exhaled through them slowly. It wasn’t that I necessarily believed that my father had a theory that would lead to the cancer cure, although, hey, you never know. Perhaps all of the cures and answers humanity seeks already exist among us, but are all simply being held captive, locked away inside these types of man-made impermeable bubbles of hatred, anger, and resentment. Equally horrible, however, was how much it pained me to know that my father wholeheartedly believed that he had a potential cure but was too engulfed in his own rage and resentment to rise above them back towards love.
Hatred is a horrible thing to be a slave to. I was more than familiar with its chains, having been bound to Mark for so many years beyond the actual time he had physically held me captive. It had taken me more than a decade to find my way out of that dark cell, but hatred did not care how long it took because similar to love, it knew no time. Instead, it seemed to eternally force me to dodge its triggers and it never showed me mercy. But even so, the thought of being held captive by it upon embarking on my last years of life, as in my father’s case, and needing more than ever to be equipped with the love it would take to transition towards the reality of my own impending death, seemed far more cruel. For me, it had taken the love and kindness of others to release me from that hate. So, upon hearing my father’s story, my own quest became to release him from his hatred as well. If in doing so, I could help the rest of the world, and perhaps even stumble upon a grain of information that could potentially help in the cure for cancer, well that would simply be the icing on the cake.
“How about we revisit this conversation again later?” I asked.
“That is fine, but I’m not going to tell you my theory no matter how much we talk about it. I know you. The first thing you would do is share it with the world.”
“Okay, that’s fine. Let’s just talk about this some other time. I’m more worried about you right now than knowing your theory. There’s a lot we have to get done this afternoon. How about I call those students and see if I can get them to stop by the church tonight to take a look at it?”
“Yes, let’s call them and get that set up.”
The students agreed to meet my dad and me at the church early that evening. A lot was riding on the meeting as there had been no other calls to see the property. My father and I pulled into the driveway of his church, where his medical practice had once been housed. He and my mom had been renting the space to college students for the past 20 years as a way to earn income once my father lost his license to practice medicine. Every year, the rental property yielded approximately $22,000 and that is what my parents had been living off of. But they still felt fortunate, nonetheless, to have this income despite all the hassle that renting housing to college students entails. Young people are capable of incredible amounts of property damage, so each May my parents were left with the arduous task of bringing the property back to a state where it could be rented yet again, a cleanup and repair process that always took most of the summer to complete. The physical labor alone that this job required was beginning to wear on my father so my hope was that I could convince him to sell the property as well as his house and have him move in with my family in Maryland.
“They are not here yet,” my father said as we got out of the car. “Very often, the students don’t even show up to their appointment so we may have no luck,” he continued.
“Well, let’s just go inside and they’ll hopefully show up soon,” I responded. “We’re actually a little early so they may still come.”
The church was beginning to show its age. There is a gorgeous river rock foundation that crawls up four feet around its entire perimeter. Above that is natural cedar siding, stained a dark brown color. Most of the windows are still the original stained, glass windows that were designed for its use as a Nazareth church. A brass bell still sits in its steeple. My parents had replaced the original roof with a brown tin roof ten years earlier. We walked through the back door, which leads to a staircase that takes you up to the five-bedroom apartment. Once we reached the top of the stairs, I noticed that the stained, glass window that used to exist in the top half of the apartment door had been replaced with plexiglass.
“Dad, what happened to the door?”
“The students trashed it.”
“Oh, my God. That door was so beautiful. Stupid idiots!”
We walked into the apartment and my dad turned on the lights, illuminating parts of my past that I had not thought about in ages. Then my dad walked me through the entire building showing me all of the repairs he had made over the years. After about fifteen minutes, we finally heard the voice of a twenty-something-year-old male coming from the back door.
“Hello? Can we come in?” the voice asked.
“Yes!” I hollered back. I rushed out of the living room towards the back door to greet the potential renters.
“Hi, I’m Chad. This is Steve, Mike, and Matt. Robbie wasn’t able to come tonight but he said we could decide for him. Is that okay?”
“Sure, that’s fine. I’m Dee, it’s so nice to meet you,” I said. My father was keeping a low profile and stayed in the back room, listening in as I gave my tour. “So, you guys are all at Potsdam State?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Chad replied. He appeared to be in charge of the group, so I continued to talk to him as the other guys followed us around.
“I went there many years ago,” I admitted.
“Oh yeah?” Chad asked.
