A Long, Long Now
by Apocalypticism
The sky was cruel. It hovered above him, serenely blue in the most horrible way. The air was hot enough to make drawing breath hard. Such a contrast, he thought. The sky looked so cool and refreshing, but it bore down a heat that baked the earth and left everything dry and cracked.
Sid shielded his eyes against the sun. The gas station was only about a hundred yards away, but it might as well have been a hundred miles away. It was more of a question, however, of how he would get back to his car without suffering heatstroke. There was only enough money in his pocket for a few gallons of gasoline.
He entertained the idea of just lying down and dying in the gutter before he passed through the automatic doors into the gloriously cool gas station. Sweat beaded on his neck and forehead, and he had removed his shirt some time ago to allow the non-existent breeze to flow across the most skin possible.
The city surely made this heat worse. The tarred streets seemed to soak up more of the accursed heat, throwing it back and increasing the temperature a thousandfold. Windows everywhere reflected the sun down to the streets. Garbage added its putrid smell to the air. It floated around in horrible cloying clouds.
Sid longed to be out in the country. He longed to have leafy trees shade him, to see flowing water that wasn't the color of tar, to see tall grass swaying in the wind. But he was stuck here in the city. He was stuck for many reasons.
He could blame it on all sorts of people. He could blame it on the liberals for making him pay so many taxes. He could blame it on the conservatives for not allowing him a better wage. He could blame it on the libertarians, the Tea Party, the non-voters. He could blame it on anyone. He decided that the best course of action was to blame it on himself.
Sid himself was at fault for not being able to get a better job. Maybe if he had shown more initiative in school he would be in college at the moment. Maybe if his father had read to him more, or maybe if he understood math, or for a myriad of other reasons, he wouldn't be struggling to keep the shitty apartment he rented.
Whatever the reason, Sid was stuck in a dead end job that he couldn't afford to leave. And now his car was stuck in the middle of the parking lot of a Shop 'n' Save until he made his way back to it with the two gallons of gas he could afford. It wouldn't be a bad thing to cut his losses, Sid thought. He could get at least a grand for the car, and take public transport instead, but then he thought guiltily of his father, who needed to see a doctor in the suburbs that the trains did not go to.
"I need to get this filled," Sid said to the cashier, safe behind glass reinforced with a weaving of metal.
"How much does it hold?"
"I dunno," Sid's brain was addled by the heat. He checked the container. "Two gallons."
"Okay. That'll be nine thirty four," the cashier said. "On pump three."
Sid slid the money under the glass through the metal-covered depression. He dreaded the walk back to his car. He would surely pass out if he didn't get something to drink... but he couldn't afford anything.
"D'you have a bathroom?" Sid asked.
"Yeah, but it's only for employees, most cases."
"Look, man, it's past a hundred out there. I've gotta walk back to my car, just let me go back there and get some water from the sink."
"Sir, we've got water for sale here."
"Don't you think I know that?" Sid hissed. "I woulda bought it if I had enough. Just let me get a drink. I've gotta take my dad to the doctor."
"Okay, okay, fine. This never happened. You're not supposed to go back there, it's in the stock room, straight shot past the doors," the cashier said as she slid the key off her ring and through the opening.
"Thanks," Sid said.
The water, though tasting slightly of metal, was lovely and glorious. Sid used the brown paper towels to wash himself the best he could, then stuck his mouth to the faucet and drank heartily. He felt much better afterward.
"Thank you so much," Sid thanked the cashier as he left. "I didn't shit on the floor or anything weird, I just drank some water."
"Oh, good," the cashier responded in a queer voice.
Sid went out to pump three and filled up the gas canister. He spent a minute or two mentally preparing himself for the trek back. It was hard to concentrate with traffic streaming past, sending blasts of heat against his person.
Finally he gathered will enough to leave the shade. Even though his car was a couple blocks away, the walk seemed to take hours. Sid still longed to be out in the country. Although the city could be called the "concrete jungle" it was not the same, not in the least. Buildings rose out of the razed earth as if they were fetid growths and people in black business suits scurried around like insects. It was disgusting.
Sid eventually reached his car, mind still seething about being trapped here in this lonely, ugly place. Once his car had the meager few gallons of gas inside it, Sid was on his way. If he hurried, there would be time enough to take a quick shower before driving to get his father.
