Eileen Slovak

Chapter Twenty-nine: A Dad Dilemma

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and locales are products of the author’s imagination. They are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is coincidental. Copyright © 2024 by Eileen Slovak.

Bob

This is the day I struggle with the most. On holidays I can distract myself enough not to dwell. It’s easier with the chatter of grandchildren, the warmth of a good meal with my daughters. They try their best to maintain the family traditions in Mary’s absence. Catherine made a lovely meal, but I left right after dessert, saying I was tired. My night vision’s not what it used to be, plus it’s a long drive. All I need is to hit a deer or something stupid like that. It’s good to be back in my little house in Snug Harbor, where it’s quiet.

      I’m tired of missing Mary, even more tired of living alone. In a sense, she’s still with me every day. Even though she never lived in this house, her presence lingers. She’s all around me in the furniture, the dishes, clothing she purchased that I still wear. I’m grateful for the way she still permeates my life. It’s comforting at times. I’m afraid I’ll forget her. This is what holds me back from making a change in my personal life. I’m trying to sort out how to move on. I’ve dated a few women. They always wanted more than I wanted to give at the time, so it didn’t work out. Carlene is different. She’s a friend.

      Scarlet’s calling. If I don’t answer, she’ll worry.

      “Hi sweetheart. Yes, I’m fine. Yes, Catherine made shrimp scampi. It was very good. Un, huh. I promise, I’m fine. In fact, I have company at the moment, Scarlet. Do you mind if I call you tomorrow? No, it’s not Mike, it’s a friend. Okay, take care. You too.”

      “It’s so nice how your daughters look out for you,” Carlene says.

      “It is. Maybe they fuss a little too much. Can I get you a beer, or glass of wine? I picked up some of that Rose you like at the mini mart.”

      “Oh, Bob, a glass of wine would be lovely.”

     Carlene’s my new neighbor from three houses down. We talked about the anniversary when I saw her last week. So when she saw me pull into the driveway, she came by to check on me. She’s sweet that way. Carlene’s bright, attractive with a great sense of humor. I enjoy spending time with her. Like Mary was, Carlene’s ten years younger than me, but at our age that really doesn’t matter much. We met last Fall. I was working in the garden when she came by walking her little dog, Molly. Molly’s a Bichon Frise with cream-colored, curly hair and charcoal eyes. I’ve never been very fond of small dogs, but Molly’s a peach. She rarely barks unless she has a darn good reason.

      Carlene brought over a casserole and a plate of brownies. We both just ate, so I put the casserole in the refrigerator. I leave the brownies on the kitchen counter for later. I pour some wine for Carlene, grabbing a beer for myself.

      “Those brownies look delicious. Thank you.”

      “It’s the least I can do.”

      “Can Molly have a biscuit?” I ask.

      Molly’s laying down in front of the chair next to Carlene’s feet, resting her head on her paws. She perks up when she hears the word biscuit; smart as a whip.

      “She’s getting spoiled coming here. But I’m sure she’d love one.”

      Molly sits up wagging her tail. I have a glass cookie jar on the counter for Molly’s treats. She keeps her eyes on me but doesn’t beg, just waits with the patience of a saint.

      “Here you go Molly Malone.” She gently takes the treat from my hand. When I pat the top of her head, she settles down to eat it. Her coat reminds me of the Irish knit sweater I keep in my closet for chilly days. That’s how she got the nickname.

     Had they ever met, I think Mary would have liked Carlene. She has a good nature, she’s upbeat. Spending time with her I feel twinges of things I haven’t felt in years. Carlene and Molly have started joining me on my daily, late-afternoon walks. We enjoy meals at one another’s homes on occasion. When needed, I help Carlene with some small repairs at her house. I know she’s divorced but I’ve never asked her what happened. I figure if she wants to tell me about it, she will. For the time being, we’re good friends, companions. I’m not sure how the girls will view the situation, but I’m not going to trouble myself about it either. I’ll introduce them when the time is right.