Dee Laundry (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
deelaundry) wrote2006-08-29 08:00 pm
deelaundry) wrote2006-08-29 08:00 pm
My Fathers' Son, 5/5 (PG)
My Fathers' Son, Part 5 of 5
(Back)
At winter break, it had been just over two years since Elaine had been diagnosed. Pop was still running the oncology department, seeing patients, and spending every spare minute at the nursing home with Elaine. The strain was taking a definite toll: he looked at least fifteen years older than he should have at 61.
Dad had talked about it several times over the phone, but actually seeing Pop gave Jack a very real shock.
“We’re going to do something about it,” Dad told him. “Tonight. Just back me up.” Jack nodded.
Elaine’s sister and her husband were in town to see her, so they managed to convince Pop to have dinner with them at Dad’s. Jack roasted a chicken, and Dad cooked vegetables. Pop sat on the couch and stared at the TV, but it was obvious that he wasn’t hearing a word.
Over dinner, Pop murmured nice things about the chicken, which was dry, and the vegetables, which were practically inedible. It was hard to tell if it was politeness or weary inattention.
Finally Dad pushed his plate away and took Pop’s hand in his. “You’re running yourself ragged,” he began without preamble. “You need to significantly cut back your hours at work.”
Pop shrugged tiredly. “I can’t. We need the money.”
Squeezing Pop’s hand, Dad asked simply, “For what?”
“Jack’s tuition, for one.”
“I already paid for the year. Sent the check yesterday.” That was news to Jack, but he kept quiet.
Pop looked at the table. “What about room and board?”
“That’s taken care of, too. I just bought a condo in Ann Arbor for him to live in.” More interesting news. Jack approved. “It’s in a great location, right near the campus. I am gonna make a mint when he moves out.” Dad’s thumb was rubbing lazy circles on Pop’s hand.
“How could you afford that?”
“What did you think I was doing with all that money I saved by making you buy me things over the years? I invested. It’s now worth… a lot, let’s just say. Jack’s set; I’m set; you’re set. You don’t have to worry about money.” Dad was trying to catch Pop’s eye, but it seemed too much of an effort for Pop to lift his head. Jack reached over and held Pop’s other hand.
“No matter how much is there,” Pop replied, “it’d probably be impossible to cover Elaine’s care without the insurance.”
Dad had the answer for that, too. “Cuddy talked to the Board. You work one day a week, they’ll cover the health insurance and long term care insurance. I tried to get you covered under mine as a domestic partner, but they said I have to be living with you, and, get this, I can’t register both you and Elaine. Pigs. What do they have against polygamy?”
Pop’s head hung lower. “I – I can’t believe you’re doing all this.”
“Oh, c’mon, don’t get weepy on us.” Dad tugged at Pop’s hand. “Guh. Are you sure Elaine’s not the husband?”
When Pop raised his head, there were a few tears in his eyes, but he was blinking them back. “Please shut up.”
***
Time passed and patterns held. Elaine had good stretches of coherence and very bad stretches of hallucinations, delusions, and stupor. She frequently accused the staff of poisoning her, but they were accustomed to such claims and paid them no mind. On occasion, she would angrily accuse Pop of neglecting her or weepingly accuse him of cheating on her. He was able to hold her hand and smile because neither allegation was currently true.
Dad spent more time at the hospital than he ever had, it being a bad year for people who wanted to avoid strange ailments. His diagnostic success rate was 98 percent, and he berated himself and his staff for the missing 2 percent. That meant turnover and more headaches for Don Ebermeyer, the new Dean of Medicine.
Aunt Lisa still chaired the Board, but she had left administration behind for a very fulfilling and lucrative career in writing and lecturing. Jack enjoyed her pieces on medical ethics, and was always amused at how many of her examples he could see Dad’s handiwork in.
Jack went to classes, studied, spent time with friends, squeezed out visits home when possible, and wrote. His first published piece had been an essay on health care, and he strongly suspected Aunt Lisa and Dad of pulling strings behind the scenes for that. His second published piece was a short story in a literary journal he was certain no one read, until Dad sent him a copy covered with red notations. He was pleased to see his own piece received fewer corrections than the rest.
Deep in a desk drawer, he had three chapters, five character sketches, and a plot outline for a novel called Cauliflower Tail. Pop had read what he had so far, but he planned to let it get a little further before sharing it with Dad.
***
In a final act of kindness, Elaine died when Jack was already in New Jersey. It was the “spring” break they had in early March, in Jack’s fifth year at Michigan. She died on Thursday and was buried on Saturday, and Jack’s flight back to Ann Arbor was on Sunday.
He had asked Pop if he should stay for shiva, the traditional seven-day mourning period for family members of the deceased. Pop shook his head. “No, go back to school.”
“But Elaine’s family will expect –”
“I’ll handle them. You’ve done all a friend needs to do.” He smiled gently, cupped Jack’s cheek briefly, and went back to sit silently with Elaine’s mother and father.
Things were atrociously busy his first week back to school, and he didn’t get a chance to call home until Friday evening. He tried Dad first.
“Hi, Dad. Haven’t heard from Pop this week.”
“Yep, they’re still sitting. Mirrors covered, clothes rent, no smiling – all the proper things for a God who’s not watching anyway. But Wilson’s always liked doing the right thing, and I suppose it does make Elaine’s parents feel better.”
“You sound distracted, Dad. What are you doing?” Jack played idly with the tail of his shirt.