His apartment, although small and cramped, was several degrees cooler than outside, owing credit to Sid's meticulous system of cooling it down at night. Since he was gone during the day most of the time anyway, all the shades were drawn, keeping the winking sun from entering the apartment. Almost all appliances were shut off and quiet, which at the moment was due to his electricity being cut. Sid could deal with that. He had a system.
The shower was nice, but all too quick. Checking his wall clock, Sid saw he had ten minutes to get to his father's house. Quickly, he dressed and went out the door again.
His childhood home had grown shabbier in the few weeks it had been since he was last over. Weeds had overtaken the yard, but they were now withered and dead due to the heat. More paint than ever was flaking off the walls, and one of the barred windows was broken.
Sid knocked on the door.
"Dad, hey!" he shouted.
His father no longer kept a spare key outside, it was too dangerous. Sid had lost his key a few days back.
Sid could hear his father creaking around the house, and after a few moments, the door swung open. Sid stepped inside, into the cool darkness. His father gave him a nod. Sid did his best to ignore the shaking hands.
"Ready to go?" Sid asked, spinning his keys around his fingers.
"Yeah, I just need to put on my shoes."
Sid looked down to see the sneakers' laces were trailing sadly behind the shoes.
"I can do it, Dad," Sid said.
His father shook his head and shuffled back to the living room. Sid could only watch him fumble with the laces for a couple seconds before he had to turn his head. Several minutes later, his father had gotten up and grabbed his wallet. He gave Sid a curt nod and they left.
"So, you're sure the appointment's at three? I don't have a phone anymore, so they couldn't call," Sid tried to keep his voice light while he weaved through traffic on the highway.
"It's in my appointment book as that," his father responded.
"Okay, Dad," Sid said, silently wishing he had a cell phone.
The city was behind them, growing smaller in the rearview mirror. They were winding their way through the suburbs now, a sad place, Sid thought. It seemed sadder than the city, to live there. There was nothing, just an endless sea of houses with families playing out their lives. The suburbs lacked the will and heart that the city, as ugly as it was, managed to posses.
Silence filled the car. Sid hated his father's music, and his father hated his music, so it was easier to make these drives in silence. It also gave Sid a chance to listen to his car, which had started to make a keening sound at high speeds.
A scuffling noise made Sid glance over. His father was attempting to get a cigarette out of the pack. Sid held his tongue, and was glad he did, as a few minutes later his father had gotten the cigarette out and lit.
"I wish you wouldn't, I'm tryin'na quit," Sid said.
"It doesn't matter to me any more," his father said.
"It's not a death sentence, Dad."
"It might as well be," his father said softly to himself, as an aside.
Sid pretended not to hear.
After taking the right exit and driving a ways through a tract of undeveloped land, they arrived at his father's doctor's complex. It was a large, sprawling brick building, and out here was the only place they could get a plot of land large enough for it, Sid supposed.
The building was gloriously air conditioned, although it smelled slightly woody, as if the scent of a million tongue depressors had seeped into the walls. Sid escorted his father to the doctor's waiting room, past other practices that shared the same complex.
"Hi," Sid nodded at the receptionist while behind him, his father eased himself onto a couch. "I'm here to check in for Raymond Gifaldi. He's got an appointment at three, with Dr. Weinberg."
The receptionist eyed him for a second, then went and tapped on the computer. "Oh, yes. Yes. Okay. I'll let Dr. Weinberg know you're here."
Sid was relieved that his father had remembered the correct time. He thanked the receptionist before sitting on the couch next to his father. Sid bit his tongue and turned away; he couldn't watch his father try and pick up a magazine. Luckily, a nurse came and called his name. Sid told his father he would be right here when he was done.
The cigarette his father had smoked weighed heavily on Sid's mind. He tapped his foot, ran his hand through his hair, and cursed the fact that he had left his nicotine gum back at home. He knew his father had left his pack in the car. No, Sid told himself. He bit his tongue again.
Finally, he got up and asked the receptionist if she had any gum. She shook her head but pushed a bowl of peppermints across the counter to him. He took five.