“Yup. Had some great professors. What are you majoring in?”
“Philosophy. I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to do with it, but it’s my favorite subject.”
“Well, stick with it then. It’ll come together for you. Just keep moving towards the things that interest you and that you excel in. I’m sorry, I work as an Academic Advisor, so you’ll have to forgive me if I get too advicey.”
“No, that’s fine. I can use all the advice about school that I can get,” Chad replied.
I smiled at him and began to explain what the young men had come to learn.
“Well, as you know the property has five bedrooms. My dad and I are asking for $1,700 per semester per student, which is very competitive. I really think this location has a lot to offer. You’re close to the college, yet you’re not right in the middle of it all so it’s a little more private. There’s a laundry machine and dryer in the basement, which I’ll show you in a minute. And, you have a parking lot!” I emphasized. “That’s pretty awesome, right?” I asked.
“Yeah, that’s great!” Chad said. As he nodded his head, I noticed him tap his foot and slap his thighs with a quick rhythm out of the corner of my eye. It only lasted a second, but it was enough. It was at that moment that I realized that these five guys would rent the Church. I was about to close this deal in a heartbeat. I turned back to Chad with a smile.
“You’re a drummer and I bet you guys are all in a band together, am I right?” I asked.
“How did you know that?” Chad replied looking utterly shocked. He turned to the other guys and put his hands in the air as he shrugged his shoulders at them.
“I have something I want to show you,” I said, my voice growing upbeat as I motioned them to follow me down the staircase leading to the basement.
“No seriously, how did you know I was a drummer?”
“Oh, I can spot a drummer a mile away,” I said laughing. “Actually, I caught you drumming on your legs. My son does that all the time. He’s an eight-year-old drummer.”
“Oh, cool!”
“Yeah, I actually used to sing in a band myself back in college. We used to play at Maxfields a lot. Ever play there?”
“Yeah, we play there all the time.”
“Well, you’re gonna love what I’m about to show you!” I said as I brought them into the basement where previous students had decorated it as a lounge with couches and a bar. “This space is perfect to practice and perform in! And with the parking lot, your friends will have a place to park their cars so that they can watch you guys jam out.”
“Holy shit!” Chad yelled, looking around. “This place is fucking awesome! Oh, sorry Ma’am, I didn’t mean to swear.”
“It’s fine, I swear all the time,” I replied while trying to recover from the “Ma’am.”
“Guys come check this out!” Chad yelled to the others who looked just as impressed as he did.
“I’d put your drum set right here in this corner,” I said to Chad, hoping to help them all visualize the space as their own.
“Yeah, that’s definitely the spot for the set,” Chad replied. “Oh, man I’m totally ready to sign the contract right now but I promised my parents I’d talk to them first. Can we have like a day or two? Do you have other students who are interested in renting this place?”
“Well I’m actively showing the property, but if anyone makes an offer, I can definitely give you a heads up,” I responded.
“All right,” Chad said nervously. “Guys, let’s make this happen. Dee, thank you so much! This place is perfect. I’ll be in touch tomorrow just to let you know where we’re at. Is that okay?”
“Sounds perfect. I really hope it works it out. I think you guys are the perfect fit for this place,” I said smiling.
“Me too!” Chad said. Then he led the four others back upstairs and out to their car.
I heard my dad’s accent from across the room and it stunned me. I had forgotten he was even there.
“Nobody had any questions for me?” my dad asked.
“Dad! Where have you been?”
“I was upstairs waiting.”
“Well, good news. I think you’re coming back to Maryland with me next weekend,” I said, stunned by how easily everything seemed to be falling into place.
“They are going to rent?”
“I think so. They’ll call us tomorrow, but I’m pretty sure it’s gonna happen.”
“Fantastic!”
“I know, right? That was kind of out of a fairy tale. It was like when Missy called me while I was on the train.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. You’re going to think this sounds crazy but…”
“What? You think your mother is pulling strings from this so-called heaven that does not exist?”
“Forget it. I’m just grateful that it worked out so nicely.”
On our way back home, my father and I stopped at Walmart to pick up the stuff we needed to make dinner. I felt like I was making things happen for my dad, like I was serving a purpose. It turned out that feeling useful was making grieving my mom more bearable.
“Hey, I just had an idea,” I said to my dad as we were driving home.
“What is it?”
“I should take some pictures of the stuff you want to sell while I’m here. I can teach you how to sell it on Ebay. That could be a little extra income for you.”
