Read Online One Last Scream by Kevin O'Brien - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kevin O'Brien
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your dad. This last year has been pretty awful for you from what you told me about your breakup and what happened with that poor girl. What was her name again?”
“Haley Lombard,” Karen said quietly.
“Such a shame,” Roseann sighed. “Anyway, you’d be the first one to recommend counseling to somebody in your shoes.”
“I know, I know, ‘Physician, heal thyself,’” Karen replied.
Roseann was right, of course. But Karen made her living listening to people’s problems all day long. And it seemed like the rest of her time lately was dedicated to her father. She didn’t want to spend what little time remained in therapy or talking about Alzheimer’s. A DVD of a familiar classic was her therapy; it was like having an old friend over. An evening at home with Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint, or Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn, wasn’t a cure for her troubles, but it was a Band-Aid that fit just fine.
“Who knows?” Roseann said. “If you joined one of those Alzheimer’s groups, you might meet a nice, single man.”
“Oh, yeah, right.” Karen took one last gulp of the bad coffee, then poured the rest down the sink and rinsed out the cup. “Like I’d want to hook up with some guy whose life is just as screwed up as mine is, thanks to Alzheimer’s. Talk about serious relationship baggage. No, thanks. Besides, I’d probably end up running the stupid meetings. You know I would.”
“Probably,” Roseann muttered, nodding. “But you’d do a damn good job of it. You’re not so terrific at helping yourself, Karen. But you really know how to help other people.”
Karen managed to chuckle. “Well, thanks a bunch. I—”
Her cell phone vibrated once more, and she checked the caller ID. Amelia again. Karen sighed. “I’m sorry, Roseann. I need to take this.” She clicked on the phone. “Hello? Amelia?”
“Oh, thank God!” the girl began. “I’m sorry to bother you, Karen. But something awful has happened—”
“Where are you?”
“I’m sitting in Shane’s car—in your driveway. I don’t know anybody else I can talk to about this. You’re the only one. I’ve had another blackout, and I think I did something—”
“It’s going to be all right,” Karen said calmly. She glanced at her wristwatch. “My housekeeper, Jessie, ought to be there very soon. Get her to let you in, and wait for me. If you want, help yourself to a Diet Coke in the fridge. I’ll see you in about a half hour. Does that sound okay, Amelia?”
“Yes, thank you, Karen. Thank you so much.”
“See you in a bit.” Clicking off the line, Karen shoved the phone back in her pocket, and gave Roseann a pale smile. “Sorry, Ro. About that talk regarding my dad, can it wait until later in the week? I have an emergency with one of my clients.”
Roseann nodded. “No sweat. Go help somebody. Like I say, it’s what you’re good at.”
Karen patted Roseann’s shoulder as she headed out of the employee lounge.
Before taking off, she stopped to peek in on her father. The orderly had cleaned him up, and now he looked so peaceful in his slumber. She wondered if in his dreams he was his old self again, if he wasn’t frightened and confused. She took a long look at him, and remembered back in high school when it had been just her and her dad in their big, four-bedroom white stucco house near Seattle’s Volunteer Park. Cancer had killed her mother when Karen was fourteen. Her brother, Frank, was married and living in Atlanta. Her sister, Sheila, was away at college. So Karen and her father looked after each other. They had a housekeeper, but Karen did most of the shopping and cooking. It was a lot of work, and took a bite out of her social life. Some afternoons, after school, all she wanted to do was nap. Her dad always let her sleep. He often snuck into her room while she was napping, and covered her with his plaid flannel robe. Then he’d wait a while and fix their dinner—either hamburgers or bacon and eggs.
“Haley Lombard,” Karen said quietly.
“Such a shame,” Roseann sighed. “Anyway, you’d be the first one to recommend counseling to somebody in your shoes.”
“I know, I know, ‘Physician, heal thyself,’” Karen replied.
Roseann was right, of course. But Karen made her living listening to people’s problems all day long. And it seemed like the rest of her time lately was dedicated to her father. She didn’t want to spend what little time remained in therapy or talking about Alzheimer’s. A DVD of a familiar classic was her therapy; it was like having an old friend over. An evening at home with Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint, or Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn, wasn’t a cure for her troubles, but it was a Band-Aid that fit just fine.
“Who knows?” Roseann said. “If you joined one of those Alzheimer’s groups, you might meet a nice, single man.”
“Oh, yeah, right.” Karen took one last gulp of the bad coffee, then poured the rest down the sink and rinsed out the cup. “Like I’d want to hook up with some guy whose life is just as screwed up as mine is, thanks to Alzheimer’s. Talk about serious relationship baggage. No, thanks. Besides, I’d probably end up running the stupid meetings. You know I would.”
“Probably,” Roseann muttered, nodding. “But you’d do a damn good job of it. You’re not so terrific at helping yourself, Karen. But you really know how to help other people.”
Karen managed to chuckle. “Well, thanks a bunch. I—”
Her cell phone vibrated once more, and she checked the caller ID. Amelia again. Karen sighed. “I’m sorry, Roseann. I need to take this.” She clicked on the phone. “Hello? Amelia?”
“Oh, thank God!” the girl began. “I’m sorry to bother you, Karen. But something awful has happened—”
“Where are you?”
“I’m sitting in Shane’s car—in your driveway. I don’t know anybody else I can talk to about this. You’re the only one. I’ve had another blackout, and I think I did something—”
“It’s going to be all right,” Karen said calmly. She glanced at her wristwatch. “My housekeeper, Jessie, ought to be there very soon. Get her to let you in, and wait for me. If you want, help yourself to a Diet Coke in the fridge. I’ll see you in about a half hour. Does that sound okay, Amelia?”
“Yes, thank you, Karen. Thank you so much.”
“See you in a bit.” Clicking off the line, Karen shoved the phone back in her pocket, and gave Roseann a pale smile. “Sorry, Ro. About that talk regarding my dad, can it wait until later in the week? I have an emergency with one of my clients.”
Roseann nodded. “No sweat. Go help somebody. Like I say, it’s what you’re good at.”
Karen patted Roseann’s shoulder as she headed out of the employee lounge.
Before taking off, she stopped to peek in on her father. The orderly had cleaned him up, and now he looked so peaceful in his slumber. She wondered if in his dreams he was his old self again, if he wasn’t frightened and confused. She took a long look at him, and remembered back in high school when it had been just her and her dad in their big, four-bedroom white stucco house near Seattle’s Volunteer Park. Cancer had killed her mother when Karen was fourteen. Her brother, Frank, was married and living in Atlanta. Her sister, Sheila, was away at college. So Karen and her father looked after each other. They had a housekeeper, but Karen did most of the shopping and cooking. It was a lot of work, and took a bite out of her social life. Some afternoons, after school, all she wanted to do was nap. Her dad always let her sleep. He often snuck into her room while she was napping, and covered her with his plaid flannel robe. Then he’d wait a while and fix their dinner—either hamburgers or bacon and eggs.
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