The stale smell of generic cleaning products and human waste was always the first thing to hit his nose and would linger long after he had left the memory care unit.

           “You’re going to tap dance on my grave.”

           They sat watching Bonanza on the television mounted to the wall but of course not really watching. IV needles pierced his father’s paper-thin skin and were held in place by some kind of medical tape. So many things had to intrude into his body to keep it beating now, including tubes that protruded from the halfway mark of his hospital gown, leading to a half filled urostomy bag hanging from the bed. James guessed they only changed those things when they were full to burst, but it was pretty late at night.

           “The day comes, no one’s doing any dancing Dad. Much less on your grave.” 

           “You’re going to dance when I’m dead. You’re waiting for it. I know it. Why else put me here? Why not just let me go home?”

           “Because I don’t know how to change a colostomy bag. Or how to operate that crane, which is the only, are you listening to me? The ONLY way, to get you in and out of bed. You appreciate your nurses, right?” 

           “Mrmmm it hurts. I wanna, I wanna go home.”

           “I know Dad, just try to hold on…just try to hold on a little longer, ok?” James tried to touch the hand with the IV needles taped across the skin, but his father withdrew it quickly. His eyes were filled with a paranoia he couldn’t articulate, and his eyes darted around the room. “Come on, it’s late and you’ve been through a lot, how about trying to get some rest? I know it’ll help.”

           James looked back at the television to see Sheriff Ben Cartwright helping a young Michael Alverson scout out a firesome Comanche warband just over yonder hill, and he had no idea how he was able to consume untold hours of this in the 70’s. It must have been terrible and dated even then, yet he would sit in front of the Tv in the living room and let days pass, mindlessly watching this, Gunsmoke, and whatever else dated western they put in front of him. Maybe his mother was right, maybe it did rot his brain. He could feel himself expiring right now.

           “Not tired,” his father blurted out, “I gotta, there’s too much I gotta do before, where’s Selina? She’ll, she’ll know. There’s a lot I gotta get done.”

           “Mom’s not here right now, but I’ll let her know you asked.” This couldn’t be best way to handle this, he thought looking at his dad restlessly struggle in bed. He hated seeing someone he cared about deteriorate like this, but he wasn’t sure what to do or what there was to be done. He really wanted to leave, go fall down face first on his bed in his apartment and pass out until the end of time but he couldn’t leave, not yet.

            “You know Kelly and Caleb are about to finish their school year.” James told his father, trying to change the subject. He hoped this would jog his memory in the right direction. 

           “I don’t. I got all this stuff,” he signaled to the medical equipment attached to him, “and I gotta, I gotta get out, and, and I gotta-”

           “No Dad, you don’t gotta do any of that, here look,” James grabbed his phone out of his pocket and tried to show his father pictures of his grandchildren, “see, there’s Kelly, I think this was 2^nd or 4^th day of school? And see, see how tall she’s getting? She’s about to go to middle school, can you believe that? Already? She’s doing really good, she’s killing it in class and she’s about to join band.”

           “Oohhh, look at her.” His father said, taking a shaky hand and pulling the phone closer to his face, “she’s, she’s…”

           “Yeah she’s doing great.”

           “She’s joining band.”

           “Yeah, yeah! Yeah, she’s going to try out for trumpet. In fact Kelly is going to be using your old cornet, remember? The one I used back for high school? I was able to get the thing refurbished and still sounds…you know, good.”

           “Does it now?”

           “Yeah I was surprised.  It’s a huge relief though, because getting it up to speed is so much cheaper, well not cheap, but less expensive than buying her a new horn outright. So yeah, you know,” he looked at the phone for a moment, and swallowed, “thank you for that.”

           “Is she playing good?”

           “Well, we’ll know next year when she starts learning 3 blind mice, but I’m uh, I’m really excited for her. Oh!” James pointed excitedly, scrolling over in his phone, “and here’s Caleb, he’s also doing great. Going into the 4^th grade and doesn’t play anything yet except for Roblox, heh, that’s a um, a video game. But yeah, he’s really good at those computers and that’s been fun to do with him.”

           His father took the phone from his son’s hands and with both of his own, held it very intently, staring intensely at the screen and the boy on it. “How…how is James doing?”

           “No, no Dad that’s Caleb, I’m James, remember?”

           “I’m James.” The father said pointing back at himself.

           “You are also James, James Sr, and you made me-”

           “Junior.” Senior said looking directly at his son for the first time.

           “That’s right. I’m your son, and this is Caleb, he’s your grandson. Ok?”

           “And he’s doing good?”