“Finishing packing. Shiva’s over tomorrow, the Kaminskys will leave, and I’m going home.”
“You’re –” Jack lost his breath for a brief second. “You’re moving back in with Pop?”
“Yep.”
“Not that I don’t think that’s the most brilliant idea you’ve ever had, but do you think maybe it’s too soon?”
“Too soon for what? Wilson’s done his duty, and I’ve done mine. And emotionally, he’s been grieving Elaine for three years. I should think that would be enough for anyone.”
A wild bird beat its wings in Jack’s chest, and he had to close his eyes for a minute. “Well, that’s… excellent,” he said lamely. “Give Pop a kiss for me when you get there.”
“No.”
“What?”
“The kind of kisses you would give your father are not the kind I’ll be giving Wilson.”
“Dad.”
“We’ll call you tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that.”
“I get it. I love you, Dad.”
“Love you. Bye.”
He tried not to be miffed that it took them four days to call him. Then he tried not to be amused at the lazy drawl Pop could not seem to shake and the smug satisfaction that rang in every word Dad said.
Two weeks later, he called on a Sunday night just to say hello, and got some very interesting news from Pop.
“So we decided we’re going to come out at the hospital. It’ll be tomorrow.”
“Now? After all this time? You don’t have to.”
“I know. Your father wants to. He says it’s either that or he’s outing me in the Journal of Clinical Oncology.”
“Of course, I’d do that anyway if the stupid journal sold ad space.”
“House, what are you doing on the extension?”
“Ad space is a good money-making idea. Why haven’t you ever thought of it, Dr. Editor-in-Chief?”
“Because it’s not actually a good idea. Get off the phone, House, and finish making me dinner.”
Click.
“Dad’s actually making you dinner?”
“He’s transferring the food from the takeout cartons to real plates. He’s also supposed to be opening wine for me, but he LOST the CORKSCREW.”
Jack rolled his eyes and faintly heard “Yeah, yeah, yeah” in the background.
“So, how are you going to come out? Announcement over the PA? Joint memo on the Clinic bulletin board?”
“We’re actually doing things separately. I’ve got everything ready on my end, but I have no idea what House has planned. He doesn’t know what I’m doing, either. Says we need an air of mystery to keep things lively. I don’t know; everything seems pretty lively to me.”
Pop gave a small gasp, and the background noise grew louder, as if the phone had come away from Pop’s ear.
Jack heard Dad’s voice carrying across a distance of a foot or two. “Bye, Jack. Pop has to go; Daddy’s hungry and wants to eat.” There was a thump, as if the receiver had dropped to the carpet. Jack hastily hung up his phone and decided to pretend Dad was talking about the take-out.
Jack had long been accustomed to seeing “Your Father Is Insane” as the subject line of emails from Aunt Lisa. The twist of “Both Your Fathers Are Insane,” however, was remarkable enough to catch his eye the next afternoon.
“I would have known that something was up,” the email read, “if Ebermeyer had told me that House agreed to give a lecture on diagnostics for all new residents. But I still would not have expected the folie a deux that greeted the hospital today.
“Exhibit 1 from this morning’s Board Meeting.”
What followed seemed to Jack, at first, to be a normal picture of Pop, smiling and seated at a conference table. The he adjusted his computer screen slightly, and the message on Pop’s tie came into sharp relief: “TAKEN,” stitched into the fabric in letters two inches high.
“Exhibit 2, exiting the meeting.”
The back of Pop’s lab coat was no longer an expanse of white. It was covered with a cartoon image of a ball and chain, with “Greg House” emblazoned on the ball in neon green.
“Exhibit 3, in the lecture hall.”
The photographer had caught Dad mid-rant: mouth open wide, right arm leaning heavily on his cane, and left arm flung up in the air. It allowed for a perfect view of his shirt, which had an enormous pink heart and the words “MY HEART BELONGS TO JIMMY.”
“Exhibit 4. It’s House, but don’t ask me who took this picture.”
The last picture was a bit fuzzier than the rest, but Jack could see that it was the back of a pair of jeans. The patch on the left cheek read “Property of” and the patch on the right cheek read “James Wilson.”
Five minutes later, when his laughs had turned to hiccups, he relabeled the email “Insanity: Nurture or Nature?” and forwarded it to Teddy, Josh, and Mary.
***
It was 7:48 a.m. on a Wednesday when Jack’s phone rang. He was confused and a bit perturbed as he looked at the clock. Who the hell was calling this early? He was only up at that time because – oh, it was Pop.
“Hi, Pop. What’s up?”
“Jack, hi. You know, when I was young, nobody had caller ID. You had to ask to find out who was calling.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and you walked seven miles to school uphill both ways. Do you call everyone you know this early to meander through the past, or just me?”
Pop’s reply sounded something like “Hmp.” Then there was a pause that went on long enough to make Jack slightly nervous.
“Pop? You there?”
“Sorry. You sounded so much like your father then; it surprised me.”
Jack cradled the phone with his shoulder as he pulled the ground coffee from the freezer and the cold water from the fridge. “Where is Dad?”
“Still in bed. Listen,” Pop replied, “I called to wish you all the best on your exam today.”
“Thanks.” He measured the coffee out for the coffeemaker, exactly the way Pop had taught him. Dad went by eye, but Jack couldn’t stand it when his coffee was too weak or too strong.
“So this is your last exam ever, isn’t it? That’s exciting.”
“It’s pretty cool. Then just one year of clinical rotations, and I’ll finally be out in the real world making some actual money.”
