A Man Named Dave

telling me to look into … “The closet!” I exclaimed. “You want me to look in the closet?”
    I searched Father’s face for any type of reaction. It seemed as if he was committing whatever strength he had on leaning toward the closet. I jumped from the bed and flung open the door. Neatly hung were a pair of worn pants, a pressed shirt, and a heavy overcoat. My eyes darted to the bottom of the closet. I searched for Father’s Pan Am travel bag he had used to pack his belongings when he worked at the fire station. All I could find was a pair of scuffed shoes, brushed off and placed neatly together. An odd sense of fear began to overtake me as I flung open the drawers, only to find a pair of white socks. No clothes, papers, wallet, and no fireman’s badge. I turned to Father, shaking my head. In a moment of stillness, as he kept his eyes locked onto mine, I understood what he was trying to convey.
    I gave Father a slight nod before my hands patted down his coat. Part of me felt jittery for invading, of all things, my father’s privacy, while a deeper side couldn’t wait to find his prize. I found a set of official-looking papers that I stuffed into my back pocket without thinking. I could read them later. The only thing that mattered was Father’s badge. After two attempts, I slowed down my pace. I used the tips of my fingers to trace every outline, for any opening, while I studied Father’s face. I felt a small bulge. Without looking I yanked out a small, black-leather casing.
    “Is that your father’s –?” Mrs Turnbough began to ask.
    “Yeah.” I interrupted as I opened the small case, revealing the silver emblem inches in front of Father’s twitching face.
    Immediately his breathing eased. While holding his badge, I began to feel the magnitude of what it meant to him. The only thing that represented Father’s adult life – besides his broken marriage – was what I now held in my hand. Father shut his eyes as if in concentration. I then noticed his lips quivering. I bent my head down, but much as I tried, I could not decipher any sounds escaping his mouth. When his eyes blinked open they again locked onto mine. Out of fright I shook my head. “I don’t know!” I snapped. “I don’t know what you’re trying to …” Suddenly I felt the slightest sensation on my right hand. Glancing down, I saw Father’s bony crimson fingers wrapped around my hand clutching his fireman’s badge. As my hand began shaking from Father’s trembling, he sealed my fingers around the black leather case. Searching his eyes, I understood. I whispered into his ear, praying he could hear me, “As God is my witness, I will protect and keep your badge. I will carry it as a sign of honor.”
    As Father’s grip eased, I could tell he had fallen asleep. Before his fingers could slip away, I kissed his hand. Standing beside his bed, I gently laid Father’s vibrating hand on his chest. Turning toward the door, I saw Steve standing beside Alice. “He’ll be able to rest now. You’ve made him very happy. He told me months ago, when he checked in, that he wanted you to have it.” We both looked down at my right hand, still clutching Father’s badge. “It’s the right thing to do,” he said in a broken voice. “Today was a good day for your father. A very good day.”
    “How do you – I mean, I don’t know if he can understand me. If he could just talk –”
    “He is talking,” Steve replied, “and you’re learning to listen. It’s hard, but as long as he knows you’re there, beside him, that’s all that matters.”
    “He’s not … my dad’s not going to … to make it?” I cried, choking on the words. Staring at Father, I felt as if a sledgehammer crushed my skull. “He’s going to die,” I whispered to Alice. Instantly, out of humiliation, I gasped, slapping my hand against my mouth. I couldn’t believe I had uttered those words. Up until that exact moment I had still held out for some dramatic turn. In some odd sense, I felt that by saving Father from his life of despair, I would in effect save myself.
    Returning to Steve, I stood half frozen. “So, how will I know … when it’s time?”
    “You still have some time. Someone is always watching over your father. We’ll let you know if there’re any changes.” Steve had returned to his official nurse’s tone. “It’s going to be all right.”
    After assurances that Father would be resting for some time, I found myself driving Mr Turnbough’s whale-sized, oxidized blue Plymouth Fury. With Alice beside me, I slowly