* * *
.
It’s been sixweeks since they arrested my father and hauled him away for thesecond time. Because of court proceedings, I was only able to havebrief visits while he was waiting for trial. Now, he’s back inMatsqui but this time, he’s not in the main prison, he’s in theRegional Treatment Center on the prison grounds. Katie and I aregoing to see him this afternoon.
Life has beensurprisingly good for us since that night at the bar. Initially,there was a lot of media coverage about Slinky, Tank and Fournier’sdeath, but after a week or so, more current news took itsplace.
Even though mydad isn’t here at the apartment with us, I don’t feel sad. Becausebeing in a medical prison facility, he’s getting help with his painand is in relatively good spirits considering he’s so emaciated andweak. Just yesterday he called me and told me that he doesn’t mindbeing locked up because this time, he’s actually guilty. Plus, hefeels that he did society a favor by killing Slinky and Tank. Dadsays that if they had lived, they would’ve just continued to doevil. I can’t argue with that.
ChapterSixteen
Katie is in thebedroom getting ready for our drive up the Fraser Valley to visitDad. With only a few minutes to spare, I use the washroom to brushmy hair and put on some make-up. I hear my cell ring in the livingroom and ask Katie to grab it. Ed is probably calling to offer meanother case. It’s been busy lately at work. It seems like as soonas I get through one job, he’s handing me another.
When I’mfinished getting ready, I walk out of the bathroom and see Katie atthe end of the hall. Her face is pale and drawn. She looks upset asshe speaks into the phone. By the time I reach her, the call hasended and she holds my cell out to me.
“What is it?” Iask nervously.
“It’s, John.I’m so sorry, Jules,” she says, breaking into tears.
I take my phonefrom her and walk over to sit on the couch. There’s a part of methat’s devastated. I lost my only living family member, my dad. Andthen there’s the other part of me that is grateful that he’s nolonger suffering. All his pain is gone now. As I sit and stare outthe window looking at the grey, dismal sky, in the distance, I seea small break in the clouds where blue is showing through.Instantly, I remember my father and me at the graveyard, kneelingover Mom’s and Abby’s graves. I remember what he said, “I’ll seeyou soon, my girls.”
Warm tearsstream down my cheeks.
Katie sitsbeside me, “I’m sorry you’re sad, Jules.”
“I’m not,” Isay, looking in her eyes. “I’m happy.”
* * *
The greyovercast has been replaced with a clear night sky. The call wereceived about Dad just hours ago has left a somber energy in theapartment. Katie and I call Charlie to come over and we share thenews. Charlie told us that even though he hadn’t known my dad long,Johnwas like a best friend to him.
“Dad liked youa lot, Charlie.” I say, patting his shoulder. Katie and I promisehim that we’ll invite him over a couple of times a week for dinnerand socializing. He smiles and seems happy about that. When Charlieshuffles back to his apartment, I decide to take Katie for a driveto clear our heads. In the truck, I turn on an easy listeningstation and gasp when I hear what song is playing -Aupres de MaBlonde, the song my father used to whistle. My heart feels bothlight and heavy as I drive toward Second Beach.
I park in thesame spot by the shore where I parked with Dad on our visit here.Then, Katie listens while I tell her about how when my parents wereyoung, they would come here at night, strip off their clothes andgo skinny-dipping. She laughs, looks out the window for anyonlookers then starts undressing. “What the hell are youdoing?”
“I’m doing thisas an homage to your dad,” she says, sliding out of her jeans.
“Katie, are youkidding me?”
“Nope,” shesays, now totally naked.
“Don’t becrazy.”
She pushes openthe door and runs on the sand toward the water.
Oh, shit. Iguess I forgot to mention that when my parents did this, it wassummer. Shaking my head and laughing, I quickly peel out of myclothes and open the truck door. “This one’s for you, Dad.”
The End
Jay Lang booksalso published by BWL Publishing Inc.
Hush
Jay Lang grewup on the ocean, splitting her time between Read Island andVancouver Island before moving to Vancouver to work as a TV, filmand commercial actress. Eventually she left the industry for aquieter life on a live-a-board boat, where she worked as a clothingdesigner for rock bands. Five years later she moved to Abbotsfordto attend university. There, she fell in love with creative writingand wrote five novel manuscripts in a year. She spends her dayshiking and drawing inspiration for her writing fromnature.