Sid was sucking on one of the peppermints and hating his life when Dr. Weinberg came out into the reception area. His eye caught Sid's, so Sid got to his feet, glad for a distraction.
"Your father's seeing one of our physical therapists at the moment. I'd like a word with you in my office, if you don't mind."
"Yeah, no, not at all," Sid nodded.
His heart hammered in his chest as Dr. Weinberg lead him down a stuffy hall and to the left into a cramped office. It was not like Sid imagined a doctor's office. Sid always thought they would be full of shining wood, crammed with medical texts, and possess lots of windows.
This office was tiny, with medical journals thrown onto a table that was jammed against two chairs. The office was carpeted and had no windows. It was lit by a humming fluorescent light, which made it a place that didn't make one feel comforted.
Dr. Weinberg squeezed between the desk and the wall, then sank into his chair. He let a manila folder drop onto the paper carpet on his desk, leafing through it before looking up at Sid.
"You're Raymond's only son, am I right?"
"Yes," Sid said.
"Well... yes. Yes, yes. Okay." Dr. Weinberg gathered himself before launching into speech. "It's been a few weeks since I've last seen him, and his condition's took a sharp decline. The medicine that he's on currently isn't giving him the improvement we hoped, and considering he's been on it for quite some time now and has been declining with each visit... we've decided to put him on Parcopa."
"Okay," was all Sid could say.
"I'm also advising you to start saving now for in-home care, which he will need eventually. It may be in ten years, it may be in three. Each person experiences this disease differently. But in-home care is quite the expense, even if you do have insurance that will help out."
"Okay."
"He and I have decided that he will need to come in more often, perhaps every week now, to monitor how he's handling the new medication. He's also decided to increase his physical therapy, in hope of maintaining motor function. This is all he's authorized me to tell you, but I'm sure he will discuss other things with you if they become pertinent."
"Okay."
Later that evening, he went to meet Stinky at the bar. The night had cooled down considerably. Sid still broke a sweat walking to the bar, but at least it was a manageable sweat, one that would evaporate quickly and not require him to shower again. The bar was empty beside his friend. Not many people out for a drink on a Monday.
"Hey," Sid sat down on the stool next to Stinky.
"Hey," Stinky nodded.
Sid got a beer from the bartender. The sharp, hoppy taste was bitter and disgusting, but the beer was cheap. He hated having cheap things. He would always have cheap things, now that he had to throw away even more of his paycheck to his father.
"You still seein' Amanda?" Stinky peered over at Sid.
"No," Sid shook his head, "no, she... we broke up a while back."
"Gaw'... you were gonna marry her, right?"
"I was gonna ask her. I did, but she didn't want to deal with Dad. Don't blame her."
They sat for a moment in silence. Sid was glad that Stinky didn't call her names, because he probably would have punched him.
"How is he doin'?"
"Not good." Sid took another sip of his beer, feeling the rare treat of alcohol loosen his tongue a bit. "I went with him to the doctor today and he's getting on a new medication that's gonna fuck him up, but keep him walking. I'm going to have to get him in-home care eventually. Jesus," Sid sighed. "Jesus Christ, that's gonna cost."
"Probably not half as much as he's spent on you," Stinky said.
"Yeah, but I wanted to pay him back with vacations and take him huntin' and shit, not with a nurse who'll feed him an' flip him over so he doesn't get bed sores. Christ."
Sid called his mom earlier today, to update her as he always did after a doctor's visit. She just sighed and murmured that she would start saving up too. Sid figured she would only do that to lift some of the burden off him. He was glad of it, but still felt guilty. She had left his father behind long ago, and now here Sid was dragging her back because he didn't know what to do.
Talking to Stinky helped a little bit, but there was nothing else he could do. Sid couldn't ask him for money. Sid couldn't ask him to drive his father to the doctor. He couldn't ask anyone else for help, because this was his father.
"Here, Sid, I'll spot you a tenner to buy beer."
"Nah, thanks, but I gotta work in an hour. Fuck. I'll take that tenner if you'll buy me an energy drink instead."
"Sure, man."
–
Over the next few weeks, the city slowly expended its heat. It went away in increments, leaving each day a little more bearable, although it left the city feeling strangely airless. Rain thundered between the buildings like clockwork for weeks. Sid wondered if the rain was any better. The humidity that came with it clung to him and pressed against his mouth. It was hard to draw breath.