“We’re so proud of you. What time’s your exam?”
“Nine o’clock on the dot.” Jack drummed his fingers on the counter. This coffeemaker brewed nicely, but it took forever.
“Then what are you doing this afternoon?” Pop continued.
“Lunch with some friends from the class.” That brought to mind breakfast, so Jack poked in the refrigerator to see if he had any fruit. He continued, “Then I’m going to Mary’s.”
“I like Mary.” Pop’s voice was warm.
“So do I.”
Mary was the sweetest woman Jack had ever met, but she had a resilience at her core that was amazing. Funny as hell, too. Jack had to smile.
“Why don’t you call me when you’re at Mary’s? I want to find out how the exam went.”
“OK.” Hey, apples. Why had he put apples in the fridge? They’d probably be too cold to eat now.
“I have to go and get the door, sweetheart. Good luck again, and call me from Mary’s.”
The apple was cold, but Jack was hungry. “Yeah, all right. Give Dad a kiss for me.”
“Of course. Bye.”
“Bye, Pop.” Jack wondered for a moment who would be at Pop’s door so early, but he was distracted by the wonderful aroma of coffee. Finally! He was going to need the caffeine to get through this exam.
The exam was every bit as much of a bear as he had thought it would be, but after three grueling hours it was finally over. Lunch was a blast – they all felt so incredibly free, and the pitcher of margaritas helped the mood, too.
By the time he got to Mary’s, Jack’s tension was entirely gone. Mary was in a great mood, too, and they celebrated in a very playful and satisfying manner. Afterwards, he felt boneless, drained, and it was all he could do to drape himself across the couch and watch Mary as she read.
“Weren’t you supposed to call your Pop?” she prompted him.
“I don’t think I have the energy to go all the way over there and get my phone,” he replied languorously. He would have batted his eyelashes, but Mary was already moving.
“You lazy git,” she commented with a laugh, as she handed him the phone. “You’re making me dinner tonight, you know.”
“Of course, darling.” He punched in the numbers for Pop’s cell. It was 3:30; Pop would probably be done with rounds by now.
Pop answered on the first ring. “Jack?”
“I thought you were anti-caller-ID today.”
“No, this morning I was just – thinking about the past.” Pop sounded a little wistful. “How was the exam?”
“A three-hour nightmare, but I think I did fine. Good enough to pass, certainly, and employers are all about the degree, not the grades, right?”
Pop ignored him completely, which was a little annoying. “You’re at Mary’s, right? What’s she doing? Is she there with you?”
“Yeah, she’s right here. What’s with the third degree?”
“That’s good; I’m glad she’s there.”
God, Pop was getting spacey in his old age. He sounded wistful again.
“Was there something else, Pop?”
“Yes, Jack, there is. I’m sorry to say that – No one is ever prepared to hear – Oh, I used to have to say this all the time. Why can’t I say it now?”
Shit. Someone had cancer. Who was it? Grandpa House? The guy was 93; it was a miracle he hadn’t had it yet.
“Pop, it’s OK. Just tell me.”
Jack heard a soft sigh and then, “Your Dad died last night.”
“What?” He felt instantly cold. The shock must have shown on his face, because Mary was there beside him, her arm around his shoulders.
“He died in his sleep. Heart attack, they think. We went to bed last night, and I woke up, and he… didn’t.”
“Oh, Pop, you woke up with him dead next to you? That must have been the worst.” Mary hugged him, hard, and laid her head on his chest and neck.
“No, Jack. If he hadn’t been there, hadn’t been with me, that would have been the worst. I had hoped we’d have more time, but he was 72, and the pain, and the medication… The last six weeks have been amazing. I’m so grateful.”
“Oh, Pop. Oh, Pop.” Jack’s brain was stuck, and all he could do was press the phone tighter to his ear. Then a realization struck.
“This morning, when you called, he was already gone.”
“Oh, yes, sweetheart. I was waiting for the coroner and decided to wish you luck on your exam.”
“Why didn’t you tell me then?” The irritation that flared was a nice distraction from the cold that was still permeating his body.
“You needed to take your exam, and I didn’t want you to be distracted. Your Dad would have killed me.”
That struck Jack as incredibly funny and the urge to laugh temporarily wiped out the irritation and the cold. He kept himself from vocalizing it, though, afraid any laughter might have an hysterical edge to it.
Jack finally realized how Pop was sounding: detached, floating. “Pop, are you OK? You’re not alone, are you?”
“No, no. Cuddy’s here with me, and the Turners from next door, and a few friends from the hospital. Your Grandma Wilson will be here tonight. Grandpa Wilson’s too sick to come, but she’ll be here.” People around, thank God. Aunt Lisa would take charge and keep Pop grounded.
“Did you call Grandpa House?”
“Cuddy did that.” Thank you, Aunt Lisa. “I don’t think he’ll come to the service. He’s… old.”
“He’s a coot.”
Mary was still hugging Jack; he shifted and brought her into his lap so that he could lean into her better.
“Yes, he’s a coot, but he did love your father, even if House couldn’t see that all the time. He’s used to a proper Christian service, though, and this won’t be it. I think he’ll stay home.”
“It’s all right.”
“Yes, it is. It’d be nice if you called him. Tomorrow, if you don’t feel it up to it today.”
“I will, Pop.”
“Do you think Mary could come with you when you come home? I’ll cover the tickets.”