           “Yes, Caleb and Kelly, your granddaughter, are doing really well. I get to see them Sunday, and I’m really excited.” James Jr looked down and smiled at the picture of his two kids, wishing in that moment he could see their mouths move and hands reach out to touch and play. He wished he could see them.

           “And why aren’t they here?” The grandfather asked.

           “Because,” The son reiterated, “It’s late and I get to see them on Sunday. I’m sure we can make it up here. I’m sure they are excited to see you too.”

           “They don’t want to see me.” Sr turned sour and his head swung angrily to the side. “Just like the rest of you. Nobody wants to come see me die.”

           “Don’t say that. I don’t want to see you die, but don’t talk about them like that.”

           “They don’t care. Why aren’t they here? Just like the rest of you. Why aren’t they here?” He demand from his tired son.

           “Because. It’s late, and I see them Sunday.”

           “You can’t see them sooner?”

           Pain shot across Jr’s face, his hand gripped his phone tight and he look down at the ground. “No, I can’t.”

           “Why not? All the same. None of you want to see me. They just waiting to tap dance on my grave.”

           “They can’t tap dance.” He said, still looking angrily at the ground, “Kelly may march though.”  

           “What’s that?” James Sr said intensely 

           “I said don’t talk about them like that.” He snapped.

           “All the same…” 

           “Yeah, we’re all shit, you got me there.” James rubbed his eyes again hoping it would fix something. He wanted to sleep and for the night to be over, but felt desperate and scared of the moment the night would end. He felt trapped, needing the moment to extend indefinitely but knowing this would only extend this sickness he felt in the pit of his stomach. He really wished he could see his son right now.

           “When I die.” James Sr started to exclaim.

           “Oh?”

           “When I die, I want you to put my ashes next to Selina’s.”

           “I don’t know Dad.” James looked back up and tried to look at his father, “Mom is probably going to want to be buried next to her husband.”

           “Can you, can you get her to come?”

           “Here? Now?”

           “Yes.”

           “No.”

           They let a moment of silence past between them.

           “But I did call her before, she knows what’s going on. And I’ll call her after.” James told his father. “For what it’s worth, she does hope you’re ok and wants be updated.” 

           “But she won’t come?”

           “No.”

           “Is your sister here?” He asked.

           “Stephine’s got a flight booked, but no, she’s not here right now.” He answered.

           “Why the hell is she so far away?” he bit back.

           “Because that’s where her job is Dad.”

           “And why she’s gotta get a job out there, huh? We anit got jobs around here? We anit got good enough jobs at home?”

           “She’s got the job,” Junior was now rubbing his hands together as he continued to look down at the floor. It had been a long night, a long life. The smell of shit and bleach had infected his brain and the patience he tried to bring to tonight was slipping, “because it is far. Because it is far away from you.” 

           “I see, I see how it is. When I need you, when I need my family, where are you huh? Where the hell are you?”

           “I don’t know Dad.” He raised his head and looked at his father, his hands were still clasped together, a vein made itself seen between the knuckles. “Where they hell were you most of our lives? I know you don’t know now, but Jesus, where the hell where you?”

           “You’re going to tap dance on my-”

           “I’m not going to tap dance on shit!” James blasted to his feet. “I’m going to be really bummed and angry, and out of pocket a lot of money because your insurance isn’t worth shit!”

           “If I anit worth nothin, then why are you here!”  He father spat back.

           James reflectively look back at the TV on the wall. Bonanza had gone off the air and in its place, some Christian infomercial had taken its place. There was talk about your place in the great hereafter and seed money and how crucial it was you donated your seed money to help their ministry and secure your place in heaven and the sickness felt in James’ stomach turned into pure nausea thinking about all the people who lived here watching this all day.

           “Because I got a call.” James sighed and walked to the other side of the room, “I got a call, and it was the kind you don’t ignore.”

           “Who called you?”

           “Who do you think? It was the nursing home. Dad do you really not remember? Do you not feel sore? Can you not feel the pain?” Jr looked at Sr in bewilderment. It had been a long night, and he could begin to feel the adrenaline that comes when your mind begins to fray.

           “I’m always sore.” Sr said bitterly.

           “Yeah but can you really not feel what happened? Can you not feel how you broke yourself?” The son asked desperately.

           “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” The father spit angrily.

           “Of course you don’t why would you? You fell out of bed. Few days ago, you were being stubborn like always, and you tried to get out of bed to do god knows what without telling anyone and you hit the ground, hard. You really hurt yourself.”

           James Sr looked worriedly around the room, “I didn’t, I didn’t do. I don’t know what you’re-”

           “Yes you did, and you really need to know.” James Jr looked directly down at his father, “They called me when they were rushing you to surgery. I came to see you then, and I came to see you tonight when they called again to tell me how well you were doing.” There was a twitch growing in the bottom corner of his eye that he was scared would become a permanent feature. He was scared that after tonight, he wasn’t going to be okay.

