All That Could be Said.

 “… thanks, Tom. Heads up, folks, the National Weather Service has issued a heat warning for Fort Worth and Dallas, as well as surroundin’ counties, as you can see…”

Norah looked up from her phone, alarmed.

“… highs of 120 over the next week’r so…”

She was up in an instant, rushing for the front door, grabbing keys from a dish and hat from a hook.

“Norah? Where’r you goin’?”

This from Clyde, her husband, whose head had appeared around the corner from the kitchen.

“Checking on dad,” she said, already half out the door.

His brows knitted a forehead sweater.

“Yer pa? Why…”

The weatherman’s enthused voice drew his gaze to the TV. The self-same screen which was mostly red with weather warnings.

“Ah.” He said.

She gave him a wave.

“Loveyabye!” she called.

Stepping off of the porch was a lot like walking in front of a flamethrower. The blasting heat felt like it would scorch her skin black. Her nostril-hairs curled as she breathed in the fiery air. Above, the sun glared down, a watchful, wrathful eye.

“Dear lord,” she muttered to herself, shading her face as best she could with one hand.

The light was blinding, so it was something of a fumble to get her keys in position.

“Damn it,” she swore, as they tumbled from her hand.

She brushed the door with her arm as she bent down to fetch them, and yelped. The metal had bitten her, given teeth by the all-consuming heat. Once her keys were back in hand, she gingerly opened the door, and got in.

Inside was hotter than outside, budding up sweat all over her body. She wiped her forehead, started her engine and turned the AC on as high as it would go. The vehicle trembled and shook beneath her hands, as if protesting the work conditions.

“I know, baby,” she soothed it, “it’s hot, but you can do it.”

As if responding to her words, the car settled down into a more steady rattle.

“There ya go.”

She backed out the driveway and sped off.

***

Norah’s father was called Chuck, or Charlie, or sometimes even Mr. Davidson, but never Charles. He shared the rugged reputation of his coincidental namesake, along with its elegant frame. He was tall enough to brush his few remaining hairs on door-jambs and wide enough to take up most of a couch by himself. Most of all, he was strong, and proud of it.

That is, was as in, used to be. Time saps all strength, robs all riches, and grinds down even mountains. Chuck, big as he was, was no mountain.

The drive up to Fort Worth had been five long, miserable hours. Even with the AC on, the car was sweltering, and Norah cursed their lack of a garage more than once. She first spied her father sitting on his porch, eyes closed, leaning back against the side of the family home. He didn’t stir as she drove up and parked, nor when she got out of the car and crossed the lawn.

“Dad?” she called.

“Had a feelin’ you’d be comin’ by.”

His voice had the heft of seventy-eight years of Texan sun, and his face carried that same weight. While seventy-eight might not be all that old, Norah’s pa weathered it poorly. He opened watery grey eyes, the only part of him that moved as she approached.

“How’re the rats?” he asked, looking up at her.

She sat next to him, taking off her sunhat and fanning the both of them.

“They’re fine,” she replied, “Rosie got a B last week in Math, and Fred’s started ridin’.”

That got the old man’s attention.

“Is that right?” he asked, turning his balding head. His glasses glittered as they filtered the sunlight. “He any good?”

“He’s four, pa,” she chided, “whadda ya think?”

He chuckled, looking back at the road.

“Not a natural, then.”

She grimaced. Her father had a cutting way of speaking.

“No, but he likes it,” she defended her son, “and ain’t that what matters?”

“I suppose,” he said, shrugging. “Long as he keeps up with’it.”

She resisted the urge to snipe at him, reminding herself why she was here.

“And how’re you, dad?”

“Old, still livin’.”

The reply was quick, automatic. Norah’s eyebrow rose in suspicion.

“I can see that,” she began, “but how are you doin’?”

“Haven’t the faintest idea what ya mean.”

She sat back, huffing with hot frustration.

“Did’ya play these games with mom?” she demanded.

He gave her a look, one she couldn’t quite read. It wasn’t angry, or reproachful, but something about it pulled a, “sorry,” from her lips.

“I’m doin’ just fine.” He said.

It was the only acknowledgement of her apology, the only one she needed. They sat there for a moment, quiet.

“There’s a weather warnin’.” Norah said at last.

“I know,” he replied, “heard it on the radio this mornin’.”

“So?”

His eyes were lidded, and he was studiously avoiding her gaze.

“Did’ya get it fixed?” she demanded.

He didn’t reply, breathing evenly and quietly. She sat up, giving him a hard look.

“Dad?” she insisted.

“Couldn’t get anyone out,” he said, “ain’t got the money.”

She resisted the urge to punch him in the shoulder.

“Jesus, dad!”

This look was definitely reproachful.

“Young lady!” he chastised, “do not take the Lord’s name in vain!”

She ignored his admonishment, staring him down.