Jack gave Mary an extra squeeze. “I think she’ll come. But you don’t have to pay for it.”
“I want to. Please let me. I’m so used to paying for things, and who will I have to buy for now?” Tears were threatening in Pop’s voice, and the lump in Jack’s throat swelled.
“I’ll be on the next flight.”
“Oh, no, sweetheart.” Pop sighed and pulled himself together a bit. “Stay there tonight and rest. Come tomorrow. There’s no rush. We’ll have a service, um, Cuddy is thinking this weekend. House wanted his body donated to science, so there’s no casket, and really no rush.”
“You going to have a marker for him somewhere? A plaque?”
“A wing of the hospital, I was thinking. He really did have a lot of money saved. Oh, if that’s all right with you. I guess it’s your money now.”
“Dad made a will. It’s in a safe deposit box, and I have a key. But no matter what the will says, the money is yours, Pop. In a just world, you would have commingled your money a long time ago, because you would have been married to Dad all these years.”
“Oh, Jack, I was in my heart.” Pop paused and then sighed. “I’m going to go now; I think I might lie down. Let Mary take good care of you, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Why don’t you call Aunt Lisa when you get your flights settled? She’ll have someone come pick you up.”
“I love you, Pop.”
“I love you so much, Jack. Bye now.”
Mary took the phone from him and hung it up. She rubbed his back and murmured soft, comforting words as he cried.
***
He called Aunt Lisa later that afternoon.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she said. “I am so sorry for your loss. It’s the hospital’s loss, too, and my loss as well.”
“Thank you. That means a lot.” Jack sighed and squeezed Mary’s hand.
“Did you find a flight?” Aunt Lisa asked gently.
“Mary and I are taking a flight to Philadelphia that gets in around 11 am.”
“Email me the details and I’ll have a car pick you up. I’d offer to get you myself, but there’s so much I want to do here. Wilson is trying to help, but he’s really not up to it right now. He’ll be glad when you get here.”
“Maybe I should come tonight, then.”
“No, you should stay there and try to get some rest. Tomorrow is fine.” She paused momentarily. “I would like to ask you something, though. Would you please speak at House’s service?”
Jack looked up into Mary’s face. She smiled gently and squeezed his hand. “I don’t know. It’s fine with me, but I don’t know if Dad would want me to.”
“House, for once, is not going to get the last word. Most of the people who are going to attend the service only knew him professionally. It was a very select few who knew him personally. Everyone knows he was a great mind; I want them to see he was human.”
It was so typically Aunt Lisa that he almost laughed. “I see. I’ll try to come up with something.”
“Thank you, Jack. Send me your flight info so I can send that car.”
***
The evening and the flight the next day passed in a blur. The driver Aunt Lisa had arranged took them straight to the hospital to see Dad in the morgue. He was clean-shaven; how strange was that? Jack touched his hair, his cheek, and his hand, and then had to leave.
The next clear thing Jack remembered was sitting next to Grandma Wilson on the couch at home. She was updating both him and Mary on the arrangements that had been made.
“So, when they took Greg’s body for science, we’ll count that as the burial. Now we’ll sit shiva seven days. The memorial service shouldn’t be in the middle, but not everyone’s Jewish, right? Lisa Cuddy, she is, she should know better, but perhaps it isn’t my place to say.”
Pop looked up from where he was sitting on the floor. “We’re not making Jack sit shiva, Mom.”
She looked startled, almost offended. “Of course he will sit. It was his father.”
Jack slid from the couch to the floor and looked at Pop. “I want to. I want to be with you, Pop.”
Pop smiled slightly, and continued, “Mary certainly doesn’t need to –”
Mary promptly turned and said, “Mrs. Wilson, I’m sorry to say that I don’t know what to do. Can you please show me? And how can I be of help to you?”
“What a good girl,” Grandma Wilson cooed, and took Mary’s hands in hers. “Modest. A beautiful match for my grandson.”
On Saturday evening, they had a hard time convincing Pop to change for the memorial service. When he’d realized Dad was dead, Pop had followed an old custom and torn what he was wearing. It happened to be a pajama top, one of Dad’s, too big for Pop and a terrible tartan pattern. Pop had worn it ever since.
“Pop, you have to change out of the pajama top,” Jack said pleadingly. “People will be staring at you instead of thinking about Dad.”
“House won’t care. Wouldn’t care, if he was there.”
“Plus it’s starting to smell, Pop. Come on, you can put it back on afterwards.”
Pop was blank, unmoving.
Mary came out of the bedroom and offered her finding to Pop. “This is such a lovely tie, Dr. Wilson. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to wear this?”
Pop took the tie, stared at it, ran it through his fingers.
Mary continued gently, “But it won’t go with what you’re wearing. Let’s get you a good collared shirt. And a suit jacket; you wouldn’t want to be cold.”
That was how Pop ended up at the memorial service in the “TAKEN” tie, which got him a few odd glances, but surely fewer than the pajama top would have. It wasn’t until Jack was at the podium for his eulogy, looking down at Pop, that the other appropriate meaning of that word struck him. He had to fight back tears or he would never make it through this.
Mary slid over into his seat and took Pop’s hand.
Jack swallowed and began.
“Hello. I haven’t met most of you, so let me introduce myself. My name is Jack Wilson, and Greg House was my father. Lisa Cuddy wanted me also to tell you that I’m studying to become a pharmacist. She said some of you might find that amusing.”
A light murmur of laughter floated amongst the crowd.