“I don’t know how to use Ebay,” my dad said sounding doubtful.
“It’s easy. I can show you while I’m here. We should try selling something on there this week so that I can show you how to do it.”
“Like the dining set?” my father asked. “That is mid-century Danish furniture. The designer was well known at the time we purchased it. I don’t need it for anything. I’m not going to have guests over for dinner now that your mother is gone.”
Although his statement was sad, the idea of helping him make money off this new reality somehow put me at ease. And I think it made us both feel a sense of control over something that was so clearly out of our control. If we could turn our grief into productivity, perhaps it would keep us emotionally afloat for a while.
Once we were back home, I walked into the kitchen. My mother’s royal blue Williams Sonoma apron was still hanging over the chair she used to sit at for meals. My hands began to shake as I pulled her apron over my head, and the tears began to stream down my cheeks as I tied the apron behind my back to hold it in place. I decided to give into the emotions for a few moments while my father was upstairs getting changed. I eventually composed myself as I pulled a bag of basmati rice out of one of the Walmart bags. Then I grabbed a medium sized pot out of the cabinet from under the stove along with the measuring cup and waited for my father to return. I’m not sure how long I stood there waiting. Time felt strange, different, while I was grieving. And looking down at my body wearing my mother’s apron made the whole experience all the more surreal. It was a bit jarring how easily I had managed to morph into my mother temporarily to help my dad rent out the church and learn how to cook. But how long would I be expected to replace her? I wondered if my temporarily filling in for my mom was helping my father grieve, if it was making the transition to life without her less harsh. Perhaps it was for both of us. Still, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep up the impersonation indefinitely. I would eventually have to just be me again, a daughter, wife, and mother to my own children. How was I going to be able to blend all these roles together with my father living so far away from me? The thought caused me to hold my breath for a moment.
My father returned downstairs wearing his pajamas and a fur hat which had been his signature leisure outfit for as long as I could remember.
“Let me put some more wood into the stove and then I will learn how to make rice!” my father said with determination. After tending the fire, he spent the next 45 minutes standing next to me in the kitchen with a clipboard taking various notes as he watched me cook. In addition to the rice, I demonstrated how to steam veggies and broil fish.
“So, on the fish I just put olive oil, lemon, and dill. Is that right?” he asked as he jotted down his notes.
“Yup, that’s it. And salmon is super healthy and it’s one of your favorite dishes. See how simple it is to make?”
“Yes, it’s not that complicated for you. But there is a lot happening here. There are several things cooking all at the same time.”
“Yeah but everything we’re making right now only takes about 15 minutes to cook so you don’t have as much to keep track of with this meal. It’s all gonna be done at the same time,” I gently argued; trying to help him feel like cooking a meal was within reach.
“But I don’t remember when the 15 minutes began. Are you keeping track?”
“Yes. We started cooking at 7:20, so at 7:35 we can start checking on everything. We should get you a timer the next time we go to Walmart.”
“Yes, we can go back tomorrow,” said my dad, his eyes widening with hope.
“How many times a week do you go there, Dad?”
“Oh, several. Sometimes I go twice in one day if it is a slow day. But if I am composing music or working on one of my books, I will only go twice that week.”
“Sounds like that’s really your social outlet, huh?”
“Of course, it is. Where else is there to go in Potsdam?”
After dinner, my dad did the dishes so that I could get onto Google chat and talk to my children. Jason answered while the kids jumped up and down behind him in the screen.
“Hey, Mommy!” Jason answered, his eyes and mouth opening wide with exaggerated excitement for the kids’ sake. Jason’s face is always super expressive, but it seemed to take on a whole new level of animation once it was framed inside my small iPad screen. The shock of it caused me to let out a little laugh.
“Hi Everybody!” I yelled back. Then the kids began to fight over who was going to get to talk to me first.
“Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of time to talk!” I assured them.
“Mommy, I lost a tooth at lunch today!” Jacob interrupted. “There was blood everywhere!” I desperately wanted to see his eyes as he opened his mouth wide to show me the new gap in his smile. Seeing his eyes would have, of course, required him to look directly into the camera, which seemed like a lot to ask of an eight-year-old boy who was missing his mother, so I let it go.
“Wow, was it painful?” I asked.
“No, this one didn’t even hurt. It just fell out. I was just sitting there and all of a sudden it just fell out! I had to go to the nurse’s office!”
