Norman didn’t die that day. He came very close. But he managed to hang on in spite of his bleak prognosis. When he did awake, he found himself in a hospital bed, and his entire family surrounding him. And they were relieved that he had survived. But they were also sad. Randall, in particular, was having a hard time looking his father in the eye. He’d spent much of the visit staring at the floor lost in thought. It wasn’t until visiting hours were about to end that he’d have his heart-to-heart with Norman. Even then, he kept his eyes to the floor. But he did sit close.
“Mom told me what you’ve done,” Randall said. “I’m gonna take the house. I know you won’t want to resell it, and I think it would be nice to have something to pass down to Jimmy someday. But, Dad, I’m worried about you. A man your age doesn’t just up and buy a house.”
Norman was still physically very weak, but his spirit was as strong as ever. And he was able to talk.
“Sure he does,” Norman said. “What do you know about being a man my age?”
“Just saying, your health isn’t good enough anymore to make a move like this.”
“My health is plenty good. Well, it isn’t today, but it will be.”
Randall shook his head. Then he made eye contact with his father.
“You’re turning eighty next year. I think it’s time you took it easy.”
“I plan to. That’s why I want to move into the beach house.”
“No, I mean, I think it’s time we provided you with more help. I think you need some extra assistance. I’m worried about your state of mind.”
“Randall, just because I fell this afternoon doesn’t mean I’m incapable of thinking clearly. I’m fine.”
“Dad, you had your heart attack yesterday. And you’re not fine. You bought a house for crying out—”
Randall’s wife put her hand on his biceps to stop him from saying any more.
“Your father doesn’t need another heart attack,” she said. “Calm it down.”
Randall nodded.
“Yes, sorry.” He looked again at his father. “Dad, I think it’s time we helped you plan for a more realistic future.”
Norman held his gaze on his son. He didn’t know where he was going with this. And he wasn’t so sure he wanted to know.
“We need to start getting you more friends. A community of peers, in fact. People to play Bingo with. And, perhaps, a few nice ladies willing to help you with other issues you might have difficulty with.”
Norman narrowed his eyes at his son. Clearly the overgrown boy was having his own train of irrational thought. If the implication he was making wasn’t clear a second ago, it was now.
“I know where you’re going with this, and you can stop right there.”
“Dad, look around you. You’re in a hospital for crying out loud. It’s time to make a life change. You can’t handle your stress well anymore. And we can’t always look after you.” Randall leaned forward and rested his hand on Norman’s shoulder. “You get it?”
“I get it, and the answer is still ‘no.’”
Randall gave him a weak smile.
“We’re gonna take you home soon,” he said. “Then we’re going to help you transition to Saint Joseph Village so that this kind of thing won’t happen again. Trust me, it’s for the best.”
Norman wanted to keep fighting his son on the matter, but he felt the weakness in his chest returning, and he knew that if he wanted to prevent another heart attack from hitting him, then he needed to calm down. Now. So, he didn’t fight his son on the matter. He figured he’d wait until he was stronger to rain the hell that was his opinion down on his firstborn for thinking he knew better than his own father knew.
Unfortunately, he’d end up at Saint Joseph Village long before his strength returned. And Randall would end up taking the beach house in Daytona, probably moving things around and selling things that didn’t belong to him.
And Norman still hadn’t found the notes on how to make Dafodil. He began to wonder if he had taken too long to locate them.