“Some of you might not even have known that House had a son. Recent events in the hospital notwithstanding, Dad liked to keep his life private.
“You might think that implies some shame. As a young child, I have to admit I sometimes did wonder about that. But as I grew up, I realized something Dad knew all along: for anything of value, you have to dig harder to find the truth.
“I’ve come to a new conclusion: that I was more important to my Dad than anything in the world. How do I know that? Because for a very long time, he gave up the second most important thing to him in a misguided but heartfelt attempt to keep me safe.” Pop was crying; Mary was rubbing his shoulder.
Jack blinked, swallowed, and continued, “I never wanted him to make that sacrifice; I begged him not to make it, but he did. How could anyone have shown greater love for me than that?”
He took a deep breath and looked at them all: Pop, Mary, Grandma Wilson, Aunt Lisa. Teddy and Leo further back. Dozens of people he’d forgotten or didn’t know. What words could ever tell them who Dad was, and what he meant to his son? If they didn’t know now, they weren’t ever going to.
“I have two beliefs about the afterlife,” Jack continued.
“The first is that you get the afterlife you think yourself into. If you believe you’re going to hell, you will. If you believe you’re going to heaven, you will.
“Dad believed that there was no afterlife, that life on earth was not just a test. So for him this is it; there is no more. It was a life to be proud of, Dad. You accomplished a lot, saved a lot of lives. Other people have recounted your successes today, so I don’t need to repeat them. I’ll just say you were on an almost quixotic quest for perfection, and at work you almost made it.
“I do have to report that you made some big mistakes, too. You talked yourself out of a lot of happiness. Happiness that was legitimately yours but you refused to take. I’m trying to learn from that, Dad, and gain success in my life in a broader sense.”
He stopped, looked down, looked back up across the crowd.
“My second belief about the afterlife is that God has infinite capacity and infinite compassion. He doesn’t just make us a clump of angels hanging around the same cloud. We each get our own Heaven, with the places and people we loved best in it.
“So although Dad is gone completely and will never see me again, I’ll see him again some day. I have to. He took a large chunk of my heart away with him, and I want it back.”
Jack stumbled coming away from the podium, but Pop was there to catch him. They cried together, standing there, and Jack remembered his grandmother’s funeral. “You and me have a greater supply, Pop,” he whispered, and Pop hugged him tighter.
“Your father was a stupid man,” Pop whispered back.
“I know,” Jack replied as he straightened up and wiped his face. “We’ll clobber him for it in heaven, huh?”
(Back)
At winter break, it had been just over two years since Elaine had been diagnosed. Pop was still running the oncology department, seeing patients, and spending every spare minute at the nursing home with Elaine. The strain was taking a definite toll: he looked at least fifteen years older than he should have at 61.
Dad had talked about it several times over the phone, but actually seeing Pop gave Jack a very real shock.
“We’re going to do something about it,” Dad told him. “Tonight. Just back me up.” Jack nodded.
Elaine’s sister and her husband were in town to see her, so they managed to convince Pop to have dinner with them at Dad’s. Jack roasted a chicken, and Dad cooked vegetables. Pop sat on the couch and stared at the TV, but it was obvious that he wasn’t hearing a word.
Over dinner, Pop murmured nice things about the chicken, which was dry, and the vegetables, which were practically inedible. It was hard to tell if it was politeness or weary inattention.
Finally Dad pushed his plate away and took Pop’s hand in his. “You’re running yourself ragged,” he began without preamble. “You need to significantly cut back your hours at work.”
Pop shrugged tiredly. “I can’t. We need the money.”
Squeezing Pop’s hand, Dad asked simply, “For what?”
“Jack’s tuition, for one.”
“I already paid for the year. Sent the check yesterday.” That was news to Jack, but he kept quiet.
Pop looked at the table. “What about room and board?”
“That’s taken care of, too. I just bought a condo in Ann Arbor for him to live in.” More interesting news. Jack approved. “It’s in a great location, right near the campus. I am gonna make a mint when he moves out.” Dad’s thumb was rubbing lazy circles on Pop’s hand.
“How could you afford that?”
“What did you think I was doing with all that money I saved by making you buy me things over the years? I invested. It’s now worth… a lot, let’s just say. Jack’s set; I’m set; you’re set. You don’t have to worry about money.” Dad was trying to catch Pop’s eye, but it seemed too much of an effort for Pop to lift his head. Jack reached over and held Pop’s other hand.
“No matter how much is there,” Pop replied, “it’d probably be impossible to cover Elaine’s care without the insurance.”
Dad had the answer for that, too. “Cuddy talked to the Board. You work one day a week, they’ll cover the health insurance and long term care insurance. I tried to get you covered under mine as a domestic partner, but they said I have to be living with you, and, get this, I can’t register both you and Elaine. Pigs. What do they have against polygamy?”
Pop’s head hung lower. “I – I can’t believe you’re doing all this.”
“Oh, c’mon, don’t get weepy on us.” Dad tugged at Pop’s hand. “Guh. Are you sure Elaine’s not the husband?”
When Pop raised his head, there were a few tears in his eyes, but he was blinking them back. “Please shut up.”
***
Time passed and patterns held. Elaine had good stretches of coherence and very bad stretches of hallucinations, delusions, and stupor. She frequently accused the staff of poisoning her, but they were accustomed to such claims and paid them no mind. On occasion, she would angrily accuse Pop of neglecting her or weepingly accuse him of cheating on her. He was able to hold her hand and smile because neither allegation was currently true.