           “How,” Sr tried to choke out the words, “how am I uh, how am I doin?”

           “You said it, you’re dying. You’re in rough shape and you’ve done fuck all to take care of yourself which makes everything tough…the staff said they’d be surprised if it wasn’t tonight.” James paced across the room, running his hands through his hair.

           “I gotta get out of here. I need to.” Sr struggled to get out of bed, “I still need to, I got all this stuff.” He put he hands on the railing of his bed as if was going to bolster himself from it.

           “Yeah, leave. That’s one thing you haven’t how to do, when you get frustrated you’re always trying to bolt. And then you’re clueless as to why no one wants to fucking see you when you need them now that you’re finally at death’s door.” James sat back down and put his hands looked down as his father muttered to himself. “You know you weren’t a good father, you know? I mean I know you don’t know cause you don’t know anything right now, but you were not. And now you just a couple of hours left to live and I’m really, Dad I am really trying not to be mad at you up until you die.” He wiped his nose. “You don’t deserve that, I know I don’t.”

           They both sat in the silence of the room. James Sr was staring at his hands and James Jr was looking at anything that wasn’t his father. Biting his lip, all he could think about was his promise to himself on the drive over that he wasn’t going to end tonight with a fight, but the weight of the unsaid was becoming too much to hold. He thought about Kelly. He thought about how much stronger she was then him, and he thought about how he couldn’t look his father in the eye. But if he had, he would have notice a light coming back to them. Not as bright as they once were, but a spirit stopping by.

           “Couple of hours huh?”

           “Oh you there? Yeah, I don’t know maybe, that’s what they were saying, but also maybe not, I’m sorry.” Jr said, wiping the corner of his eye.

           Sr glanced up at the television mounted on the wall and saw a red-faced man in an ill-fitting suit promising salvation for donations. “Am I going to die watching religious infomercials?”

           “Uhh no, no, no, no of course we could uh, we could watch whatever you want.” James said, jumping at the chance for reconciliation. 

           James Sr sat in his bed and looked in serious contemplation. It was hard to know if he was lost in thought or just lost until he said, “The Searchers…The Searchers feels like the right one.”

           Jr laughed like a sneeze. “Yeah, I think Mr. Ford would agree with that.” He reached down in his bag and pulled out his tablet.

           “What’s yea got there?” Sr asked.

           “Oh fuck that TV,” Jr said, signaling to the one mounted to the wall, “it doesn’t have internet, hell I don’t even think it connects to a DVD player and I’m not going to waste seconds running to Wal-Mart.” 

           “I don’t, I’m not sure what you’re-”

           “You don’t gotta.” Jr quickly purchased the movie off of iTunes and set the tablet up on the table that over sat the bed, and hit play, “It may not be VistaVision, but it’ll sure as hell do.” 

           Sr smiled. “You know, I remember seeing this when it came out, it was one of the first pictures my dad took me too. Mom didn’t like the violent westerns, but Dad said you had to see John Wayne. You had to see him.”

           “Wow, I didn’t know that. You never talked much about Grandpa, I didn’t know he liked John Wayne, wow. I do remember you taking me to see this, 1977? Everybody else is lining up around the block to see Star Wars, and you take me to some revival house to watch this. You said this was a real movie, that he was a real man, heh, you remember that?” Sr scrunched his face, and moved around uncomfortably, perhaps trying to recall. Jr looked and quickly said “It’s ok, it’s ok don’t worry about it, ok? We’re here watching it now.”

           They looked on together as in the film, Ethan had just rejoined the family and began telling them of all the gold he found down in Mexico and James looked up to see his father finally smiling. 

           “You know,” James the father said, “I wish Selina was here. Wish she could see this.”

           “I know. Me too.”

           “Do, do you think there’s any way you could get ahold of her? Try to, try to get her down here, before the end of the picture?”

           For the first time, the son was able to reach and hold his father’s taped hand. “She wants you to know Dad,” he could feel an emotion clogging the base of his throat, but powered through, “that she’s okay. Mom wants you to know she’s okay, and that she finally found something that made her happy.”

           Senior’s eyes blinked, his gaze swayed from the movie to his son. “Can she, not be happy here?”

           “No.”

           “Why not?” his already weak voice begin to truly break.

           James’ grip on his father’s hand stayed firm, but his eyes did not break to meet his dad’s. “Do you really want to remember, now?”

           “No.” 

           Their eyes fixed back on the tablet propped up on the bedside table, watching John Wayne ride off into the horizon, still in search of something to make him feel whole.

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