Sid woke up slowly. His head swam, and sleep, still heavy on his eyes, called him back. His bedroom was damp and cloying, partially because of the humidity, but also because a particularly fierce gust of wind had forced rain through his open window.
He rolled over and glanced at his clock. It was four. Sid sat up and groaned. He hated sleeping like this. Get back from work, sleep for two hours, go to check on his father, then come back and sleep for four more hours. That usually left him with an hour or two before he had to go back to work. There was nothing to do anymore. He didn't have anyone to see, or any interests to speak of. Everything was bleak and gray.
The monotony of work was comforting, but when it appeared in other areas of his life he longed to escape it. The machines had a steady, humming beat that filled his mind and kept him from thinking about anything other than if he had filled his quota of stamped plastic parts.
The emptiness of his future stretched vast in front of him. He was sick of the city. A wild space, with vast horizons that the sun dropped down to meet, felt full of opportunity. He didn't want the only scenery he ever saw be the sagging grass around the doctor's office. The city kept him chained to the manacle that was his father.
As he sat down to a dinner of runny eggs and black toast, Sid thought about everything that lay before him. He had only put away a couple hundred dollars in a savings account for the day when his father required around the clock care. The idea of saving up thousands of dollars seemed impossible. He had given up meat and coffee, as well as hot showers. He had begun walking everywhere, even if he would have to leave an hour early to get there on time. Sid didn't rent movies any longer, and he stopped getting the paper.
The idea of continuing on this existence for the next several years just about killed him, but he would do it. He had begun training to become a supervisor at work. It would come with a minor pay raise and health insurance, which was a plus. The only downside was that he would have to wait until one of the already existing supervisors quit or got fired. That could take years.
The phone ringing startled Sid out of his thoughts. He rose to his feet and shuffled over to the refrigerator, reaching behind it to lift the phone out of its cradle.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Sid, it's Mom." Sid felt relief wash through him. Talking to his mother always made him feel better about things, even if she couldn't help at all. "I'm just calling to see how things are going. I haven't heard from you in a while. Are you still doing okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay," Sid said. He knew that she didn't mean okay, she meant okay. "How are things over there?"
"They're fine. We've been getting a lot of rain. Have you?"
"It's been raining all week, yeah."
"Hmm. I've been thinking, I've been thinking, why don't you come up for a visit? I haven't seen you in so long, Sid. It would be nice to see you."
Sid remained quiet for a moment, then said, "I'd love to Mom, but I'm trying to save up money."
"I know you are, Sid, but still..."
"I've been thinking of taking a trip with him," Sid said it before he could stop himself. It was an idea that had been brewing in his mind for some time now. "One last one, before... you know. We could stop by for a few days."
Nothing but ambient noise could be heard from the other end for a while.
"I'd like to see you Sid."
"Yeah. I know. If it happens, we'll work it out."
After exchanging goodbyes with his mother, he hung up and returned to his poor breakfast.
–
Snow drifted softly outside. Sid sat huddled at his kitchen table, wearing a sweater and a blanket. In front of him sat a flat white envelope. His mother had written on it Do not open until Christmas! Sid picked up his cup of coffee and sipped it methodically. He knew what was in the envelope, he just didn't know how much. He didn't want to know how much.
The coffee was starting to help him warm up. It was Christmas, he thought to himself. So he picked some up last night when he went to the deli to pick up sides for Christmas dinner. He was going to his aunt's house with his father. He didn't want to go. Sid disliked his aunt, and she wasn't very fond of him either.
Each time they saw each other it was the same thing: "Are you still working at that factory like a blue collar low-life?" "Why haven't you cut your hair? You look like some queer with your hair like that." "Why didn't you go to college? You broke your father's heart, he spent his whole life breaking his back so you could go."
Sid shuddered at the thought of spending several hours with her. There was a bottle of wine on the counter that would soothe his nerves. Sid picked up the envelope and turned it over in his hands a few times. There had to be a check in there.
The envelop had come in a package a few days earlier. Sid had just sat down to read (a habit he picked up once he had to start spending less money) when the postman came by with it. It was heavy, so Sid heaved it on the counter and grabbed his pocket knife to slit the packing tape.