Dad spent more time at the hospital than he ever had, it being a bad year for people who wanted to avoid strange ailments. His diagnostic success rate was 98 percent, and he berated himself and his staff for the missing 2 percent. That meant turnover and more headaches for Don Ebermeyer, the new Dean of Medicine.
Aunt Lisa still chaired the Board, but she had left administration behind for a very fulfilling and lucrative career in writing and lecturing. Jack enjoyed her pieces on medical ethics, and was always amused at how many of her examples he could see Dad’s handiwork in.
Jack went to classes, studied, spent time with friends, squeezed out visits home when possible, and wrote. His first published piece had been an essay on health care, and he strongly suspected Aunt Lisa and Dad of pulling strings behind the scenes for that. His second published piece was a short story in a literary journal he was certain no one read, until Dad sent him a copy covered with red notations. He was pleased to see his own piece received fewer corrections than the rest.
Deep in a desk drawer, he had three chapters, five character sketches, and a plot outline for a novel called Cauliflower Tail. Pop had read what he had so far, but he planned to let it get a little further before sharing it with Dad.
***
In a final act of kindness, Elaine died when Jack was already in New Jersey. It was the “spring” break they had in early March, in Jack’s fifth year at Michigan. She died on Thursday and was buried on Saturday, and Jack’s flight back to Ann Arbor was on Sunday.
He had asked Pop if he should stay for shiva, the traditional seven-day mourning period for family members of the deceased. Pop shook his head. “No, go back to school.”
“But Elaine’s family will expect –”
“I’ll handle them. You’ve done all a friend needs to do.” He smiled gently, cupped Jack’s cheek briefly, and went back to sit silently with Elaine’s mother and father.
Things were atrociously busy his first week back to school, and he didn’t get a chance to call home until Friday evening. He tried Dad first.
“Hi, Dad. Haven’t heard from Pop this week.”
“Yep, they’re still sitting. Mirrors covered, clothes rent, no smiling – all the proper things for a God who’s not watching anyway. But Wilson’s always liked doing the right thing, and I suppose it does make Elaine’s parents feel better.”
“You sound distracted, Dad. What are you doing?” Jack played idly with the tail of his shirt.
“Finishing packing. Shiva’s over tomorrow, the Kaminskys will leave, and I’m going home.”
“You’re –” Jack lost his breath for a brief second. “You’re moving back in with Pop?”
“Yep.”
“Not that I don’t think that’s the most brilliant idea you’ve ever had, but do you think maybe it’s too soon?”
“Too soon for what? Wilson’s done his duty, and I’ve done mine. And emotionally, he’s been grieving Elaine for three years. I should think that would be enough for anyone.”
A wild bird beat its wings in Jack’s chest, and he had to close his eyes for a minute. “Well, that’s… excellent,” he said lamely. “Give Pop a kiss for me when you get there.”
“No.”
“What?”
“The kind of kisses you would give your father are not the kind I’ll be giving Wilson.”
“Dad.”
“We’ll call you tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that.”
“I get it. I love you, Dad.”
“Love you. Bye.”
He tried not to be miffed that it took them four days to call him. Then he tried not to be amused at the lazy drawl Pop could not seem to shake and the smug satisfaction that rang in every word Dad said.
Two weeks later, he called on a Sunday night just to say hello, and got some very interesting news from Pop.
“So we decided we’re going to come out at the hospital. It’ll be tomorrow.”
“Now? After all this time? You don’t have to.”
“I know. Your father wants to. He says it’s either that or he’s outing me in the Journal of Clinical Oncology.”
“Of course, I’d do that anyway if the stupid journal sold ad space.”
“House, what are you doing on the extension?”
“Ad space is a good money-making idea. Why haven’t you ever thought of it, Dr. Editor-in-Chief?”
“Because it’s not actually a good idea. Get off the phone, House, and finish making me dinner.”
Click.
“Dad’s actually making you dinner?”
“He’s transferring the food from the takeout cartons to real plates. He’s also supposed to be opening wine for me, but he LOST the CORKSCREW.”
Jack rolled his eyes and faintly heard “Yeah, yeah, yeah” in the background.
“So, how are you going to come out? Announcement over the PA? Joint memo on the Clinic bulletin board?”
“We’re actually doing things separately. I’ve got everything ready on my end, but I have no idea what House has planned. He doesn’t know what I’m doing, either. Says we need an air of mystery to keep things lively. I don’t know; everything seems pretty lively to me.”
Pop gave a small gasp, and the background noise grew louder, as if the phone had come away from Pop’s ear.
Jack heard Dad’s voice carrying across a distance of a foot or two. “Bye, Jack. Pop has to go; Daddy’s hungry and wants to eat.” There was a thump, as if the receiver had dropped to the carpet. Jack hastily hung up his phone and decided to pretend Dad was talking about the take-out.
Jack had long been accustomed to seeing “Your Father Is Insane” as the subject line of emails from Aunt Lisa. The twist of “Both Your Fathers Are Insane,” however, was remarkable enough to catch his eye the next afternoon.
“I would have known that something was up,” the email read, “if Ebermeyer had told me that House agreed to give a lecture on diagnostics for all new residents. But I still would not have expected the folie a deux that greeted the hospital today.
“Exhibit 1 from this morning’s Board Meeting.”
What followed seemed to Jack, at first, to be a normal picture of Pop, smiling and seated at a conference table. The he adjusted his computer screen slightly, and the message on Pop’s tie came into sharp relief: “TAKEN,” stitched into the fabric in letters two inches high.
