A Siege of Elephants

The question hung over the dinner table like the sword of Damocles.

“You need to eat, Pop,” Cindy said, gently patting Grandpa John’s arm.

He sat at the head of the table, his hands hanging by the fingers from the edge. “I’m waiting for Audrey.”

“Pop—”

“Leave him alone, Cin,” Dave, Cindy’s husband, interrupted, his tone cautious. He never acknowledged her glare as she tapped an index finger against her plate.

Pop, his unfocused eyes looking somewhere beyond the room, beyond the house, folded his hands in his lap. “She won’t be long. She's washing her hands.”

Dave studied the half-eaten steak on his plate. Biting his lip, he rolled a furtive glance at his wife. She pressed her lips together. “Ah, Pop, mom’s not coming. She—”

“Yes, she is. I just saw her.” Pop turned his head and called over his shoulder. “Audrey. Honey, come and sit down. Dinner’s getting cold.”

Cindy pushed a sprig of broccoli around her plate with her fork.

Dave pushed his plate aside and clasped his hands on the table. “Pop, mom’s not here. She died five years ago.”

Grandpa John exhaled and slumped down in his chair. He stared at his hands. An empty silence filled the room. Dave tapped his thumbs together, a puff of air puttering from his mouth. Cindy continued rolling the broccoli around her plate and tapping her index finger. Blythe, her sister-in-law, sitting next to her, counted cobwebs in the corners of the crown molding. Bryce, Dave’s, and Cindy’s fifteen-year-old son, sat at the other end of the table. From the look on his face, this was one dinner he wished he had missed.

Dave tented his fingers and peered across the fingertips at his wife.

The crease between Cindy's eyebrows deepened the more she frowned. She gave him a subtle head jerk toward his father.

Dave inhaled a lugubrious breath and let his arms flop on the table with a resolute slap. “Ah, Pop . . . ah, we need to talk.”

Grandpa John’s head made a slow turn toward his struggling son. His eyes narrowed.

“We need . . . ah, we decided—” he gave Cindy a hesitant sideways peek “—ah, we decided we need to find someone to . . . to help you when we’re at work.”

Cin’s eyes widened and she leaned across the table. “Pop—” she looked from Dave to his father “—it’s for the best. We can’t watch you when we’re gone and—”

Pop slammed his fist on the table, clipping the edge of his dish and flipping it. Steak, broccoli, and mashed potatoes cascaded onto the floor. Forks and knives rattled in the dishes. The sudden ferocity of his response brought gasps and shudders. “You mean someone to wipe my ass and zip my fly? Like hell!”

Cin held her hands out, her fingers splayed and pressing the palms in a rapid downward motion. “Pop! That’s not what we are saying, Pop.”

Grandpa jumped up, knocking his chair on its back. “It’ll be a chilly day in hell before you lock me up in some freak house.” His nostrils flared. “Tell them, Audrey,” he said to Blythe, “tell them we won’t let them do it.”

Blythe’s eyes glistened. “Pop. I’m Blythe. Your daughter.”

The anger faded from his face, replaced by chin-sagging confusion. He averted his eyes from the four startled faces peering back. He gripped the edge of the table, “I think I need a nap,” and shuffled away, disappearing down the hall.

Cin motioned to Bryce and lowered her voice. “Go with your grandpa.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. Just sit with him.”

Bryce pushed his chair back and hurried after his grandfather.

“That went well,” Cin said. She glowered at Dave. “When did we agree to have someone come here to watch him? Our agreement was to put him in a skilled nursing facility.”

Blythe laid her hand on Cin’s wrist. “Let’s all take a breath. We’re not here to fight.”

Cin rolled her head back against her shoulders and closed her eyes. She inhaled three deep breaths. “Okay.” She inhaled again. “I’m sorry.”

“Pop’s not going into any home, and that’s final.” Dave crossed his arms. He set his jaw and eyed the two women across the table.

Cin kept her eyes shut but couldn’t hide the muscles pulsing along her jaw. She pinched her lips between her teeth.

“It’s our responsibility to care for him,” Dave clenched his jaw, “and not some immigrant at minimum wage.”

Cin’s ears reddened. She got out of her chair and stared into his eyes, firmly setting her fists on the table with her face mere inches from his. “You mean it’s my responsibility to care for him,” her words, thick and angry, pulverized the air, “for nothing?”

He lowered his gaze.

“Look at me, David!" She slapped her hand on the table. "That’s what you mean, isn’t it?”

Blythe winced. “Cin, please calm down,” she pleaded. “Dave doesn’t mean just you, do you, Dave?”

He didn’t answer and kept his eyes down.

“Cin,” Blythe softened her voice, “you can do it. Both of you can do it. He’s family, and it’s our responsibility to take care of him.”

Cin sagged into her chair with a frustrated thump. She placed her forehead on the table’s edge and rocked her head from side to side. “That’s easy for you to say, Bly,” she said, glowering disgust at Blythe. “You live a thousand miles from here. We . . . Dave, me, and Bryce are all he’s got here.” She sat up and swung an arm over the back of her chair, hunching her shoulders. “We’re barely hanging on by our knuckles now.”