“Well did she give you the little plastic treasure chest to put your tooth into?”
“Yeah, I got a blue one this time.”
“Okay, make sure to put it on my dresser so I can add it to our collection.”
“I will. Mommy, when are you coming home? I want you here.”
“I really want to be there, honey. Papa’s surgery went really well and he’s feeling a little better, but I’m probably going to need to stay here for a bit longer, okay?”
“Okay, Mommy. Tell Papa I hope he gets better fast. Guess what?” Jacob asked.
“What, honey?”
“No, it’s my turn now, Jacob!” Chloe asserted.
“Jacob, one more thing and then Chloe gets to talk.” I added.
“Okay, this is the last thing. I dreamt about Justin Bieber last night! We were performing on stage together. Do you think that’ll ever happen in real life?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. It’s really hard to meet famous people,” I replied back to him like I did every night when he asked that same question as I tucked him into bed.
“Well, do you think I’ll ever get to meet him?”
“I can’t really say yes or no because you just really never know what’s gonna happen in the future. But I guess it could possibly happen.”
“I really want to meet him, Mommy!”
“I know you do, honey. I really hope it happens someday. I know how much you want that.”
“Maybe I’ll dream about him again tonight!”
“Yes, we can all dream about Justin Bieber tonight!” Jason added. “So, let’s say goodnight to Mommy and get into bed so that we can all start dreaming about Justin Bieber together.”
“Okay, I love you Mommy!” Jacob said.
“I love you too!!! You’re my favorite boy ever!” I replied with a tad of desperation in my voice, as I watched Jason hand Chloe the iPad before whisking Jacob away.
As soon as Chloe looked at me, her whole face crumpled up in silence for four beats, then, broke out into her soft, breathless cry. That is exactly how she has always cried from the time she was a baby, whether it be in response to Jason and I not letting her buy yet another water bottle at Target or, in this moment, as she tried to get used to being away from me for the very first time. It’s always been heartbreaking to watch. When it happens in Target, it makes my voice raise an octave and my wallet open simultaneously as I kneel beside her in the checkout line. I’ve gotten better at holding it together and saying no while she has her gentle breakdowns but this time it was entirely different.
“Baby, no,” I said in my ‘Chloe octave.’ “It’s okay, I’m right here. Is everything all right?” I asked.
Chloe shook her head no.
“We sure miss each other a lot, don’t we,” I offered as a statement rather than a question.
Chloe shook her head yes.
“Well, I’m so glad I learned about this little trick people can do when they miss someone! Can I teach it to you?” I asked.
Chloe shook her head yes again.
“Okay, I want you to put the iPad on the floor but don’t turn it off, okay? Now go grab a bath towel out of the bathroom and come back.” I had brought a towel downstairs and placed it on my dad’s sofa earlier in the day for this very purpose.
“You’ve got a towel?” I asked, looking into the camera so she would feel like I was really looking at her although I desperately wanted to look at her perfect little image on the screen instead.
Chloe shook her head yes, looking hopeful. My years of practicing lines into a camera while studying acting were finally paying off.
“All right. I want you to wrap the towel around your whole body as tightly as you can. And I’m going to do the same thing.” I wrapped my towel around myself and waited for Chloe to catch up. “Now, we’re going to close our eyes and pull on the towels as tightly as we can. I want you to imagine that you feel us hugging each other. Oh, that feels so nice! Hugging you is my very favorite thing ever!” I said. “Is it working? Can you feel my hug? I’m hugging you so tightly right now. Mmmmmmm! I love you so much! Is it working yet?” I asked.
“Yes, it feels like we’re hugging!” Chloe said back, smiling. I have always found her endless positivity admirable.
“Gosh we are so lucky to know that trick, aren’t we?” I asked.
Chloe’s smile grew even larger as she shook her head in agreement.
“Yay, it works! And we can do this trick whenever we feel like we need a hug. So, what did Daddy make you for lunch today? Was there any fresh fruit in there?” I asked. I had begged Jason before leaving Maryland to make sure the kids had fresh fruit every day.
“Yes, Daddy is making wonderful lunches while Mommy is gone,” Jason answered as he shut Jacob’s door behind him. “All right Chloe, it’s time to say goodnight to Mommy.” Chloe’s face began her silent descent back into break down mode.