“Exhibit 2, exiting the meeting.”
The back of Pop’s lab coat was no longer an expanse of white. It was covered with a cartoon image of a ball and chain, with “Greg House” emblazoned on the ball in neon green.
“Exhibit 3, in the lecture hall.”
The photographer had caught Dad mid-rant: mouth open wide, right arm leaning heavily on his cane, and left arm flung up in the air. It allowed for a perfect view of his shirt, which had an enormous pink heart and the words “MY HEART BELONGS TO JIMMY.”
“Exhibit 4. It’s House, but don’t ask me who took this picture.”
The last picture was a bit fuzzier than the rest, but Jack could see that it was the back of a pair of jeans. The patch on the left cheek read “Property of” and the patch on the right cheek read “James Wilson.”
Five minutes later, when his laughs had turned to hiccups, he relabeled the email “Insanity: Nurture or Nature?” and forwarded it to Teddy, Josh, and Mary.
***
It was 7:48 a.m. on a Wednesday when Jack’s phone rang. He was confused and a bit perturbed as he looked at the clock. Who the hell was calling this early? He was only up at that time because – oh, it was Pop.
“Hi, Pop. What’s up?”
“Jack, hi. You know, when I was young, nobody had caller ID. You had to ask to find out who was calling.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and you walked seven miles to school uphill both ways. Do you call everyone you know this early to meander through the past, or just me?”
Pop’s reply sounded something like “Hmp.” Then there was a pause that went on long enough to make Jack slightly nervous.
“Pop? You there?”
“Sorry. You sounded so much like your father then; it surprised me.”
Jack cradled the phone with his shoulder as he pulled the ground coffee from the freezer and the cold water from the fridge. “Where is Dad?”
“Still in bed. Listen,” Pop replied, “I called to wish you all the best on your exam today.”
“Thanks.” He measured the coffee out for the coffeemaker, exactly the way Pop had taught him. Dad went by eye, but Jack couldn’t stand it when his coffee was too weak or too strong.
“So this is your last exam ever, isn’t it? That’s exciting.”
“It’s pretty cool. Then just one year of clinical rotations, and I’ll finally be out in the real world making some actual money.”
“We’re so proud of you. What time’s your exam?”
“Nine o’clock on the dot.” Jack drummed his fingers on the counter. This coffeemaker brewed nicely, but it took forever.
“Then what are you doing this afternoon?” Pop continued.
“Lunch with some friends from the class.” That brought to mind breakfast, so Jack poked in the refrigerator to see if he had any fruit. He continued, “Then I’m going to Mary’s.”
“I like Mary.” Pop’s voice was warm.
“So do I.”
Mary was the sweetest woman Jack had ever met, but she had a resilience at her core that was amazing. Funny as hell, too. Jack had to smile.
“Why don’t you call me when you’re at Mary’s? I want to find out how the exam went.”
“OK.” Hey, apples. Why had he put apples in the fridge? They’d probably be too cold to eat now.
“I have to go and get the door, sweetheart. Good luck again, and call me from Mary’s.”
The apple was cold, but Jack was hungry. “Yeah, all right. Give Dad a kiss for me.”
“Of course. Bye.”
“Bye, Pop.” Jack wondered for a moment who would be at Pop’s door so early, but he was distracted by the wonderful aroma of coffee. Finally! He was going to need the caffeine to get through this exam.
The exam was every bit as much of a bear as he had thought it would be, but after three grueling hours it was finally over. Lunch was a blast – they all felt so incredibly free, and the pitcher of margaritas helped the mood, too.
By the time he got to Mary’s, Jack’s tension was entirely gone. Mary was in a great mood, too, and they celebrated in a very playful and satisfying manner. Afterwards, he felt boneless, drained, and it was all he could do to drape himself across the couch and watch Mary as she read.
“Weren’t you supposed to call your Pop?” she prompted him.
“I don’t think I have the energy to go all the way over there and get my phone,” he replied languorously. He would have batted his eyelashes, but Mary was already moving.
“You lazy git,” she commented with a laugh, as she handed him the phone. “You’re making me dinner tonight, you know.”
“Of course, darling.” He punched in the numbers for Pop’s cell. It was 3:30; Pop would probably be done with rounds by now.
Pop answered on the first ring. “Jack?”
“I thought you were anti-caller-ID today.”
“No, this morning I was just – thinking about the past.” Pop sounded a little wistful. “How was the exam?”
“A three-hour nightmare, but I think I did fine. Good enough to pass, certainly, and employers are all about the degree, not the grades, right?”
Pop ignored him completely, which was a little annoying. “You’re at Mary’s, right? What’s she doing? Is she there with you?”
“Yeah, she’s right here. What’s with the third degree?”
“That’s good; I’m glad she’s there.”
God, Pop was getting spacey in his old age. He sounded wistful again.
“Was there something else, Pop?”
“Yes, Jack, there is. I’m sorry to say that – No one is ever prepared to hear – Oh, I used to have to say this all the time. Why can’t I say it now?”
Shit. Someone had cancer. Who was it? Grandpa House? The guy was 93; it was a miracle he hadn’t had it yet.
“Pop, it’s OK. Just tell me.”
Jack heard a soft sigh and then, “Your Dad died last night.”
“What?” He felt instantly cold. The shock must have shown on his face, because Mary was there beside him, her arm around his shoulders.