Dave’s lips paled and his face flushed.

“I’ve been called out of work three times this week because Pop wandered off and couldn’t find his way home. He didn’t know where he was or how he got there. I can’t keep leaving work like that or I’ll be out of a job. Dave’s already out of work.”

“Cindy!” Dave pounded his fists. “Stop!”

Blythe gaped at her brother.

Cin's eyebrows arched in annoyance.

“Stop.” He pouted. “I’ve got a job. It’s a temporary layoff. Nothing more. I’ll be back to work in a week.”

Cin shook her head. “It’s a pink slip. I saw it. They’ve been laying off people at the plant for six months, ever since they sold it to that Chinese company. The plant’s not coming back, Dave and, right now, I’m the only one working.”

Blythe’s chin dropped. She blinked. “Dave, you never—”

The color drained from his fingers pressed into a tight ball and his face flamed. His arms shook. He spoke slowly, enunciating every word to Cin. “Why are you sticking your nose into my business?”

Cin mimicked his tone. “Because your business is our business. What happens to you happens to us.”

His chair scraped on the linoleum. He stood up, shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to leave.

“That’s it, Dave. Walk away. Just like you always do when we need to make tough decisions.”

He scowled. “He’s, my father. I’ll take care of him.”

Cin scoffed. “What’s the use?”

“Sit down, Dave. Please,” Blythe begged.

Cin put her elbows on the table and pressed a cupped hand against her forehead. She sniffed. Dave sighed and collapsed into his chair.

“C’mon, you two. Pop deserves the best we can afford, but Cindy’s right. If things are as bad as she says, he’ll need twenty-four-hour care.”

Dave's lips trembled.

“We’ve got to find a way to help you to take care of him.”

Cin canted her head. “You’re kidding? You’re taking my side?”

Blythe sucked a breath in through her teeth. “You’re right, Cin. I live a thousand miles away, but I can help, too.”

Dave cradled his head in his hands. His shoulders shook. “My family’s my responsibility.” His voice thinned. Redness rimmed his eyes. “I won’t abandon my father.” He muttered into his hand. “I won’t sacrifice his dignity.”

“So.” The corners of Cin’s mouth dipped into a deep frown. Her pensive gaze focused on the broccoli on her plate. She nodded rapidly. “So,” she tilted her head enough to peek at Dave from a narrowed corner of her left eye, “when he poops in his bed, where’s the dignity in that?”

Dave wringed his hands.

Blythe gasped. “Cin!”

She turned her head in a slow arc toward Blythe. “It’s not pretty, but it happens to old people. They can’t help it.” She turned the same slow look to Dave. “We’re at work. Bryce is at school. Pop takes a nap but wakes up and can’t get to the bathroom. Bryce gets home before we do. Is it his responsibility to clean Pop up, or should he wait for one of us? Your dad’s a big man. It’ll take two of us to get him up.” She reached across the table and took Dave’s hands. “David, I love you. I understand.” The tension left his fingers. “I love your father, too. I only want what is best for him and us.”

Dave raised his head. The muscles in his neck tightened as he swallowed. His eyes moistened. “I . . . I don’t want him to think I abandoned him.” The words spilled out in stutters and hitches.

Cin got up and took the chair next to her distraught husband. She touched his chin and gently turned his face to hers. She kissed his cheek. “Baby, we won’t abandon him. We’ll see him every day. You’re a good husband and son. Together, we’ll get through this. I promise. We will. We will.”

“Yes.” Tears coursed down Blythe’s cheeks. She chuckled at the shocked stares across the table, blotting her face with a napkin. “You should see your faces.” She grasped both their hands. “Don’t count me out. I’ll help wherever I can. If you want time together, call. I’ll be out here on the first flight.”

When Bryce peeked from the hallway into the kitchen, Cin noticed the glum look on his face. “Bryce?” Cin jumped up from her seat. “Is Pop okay? What’s wrong?”

“Ah.” He stuck his hands in his back pockets and shifted from foot to foot, “Ah.”

“What, son?” Now Dave was standing.

Bryce’s cheeks reddened. “Ah, Pop. . . he . . . ah, peed his pants.” Dave moved closer. “I’m sorry, Dad. I tried to get him to the bathroom, but he didn’t know where he was, and—”

“It’s okay, son. You did your best.”

“I’ll get him a change of clothes,” Cin said, hurrying toward the hallway, but stopped when Dave touched her shoulder.

He shook his head, a soft smile spilling from his worried creases. “No. I should. I need to talk to him.” He clutched Cin to his side. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“We can both do it.”

He pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead, then whispered, “Together. I like that.”

As they walked down the hallway, Cin said, “You know, there’s a solar and wind company moving into the area.”

“Really? Hmm. I didn’t know that. I'll call them tomorrow.”

“I already did. They’ll be hiring next week . . . and they’re looking for people with production experience . . . supervisors.”

“Oh?” A light chuckle wiggled up the hallway. “What would I do without you?”