“Hold on, Jason. I just need another minute with her. Chloe guess what?” I asked excitedly. The agony on her face relaxed and shifted to an inquisitive expression.
“What?” she asked.
“I have another trick,” I said, putting my hands over my mouth and looking around, pretending I didn’t want anyone else to hear what I was about to tell her.
“What is it, Mommy? Are you going to tell me what it is?” she asked.
“Of course, I am!” Then I whispered while looking into the tiny camera at the top of my screen, “I’m gonna hold an extra pillow in bed with me tonight and pretend I’m holding you. That way, you can be with me all night while I sleep. Would you like to do the same thing?” I asked her.
“Yes,” Chloe said smiling. “I love you so much, Mommy. Seeing you makes my heart so happy.”
“Mine too. We’ll talk like this every night until I come home, all right?”
“All right, Mommy,” Jason said in unison with Chloe as he took the iPad from her.
“Chloe, get into bed,” he said to her. “It’s way past your bedtime. I’ll be there after I’m done talking to Mommy.”
Jason looked back at his screen and let out a long breath.
“How are things going?” he asked me once Chloe was in her room.
“Fine.”
“Just tell me when you’re ready to come back. I’ve cleared my calendar for the next two weekends. My mom can watch the kids while I come get you.”
“Thanks. I can’t wait to come home. It probably won’t be this weekend though. We’re not even gonna have my mom’s remains until next week sometime. I want to be here when that happens.”
“Of course. All right, well next weekend then.”
“Okay. Thanks for handling everything while I’m gone. And I’ll call a little earlier tomorrow,” I said. “Make sure you have the iPad with you.”
“I will. Try to get some sleep.”
“Just one more thing before you go.”
“Yeah?”
“So, I snowblowed my dad’s entire driveway today with him! It took us four hours!” I said opening my eyes wide and putting my face right up to the camera for dramatic effect.
“Oh, my God. Isn’t that driveway like 700 feet?”
“800 feet! But we had to take a few breaks, which lasted around 45 minutes each. It was completely insane! And apparently my dad’s been doing this for the past several years. Listen, I’ve gotta try to find someone to plow it for him every time there’s a storm. He’s too old for this shit. I’ve looked up a few people in the yellow pages. I’d like to cover the cost of this. Are you okay with that?”
“I guess. I mean he really shouldn’t be doing that on his own. Good job getting out there though and giving it a try with the snowblower! Did you get any pictures?”
“Yeah, I had my dad take a picture of me.”
“Awesome.”
“You know it was the strangest thing. We were out there for hours but it could have been fifteen minutes. It’s like time doesn’t exist in this place. I can’t believe how much I accomplished today. I had forgotten how much you can get done when you don’t have kids.”
“Well, yeah it’s gotta be strange. No job, no kids, just you and your dad in your childhood home. Your mom just died. It’s gotta feel totally weird.”
“Yeah, weird. That’s a good word.”
“Well, it’s probably good for you to stay busy right now,” Jason said. Then he paused and looked directly into the camera. “Everybody misses you.”
“I miss you guys too. It’s kind of nice just talking like this with you. We never get to talk anymore. We’re both so busy all the time.”
“Well, we’ll have a whole eight hours of uninterrupted talk time when I come get you. I’m looking forward to it. It’s just tough sometimes with the kids, you know?”
I nodded my head in agreement then looked into the camera.
“I know. Night,” I said.
“Night.”
The next morning Chad called as I was taking pictures of my father’s dining set. He and his bandmates had decided to rent the church, so we planned to meet on campus at the Student Union at 3pm. I let him know that all five of them needed to be present to sign the lease.
“Papa we did it!” I said excitedly to him, hitting the steering wheel as we drove to Potsdam State later that afternoon.
“No, you did it! I haven’t done anything,” he said, laughing. “You are quite a salesperson. I can’t believe the first group to see it decided to rent it! It is a good thing too, because there were no other calls. It has never been this bad before. But at the same time, you made it very simple for me.”
“Ah, c’mon! Bruce and Dee. We make a good team, don’t you think?”
“Yes, vedy much so. We always have. This is really a vedy big relief for me, Darian.”
“Me too,” I said as we pulled up to the visitor parking lot across the street from the Union. “God, this place has changed. There are so many more buildings now.”
“Yes, we should drive by the new Arts Building. It’s very impressive.”
“All right, on our way back. Let’s just get these contracts signed and then we’ll go celebrate!” I said.
“Sounds perfect.”