“I thought you had insurance?”

A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, they sent a guy.”

When he didn’t continue, she poked him in the shoulder.

“And?”

“And nothin’,” he said, “insurance don’ cover wear-n-tear. Guess s’like a pre-existing condition!”

He chuckled at that, but Norah wasn’t laughing.

“This ain’t a joke,” she hissed, “they’re saying 120, dad, 120!”

He shrugged.

“And? I’ve lived through worse.”

His mouth was set, a hard line amidst a swirl of soft ones. It was an expression that brooked no argument, a face she’d seen the most in her teenage years.

“Dad,” she sighed, “c’mon…”

“I’ll be fine!” he insisted.

Norah stood, crossing her arms and marching over to the porch steps. She glared at the sun, as if the knives her eyes were shooting could cut it up and put it out. Her father chuckled behind her.

“My Lord, yer so much like yer mother.”

His heavy rasp was lightened with wist. She could imagine his faraway expression, and it sank her shoulders down.

“Why don’t we talk about it, dad?” she asked.

Suddenly he was at her side, resting his hands on the railing.

He simply said, “What’s to say?”

She hated that he was right. Everything that could’ve been said, had been. His brave little smile, as his eyes were empty oceans, spoke in place of his mouth. As she studied his face, his earlier joke echoed in her mind. She made a decision.

“I’m gonna get you a new unit,” she announced.

He looked at her sharply.

“Norah, no,” he said, his tone firm, “y’all don’t have the money.”

He was right again, but there was no way that she was leaving her father for dead. Not him, too.

“It ain’t a discussion,” she said flatly.

She was down the steps before he could protest.

“Norah, wait!”

She didn’t stop. He was stubborn, and like father, like daughter.

***

“Hi there, welcome to Walmart, what can I do you for?”

The greeting issued from a five-foot-four stack of peps and white teeth by the labelled name of Kacey. She wore the company shirt better than Norah wore ballroom gowns, and that smile was so infectious that it even lifted the corners of Norah’s tired mouth.

“D’ y’all have air conditioners?”

“Sure thing, aisle fifteen-” she pointed down the line “-on yer left, just past sporting equipment!”

“Thanks,” Norah mumbled, shuffling by.

“Ma’am, excuse me, but are you all right?”

Concern was evident on the peppy youth’s face.

“I am, thanks.”

The emotion didn’t dissipate.

“OK, but if y’ need anythin’, just ask a member of staff,” she said, “it’s boilin’ out there!”

Norah thanked her and moved on.

The air conditioning units were right where Kacey had indicated, stacked in shelves all along aisle fifteen. She looked at their prices with despair. Everywhere she went shared one of two stories: either they were out of stock; or, like here, they were out of her budget.

He needs this, she reminded herself, his life is on the line.

She searched for the most affordable option, but the only thing that was, was a tiny, portable model. The thing looked like it would struggle to cool a moderately sized room, let alone a whole house. She considered the next one up. It was slightly larger, looking like it could at least handle his bedroom for the week of the heatwave, but it was almost triple the price. Anything bigger was impossibly out of reach.

It’ll have to do, she thought, grabbing the box off of the shelf.

It was heavier than she thought, too heavy to carry by herself, so she flagged down a passing staff member.

“Sorry t’ trouble you,” she called, “but could ya give me a hand with this?”

He marched down the aisle like he owned it, a snide little smirk curling his lips.

“Bit heavy, hun?” he snarked, “we do have carts, y’know.”

Norah was too tired to match his energy.

“Yeah, sorry,” she said, “I forgot. Imma bit tired.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” he said, his lips sympathetic, his eyes reptilian. “Here, let me get that for ya.”

He heaved it up, almost startling her. The man was stronger than his thin frame suggested. He carried the machine all the way to an empty checkout, ducking in behind it as he went.

“I’ll even check ya out, how’s that, dear?”

Norah resisted the urge to strangle him, giving him a polite, if tight, smile.

“Bless your heart,” she said, a Texan’s curse.

That left him fuming, but she hadn’t been openly rude, so there was nothing he could really say. He just scanned the box, then flashed her a false grin.

“That’ll be $587.98,” he said.

Norah blanched. In her fatigue, she’d forgotten tax.

“Somethin’ wrong?” the cashier asked, his grin fixed.

“No,” she blurted, “nah, that’s- that’s the price.”

“Ain’t it just,” he smarmed.

She took out her wallet, fumbling for her credit cards. Clyde and she had six between the two of them, and she’d brought four along. The cashier handed her the card reader, and she inserted the first, then typed in her PIN.

Time slowed, and her heart stopped, as the machine flashed a little red, ‘X’.

“Oh, dear, looks like yer payment declined!” the thin man said, his grin turning ghoulish, “y’ got anythin’ else?”

“Y-yes,” she stuttered.