Inside were several new jeans and nice shirts, along with a pair of steel-toed work boots that he had been needing for forever. His mother had also put in a few bags of Christmas cookies and some candy. There was a cookbook wedged in there, claiming to help him eat healthy and cheap. His stomach did a few flips. His mom was always looking out for him. Sid opened the cookbook, intending to flip through the recipes, but the white envelope fell out.
It had spent the remaining days until Christmas under his mattress.
Finally, Sid worked up the courage to open the envelope. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and took the check out. He opened his eyes and promptly dropped the check back on the table. Three thousand dollars, he thought.
Take a vacation! His mother wrote, like it was that simple.
–
"I'll pick you up in a couple hours, okay?" Sid said.
"Okay, okay, I won't be hard to find, yeah? You know I always play craps. Have fun with Jeanne."
"She's my mom... of course I will. I'll see you, Dad."
His father nodded and entered the casino. Sid waited until he was out of the lobby before driving off. He really didn't want to leave the casino to babysit his father, but this was the only way he could see his mother. He just hoped that his father didn't leave the casino in debt – he had heard that was a side effect of the medication.
It was snowing now, so Sid drove more carefully than he usually did. He wasn't sure why his mother had picked Minnesota to move to, but he supposed that New York had its fair share of bad weather as well.
Once he came to a red light, he picked up his cell phone (courtesy of his mother's generous Christmas gift), and gave her a ring.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's me. I just dropped Dad off, and I'm on my way over. Do you still want to get dinner?"
"Of course I do. You still like Vietnamese?"
"Mom, I haven't been out to eat in months. I'll take anything," Sid said.
His mom was silent, then said: "Well, I know a good Vietnamese place. We'll go when you get here. I'll drive, you've been driving so much."
"Okay, Mom."
When Sid arrived at his mother's house, he wasn't sure what to expect. He had not visited his mother since she moved to Minnesota. That had been six years ago. She ushered him inside once he knocked on the door, as always concerned about his lack of coat. He tried to explain that the car had been warm enough, but she wouldn't hear him.
The house looked like he expected, with furnishings from a chain home décor store. A black cat warily acknowledged him. Books littered the couch and the coffee table. He shrugged at the empty wine bottle on a side table. She moved away when he was eighteen. She had her own life.
"Where's this place you want to go to?" Sid asked.
"It's not too far, maybe ten minutes away, at most. You want some coffee before we go?"
"I'm good, Mom, really. I was chugging soda during the drive. I've had enough caffeine."
"If you're sure, then, okay? Are you hungry at least? You look so skinny now. Have you been using the cookbook I sent you?"
"Yes, Mom, thank you. I really like it. It's helped a lot. And yeah, totally, I'm starving, okay? Totally starving."
So he set off with his mother. The snow came down in large, fluffy flakes. He expected it would melt off the road by later that night, and it would be clear sailing to the cabin his father and he were staying at. Sid was nervous about the whole thing. Now that his father was sick, he hadn't been much of a father. He couldn't remember what he used to talk to his father about besides doctor's appointments and medication.
The restaurant his mother had chosen was small and filled with a fresh but spicy scent, like anise. They were seated quickly and Sid spent several minutes staring at the menu, which had over a hundred items. When the waiter came to take their orders, his mother ordered for him.
"Where are you going again?" his mother asked.
"It's some place really close to the border, it might as well be in Canada. I got it for cheap because it's off season. No one goes in March. We might have to go ice fishing," Sid tried to make light.
His mother frowned and gently spun her teacup around in the saucer.
"You'll stay warm, right?"
"Of course, Mom."
"Do you think you can do this?"
Sid looked down at the table which had a sticky red spot he kept putting his elbow in. He bit his tongue for a few seconds, pushing ice in his drink around with the straw.
"Yeah, I mean I have to? He's my father. I have to. I can't just shove him in a home when he inconveniences me. I can do it, Mom, don't worry, okay? Don't worry. I've got it."
"I feel like you're throwing your life away. You're only twenty-four, Sid. You haven't gotten a chance to be young."
"I'm just paying him back is all... I mean, you guys have spent a ton on me."