As soon as we walked into the Student Union, I felt a slight flutter move through my chest as I recalled my time spent in that very building twenty-five years earlier. I walked towards the middle of the lobby and turned around slowly, studying the walls, the students, feeling the energy that all Student Unions seem to possess. I’ve spent a considerable amount of time in Student Unions over my twenty-year career working at universities.
“Does it bring back memories?” my dad asked.
“Does it ever! Wow.”
“Are we early?” he asked.
“No, we’re right on time. I think that’s them coming in now.”
Chad and the four others walked across the room towards us.
“Hi Chad! Hey guys. So, are you excited about your new living space?” I asked as they approached my dad and me.
“Definitely! That place is awesome!” Chad replied.
“Well, I’m so glad this worked out. I’d like to introduce you all to my dad. Everybody, this is Bruce.” The guys all shook my dad’s hand. “So, he’s officially your landlord on the lease,” I continued. “I brought ten copies for everyone to sign. You’ll each be getting a copy as well.”
Once Chad signed his copy I asked if I could talk to him for a minute as I pulled him aside.
“So, Chad I just wanted to let you know that I actually live in Maryland. But I’d really like to stay in touch with you if that’s all right. If you wouldn’t mind kind of serving as a liaison between the other renters and I, it might just make things easier.”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Chad said.
“Great, thanks. Well, you have my number. As you can see, my dad’s not a young guy and he actually just lost his wife so he may be spending some time with me in Maryland this winter as well. We’re not sure yet. But if there’s anything that you need, and you’re unable to get a hold of him, I want you to feel free to give me a call.”
“Absolutely. I appreciate that.”
“And one last thing, musician to musician, can I get you to agree that you guys will go easy on the place? I want you to have a great time in there and make some awesome memories, but I’m also really hoping I can count on you to take responsibility for the property. There is a clause in the lease regarding property damage, so we can legally hold on to your deposit depending on the extent of the damage. But honestly, I really like you guys so I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”
“No, I get it. We’ll treat it well, I promise.”
“Great! That means a lot,” I said as I began to back up towards the group.
“So, does anyone have any questions? Nothing?” I asked, smiling at our five new tenants. “Okay…well that was quick. Congratulations guys! Make some good music in there!”
I shook everybody’s hand and my dad waved goodbye as the five college students walked away, signed leases in hand, towards the Union cafeteria.
“Congrats, Dad,” I said with relief as I spun around and gave him a long hug. “We’re gonna be okay. Should we go to the Thai restaurant to celebrate?” I asked, pulling away from our hug to see the look on his face.
“Yes, absolutely!” he said with a big smile.
“Okay, let’s go.”
As I turned around to head out, I caught a glimpse of a young woman running out of the bookstore, her arms full of new textbooks as she ran towards the sunlight streaming in through the front doors.
“Darian! Where are you going? What time am I supposed to pick you up?”
The voice instantly grabbed hold of me as I felt its familiarity pierce through my heart. It was my mother. I turned back towards the bookstore and there she was, young and healthy as ever. Her sunglasses were flipped up on top of her head, holding her hair back as she stood there with her arms reached out in confusion.
“I have to go to class! I’m gonna be late!” the young woman replied. “Just pick me up here at 4:00. I’ll be waiting outside!” she yelled as she spun around and ran off. I picked up my pace to keep up with her but stopped and stood there frozen once I got to the front doors. It was me that I was watching, my younger self, running out into the campus on that lovely August afternoon. It was then that my mother walked up beside me in the doorway, stopped for a moment right next to me to adjust her bag higher on her shoulder, and pull the sunglasses back down on her face before heading outside. I could even smell the scent of her hair as I watched her walk away.
“Mom!” I yelled out to the figure that was now moving farther away from me outside towards her car. “Mom!” I cried. But she couldn’t hear me. How could she? Perhaps if I ran outside, I could still catch up to my younger self and have it all back, my mother, the thrill of attending my first college class, and David. I could have David back too. But I didn’t have a moment to waste if I wanted to be on time. I could barely imagine anything worse, after all, than showing up to my first college class late.
“Darian! Where are you going?” my father called out, still standing in the same spot where we had all signed the leases just moments before. The paperwork was tightly clasped in his right hand as he waved out for me to stop. But it was too late. I was already gone, chasing the happiness that always comes with new beginnings, even if that beginning was intimately tied with the pain that forever lived in my past.