Three more.

“X”

“Ooh, sheesh, not that one!”

“X”

“No luck, I’m afraid!”

One more. The last one.

Please, God. She prayed, Please.

She typed in the pin.

“X”

Her heart dropped out through her stomach.

“Nope, not that one, either.” The cashier said.

Norah looked at him, his bright eyes, his smooth skin, the brown flecks in his green eyes. His mouth worked, chewing out words in slow motion.

“Yaaa gooot anythiiin’ elllse?”

She felt sick.

“No,” she said, and it felt like signing a death warrant.

“Well, then, I’m sorry-” he started.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Sorry, ma’am, I didn’t catch that.”

“Please,” she begged, “it’s for my dad, his air con broke-”

“Well then I suggest he gets it fixed,” the cashier interrupted, “mighty hot all this week!”

“He tried, he can’t afford it, the insurance-”

“Ma’am, this is none of my business,” he interrupted again, every trace of false camaraderie vanishing, “my business is makin’ sure that this fine establishment-” he gestured to the enormity of the superstore “-does not go out of business.”

“I understand that,” Norah croaked, “but-”

“But nothin’.”

He was thoroughly unfriendly now, irritation breaking through his mask.

“We provide a service, and you either pay for it, or you don’t. Ya don’t like it? Go somewhere else!”

“I’ve already been everywhere else,” she protested.

He shrugged, exaggerating the movement to absurdity.

“Hey, them’s the breaks.” He said, “Now, for the last time, can ya pay for this, or not?”

Norah stared at him. She felt her lower lip trembling.

“How can ya be so cruel?”

He stared right back, unfazed by her words.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

He stood, picking the machine back up like it weighed nothing.

“Just doin’ my job, ma’am,” he said, then walked off, shaking his head.

“Some people,” she heard him mutter.

The world was standing still, and she didn’t know what to do.

“Ma’am?” a gentle voice asked, “ma’am, are you all right?”

It was Casey. The girl’s excitable energy was dimmed by worry, her face displaying genuine concern. As she drew closer, Norah could smell her perfume; a strawberry scent, like what a kid might wear.

“I…” Norah started.

She had no idea how to finish the sentence.

***

The drive back to her dad’s place was a blur.

She didn’t remember the road, the other cars, what the sky or the ground looked like, nothing. She just sat, and drove.

Chuck was waiting for her on the porch. The car came to a slow, rolling stop, her foot easing onto the brake. Getting out was like falling over. Abrupt and painful. She couldn’t look him in the eye as she approached. The three steps were giant, each leg up like climbing a mountain.

Her father stood, and, without a word, folded her in his arms.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“Never say that again,” he grumbled, tightening his embrace. “Never. Not t’ me.”

She was crying. In the middle of the day, on her father’s front porch. Crying like a little girl.

“You did what you could.” He assured her, pulling back and looking down at her. “You did what you could.”

But she hadn’t, yet.

“Come home with me,” she pleaded.

She knew the answer from his eyes alone.

“And do what? I’d only be a burden. I’ll not inflict myself on ya.”

Norah opened her mouth, to protest, to convince, but was stopped by his finger on her lips.

“Norah,” he said, deadly serious, “I can’t.”

He sighed, deflating. She saw, suddenly, how old he was. It was ridiculous, seventy-eight wasn’t old. But the man in front of her might as well be ninety.

“She’s still here,” he whispered, like he was telling her a secret. “She’s still here, and if I leave, I’ll never be back.”

Now Norah was supporting him, holding him up by his armpits. There was a storm in his brain, and she was a rock. If he slipped, the ocean would have him. So she gripped him tightly, and pressed her forehead to his.

“Can I at least stay?”

She felt him shake his big old head.

“What kinda father would I be, if I let ya?”

He shook his head again, “I’ll not have ya suffer with me.”

Her heart ached.

“Don’t give up, dad,” she begged him. “Stay out on the porch as much as ya can, drink a lotta water, call me if you need anythin’, anythin’.”

She held his gaze.

“Promise me.”

His smile was sad, but nice to see.

“I promise.” He said.

Their goodbyes were brief. All that there was to say had been said, all that could be done had been done. As Norah backed out of her father’s driveway, she took one long, final look at him.

He was resting where she’d found him that morning, leaning against the wood slats of the family home. His eyes were closed, as if he were dozing, but she knew he was still watching her. She studied him, committing every little detail to memory. He was almost like a painting, sitting there. Reclining, hands folded over his checked shirt, glasses on face and hat on head. Like a retired cowboy, six-shooter hanging, forgotten, by the door, just waiting for God to come pick him up.

It wasn’t the worst way to remember him.

Norah drove away, not seeing the shimmer that came to rest next to her father. Probably just a mirage; after all, it was a very, very hot day.

The old man was smiling, though.