Prologue
The warm breeze blew on my pale skin as I drove down the country road. I struggled to roll the window down a bit more with the old fashioned crank, thirsting for more air. It sure was hot in Louisiana. And humid. And very green. Nothing I was used to.
The rental car creaked as it drove on, getting on my last nerve.
Suck it up, I told myself. This junker car was all I could afford. I knew when I came down here things were going to be tight. I saved whatever I could from my barista job in Alaska, but it wasn't like that was a high paying job. It was just supposed to be a little extra cash to get me through college. But now, I had to drop everything.
Moving down south was not part of my plan, not even remotely. But my dad lived down here in Shreveport, and being that he was dying, I needed to come down to take care of him. He had Alzheimer's, which had gotten progressively worse since the accident. About a month ago, he fell down two flights of stairs and knocked his head up pretty good. He had the Alzheimer's for a few years before that, so like he needed another thing to shake up his memory.
I tried to tell myself not feel bad for him. I'd never had the best relationship with my father. He walked out on my mom when I was eight and didn't even bother coming to the funeral when she died six years ago in a car accident. Didn't so much as give me call, just sent a card that said, "Sorry for your loss. Love, Dad."
He was truly just an awful person, and he didn't deserve my sympathy. But Alzheimer's was such an ugly disease. He didn't even remember my mom, or what he did to me and her. He hardly even remembered me; apparently he talked about me fondly to his nurses all the time, but anytime I visited, he didn't even recognize me. It was hard to stay mad at somebody when they couldn't remember who they were. And since him and I were the only family we had left, I felt obligated to spend some time, however depressing, with my dad before he passed.
His health had been deteriorating rapidly, and nobody knew exactly how much time he had left. Therefore, I pretty much just up and left Alaska without a moment's notice. With my lack of savings, all I could afford at the time was a cheap motel in Bon Temps, a small town just a little outside of Shreveport. I would have rather had a place to stay in the actual city, where my father's nursing home was, but this just had to do.
When the car finally pulled into the motel parking lot, I grabbed my single duffel bag and headed in, breathing in the Louisiana air. The woman at the front desk greeted me kindly in her strong southern accent as I strode up to her.
"Hi, I already have a reservation," I said.
"Alrighty," she hummed. "What's it under?"
"It should be under Eldoris. Lissa Eldoris."
Chapter 1
"Okay, Miss Eldoris, you'll be in room 17," she said as she held out the key. I took them cautiously, careful not to touch her hand in the process. I wasn't in the mood for another "episode" at the moment.
"Thanks," I mumbled.
I unpacked my bag quickly, as I didn't have much to begin with. I turned on the TV, hoping to procrastinate on the inevitable, but the motel only carried two basic channels. When both proved to be uninteresting, I decided it was time to suck it up and go.
The drive to Shreveport wasn't nearly as bad as the drive from the airport had been, but the aged rental car still squeaked and groaned, much to my annoyance. I chewed half my lip off out of anxiousness. It'd been over a year since I saw my dad, and I had no idea what kind of shape he was in now after the accident.
The nursing home looked as depressing as it had a year ago. Walking in, I saw the same frumpy old lady that was here last time still working the desk. She seemed still just as bitter, not even bothering to look up from her paperwork as I walked over.
"Excuse me, I'm here to see Bruce Eldoris, I'm his daughter," I explained.
"Room 6, down the first hallway to the left," she said in a slightly agitated, monotone voice.
Nodding my head nervously, I made my way to the room. I stopped just outside the door, trying to work up the nerve to go in. The sound of an old sitcom on a TV turned up too loud was coming from the room. I sucked in a deep breath.
My father sat in one of those hospital recliners, squinting up at the TV. Beside him on a bedside table were a half-eaten meatloaf and some mac and cheese. The lights were off and the curtains closed, so the only light in the room was the one the TV gave off.
"Dad?" I practically whispered. He didn't move a muscle, he mustn't have heard me.
"Dad!" I said louder.
He turned and looked at me, and to my surprise, his face lit up.
"Hey, hey, hey!" he exclaimed. "Get in here. How are you?"
"How are you?" I said, shocked that he recognized me. "Wow you seem to be doing better than I thought."
"I'm good baby cakes, doing better now that you're here." He managed to sit up better and wave me in. I took careful steps towards him. "I've missed you so much, Nancy."
I stopped in my tracks. Nancy? So he doesn't remember…
"No Dad, it's me… Lissa?" He squinted at me, trying to place my name. I sighed. "Your daughter?" I asked with a hint of impatience in my voice. I knew it wasn't his fault, but I didn't have any patience for him before he got this disease.
Still there was no recognition in his eyes. I groaned internally. "Alessandra?"
Everyone always called me Lissa, but my dad was the only one who used my full name. It's not that I hated my name, but it reminded me of too many bad memories. It was too formal of a name anyways.
"Alessandra…" he said inquisitively. I could see the gears turning in his head, and for a moment, I could've sworn I saw something click. But then he shook his head and held out his hand.
"Nice to meet you, Alessandra. What a beautiful name," he said as if he was meeting someone for the first time, which I guess to him, he was. Not wanting to be rude, I held out my hand and reached for his outstretched one.
It was the evening time, there were a couple nurses standing around my dad. One was checking his blood pressure, the other was typing on a mobile computer, and the last was trying to coax him into taking his medicine.
"Bruce, come on, please take your medicine, you'll feel so much better," said the nurse with ashy brown hair. She wore pink scrubs and a name tag that read "Savannah".
"You're such a sweet lady," my dad crooned. "So much like my Alessandra…"
"Alessandra would want you to take these," Savannah pleaded, offering him the pills.
"My sweet Alessandra…" he whispered before starting a huge coughing fit. Savannah held a handkerchief up to his mouth and he grabbed on. A while passed before he pulled it away from his face, stained in blood. He looked god awful.
"Just take these," Savannah said softly, and my dad finally accepted the pills.
I shook my head to clear the vision as I shook my father's hand.
"Nice to meet you," I said, never missing a beat. I had plenty of practice by now.
So he did remember me, or not really, but he would at some point in the future. It was impossible to tell when the vision would take place; I only knew it was sometime in the near future.
I sat with him for some time while he babbled on about nothing, watched TV, dozed off. When his nurse came in, I recognized her as Savannah, I avoided shaking her hand and talking to her by saying I was in a rush to get out. I felt a bit rude, leaving without introducing myself or hearing from her about my father. I was just too tired and too uncomfortable to deal with another vision.
I crashed the second I got back to the motel.