"Sid, that's not your job to worry about – paying us back, I mean. When people have kids, they're going to give them everything they have. All parents want back is for their kid to be happy and successful. And I don't think you're happy."
Sid was spared answering his mother because their food came at that moment. His mother didn't bring up the subject for the rest of their meal.
–
Although Sid was warm enough under the covers, a chill had settled right under his skin. He rolled over and was still, letting the ball of heat forming in his chest slowly wash over him and extinguish the cold. The wind blew outside, making the trees whisper. Somewhere in the distance a loon called. He felt at peace with himself in that moment, content to stay where he was forever, listening to the rustling trees and hooting loons.
"Sid," his father's voice was so soft that he didn't hear it until it grew louder, "Sid!"
Sid got up off the couch and walked to the bedroom, feet curling up at the touch of the cold hardwood. When he pushed open the door, Sid found his father lying on the floor, unable to pull himself up to the bed with his stiff arms.
"Dad –" Sid said.
"Don't, okay? Just put me on the bed, just fucking put me there."
Sid couldn't look his father in the eye as he picked him up and placed him on the bed. He wanted to admonish his father for not doing his stretches. He didn't though, because that would make him feel too much like a father, and he already hated the feeling that his father was now the child.
"Now go to bed. We've got to be up early tomorrow, so the fish'll bite."
"Yeah, sure," Sid said, turning to leave.
"Wait," his father said.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry for being short with you. I just... I can't stand this. I can't stand having my body betray me. You don't know what it's like."
Sid looked at his father, half propped up on pillows. He seemed so small. When Sid was young, he might as well have been ten feet tall. Everything Sid wanted to say caught in his throat, lodged there because there was so much to say.
"At least your mind didn't betray you," he eventually decided on. "You were always there for me, so I'll be there for you. No matter what you're like."
"You don't have to do this you know," his father said.
"You want me to have Aunt Krissi take care of you? She's a bitch. She hasn't forgiven you for puking on the turkey that one Thanksgiving."
"That was the worst case of food poisoning I ever had," his father cracked a smile.
"Are you sure it's not because you got drunk and I dared you to eat that can of dog food?"
"Hey, drunk is the only way to deal with your Aunt."
"That's for sure... but hey, I mean, if we are getting up early, we probably should hit the hay."
"Yeah, you're right," his father said. "Good night."
"Night, Dad."
The next morning dawned bright and cold. There was a thing sheet of ice crackling on top of the lake when Sid and his father trooped down there. It took several tries to get the boat's motor going, but eventually it fired up. Sid maneuvered it towards an area full of fallen trees covered in frost. His father grabbed the net and broke up the ice, so they could cast their lines.
"Do you think we're even going to catch anything in this weather?" Sid asked.
"I think so... we're practically ice fishing," his father replied.
After the boat was driven to a good distance, they both cast their lines. The world shimmered and ice crackled as the sun rose. Sid shivered in his coat, but was warmed by the knowledge that he would have this one last golden memory with his father, no matter what would come.
–
Sid remembered being young and watching his mother doing laundry. She always poured vinegar in with the towels. "It makes them the softest," she said. "If you put a dryer sheet in with them, they don't dry you off as well." Sid hated it. He thought that they smelled like salad dressing, even though his mother insisted that once they were dry, they didn't smell of vinegar.
Now that he was doing his own laundry, he thought that she might have been right. They really did dry better when he put vinegar in with them.
Sid leaned against the washing machine and sighed. That seemed so far away, standing with his mother by the laundry room and watching her put towels in the dryer. How wonderful that would be, he thought, to be nine again and to be taken care of. Parents are meant to take care of their children, he thought, not the other way around.
The dryer buzzed. He pulled the towels out and began folding them. They didn't smell of vinegar after all.
–
Hi. Yes. Wow. I liiiive. I had been sitting on this story for quite a while, and decided to submit it to my Fiction Writing class (with some minor changes so no one knew it started out as a Hey Arnold fanfic). I liked the original version of the story I did best, but this version is combined with some changes I made to the final version I submitted for class, so I think it's a pretty good medium of the original I really loved and an edited version that makes more sense.
So, hopefully you guys enjoyed my (in)glorious return.