“He died in his sleep. Heart attack, they think. We went to bed last night, and I woke up, and he… didn’t.”
“Oh, Pop, you woke up with him dead next to you? That must have been the worst.” Mary hugged him, hard, and laid her head on his chest and neck.
“No, Jack. If he hadn’t been there, hadn’t been with me, that would have been the worst. I had hoped we’d have more time, but he was 72, and the pain, and the medication… The last six weeks have been amazing. I’m so grateful.”
“Oh, Pop. Oh, Pop.” Jack’s brain was stuck, and all he could do was press the phone tighter to his ear. Then a realization struck.
“This morning, when you called, he was already gone.”
“Oh, yes, sweetheart. I was waiting for the coroner and decided to wish you luck on your exam.”
“Why didn’t you tell me then?” The irritation that flared was a nice distraction from the cold that was still permeating his body.
“You needed to take your exam, and I didn’t want you to be distracted. Your Dad would have killed me.”
That struck Jack as incredibly funny and the urge to laugh temporarily wiped out the irritation and the cold. He kept himself from vocalizing it, though, afraid any laughter might have an hysterical edge to it.
Jack finally realized how Pop was sounding: detached, floating. “Pop, are you OK? You’re not alone, are you?”
“No, no. Cuddy’s here with me, and the Turners from next door, and a few friends from the hospital. Your Grandma Wilson will be here tonight. Grandpa Wilson’s too sick to come, but she’ll be here.” People around, thank God. Aunt Lisa would take charge and keep Pop grounded.
“Did you call Grandpa House?”
“Cuddy did that.” Thank you, Aunt Lisa. “I don’t think he’ll come to the service. He’s… old.”
“He’s a coot.”
Mary was still hugging Jack; he shifted and brought her into his lap so that he could lean into her better.
“Yes, he’s a coot, but he did love your father, even if House couldn’t see that all the time. He’s used to a proper Christian service, though, and this won’t be it. I think he’ll stay home.”
“It’s all right.”
“Yes, it is. It’d be nice if you called him. Tomorrow, if you don’t feel it up to it today.”
“I will, Pop.”
“Do you think Mary could come with you when you come home? I’ll cover the tickets.”
Jack gave Mary an extra squeeze. “I think she’ll come. But you don’t have to pay for it.”
“I want to. Please let me. I’m so used to paying for things, and who will I have to buy for now?” Tears were threatening in Pop’s voice, and the lump in Jack’s throat swelled.
“I’ll be on the next flight.”
“Oh, no, sweetheart.” Pop sighed and pulled himself together a bit. “Stay there tonight and rest. Come tomorrow. There’s no rush. We’ll have a service, um, Cuddy is thinking this weekend. House wanted his body donated to science, so there’s no casket, and really no rush.”
“You going to have a marker for him somewhere? A plaque?”
“A wing of the hospital, I was thinking. He really did have a lot of money saved. Oh, if that’s all right with you. I guess it’s your money now.”
“Dad made a will. It’s in a safe deposit box, and I have a key. But no matter what the will says, the money is yours, Pop. In a just world, you would have commingled your money a long time ago, because you would have been married to Dad all these years.”
“Oh, Jack, I was in my heart.” Pop paused and then sighed. “I’m going to go now; I think I might lie down. Let Mary take good care of you, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Why don’t you call Aunt Lisa when you get your flights settled? She’ll have someone come pick you up.”
“I love you, Pop.”
“I love you so much, Jack. Bye now.”
Mary took the phone from him and hung it up. She rubbed his back and murmured soft, comforting words as he cried.
***
He called Aunt Lisa later that afternoon.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she said. “I am so sorry for your loss. It’s the hospital’s loss, too, and my loss as well.”
“Thank you. That means a lot.” Jack sighed and squeezed Mary’s hand.
“Did you find a flight?” Aunt Lisa asked gently.
“Mary and I are taking a flight to Philadelphia that gets in around 11 am.”
“Email me the details and I’ll have a car pick you up. I’d offer to get you myself, but there’s so much I want to do here. Wilson is trying to help, but he’s really not up to it right now. He’ll be glad when you get here.”
“Maybe I should come tonight, then.”
“No, you should stay there and try to get some rest. Tomorrow is fine.” She paused momentarily. “I would like to ask you something, though. Would you please speak at House’s service?”
Jack looked up into Mary’s face. She smiled gently and squeezed his hand. “I don’t know. It’s fine with me, but I don’t know if Dad would want me to.”
“House, for once, is not going to get the last word. Most of the people who are going to attend the service only knew him professionally. It was a very select few who knew him personally. Everyone knows he was a great mind; I want them to see he was human.”
It was so typically Aunt Lisa that he almost laughed. “I see. I’ll try to come up with something.”
“Thank you, Jack. Send me your flight info so I can send that car.”
***
The evening and the flight the next day passed in a blur. The driver Aunt Lisa had arranged took them straight to the hospital to see Dad in the morgue. He was clean-shaven; how strange was that? Jack touched his hair, his cheek, and his hand, and then had to leave.
The next clear thing Jack remembered was sitting next to Grandma Wilson on the couch at home. She was updating both him and Mary on the arrangements that had been made.
“So, when they took Greg’s body for science, we’ll count that as the burial. Now we’ll sit shiva seven days. The memorial service shouldn’t be in the middle, but not everyone’s Jewish, right? Lisa Cuddy, she is, she should know better, but perhaps it isn’t my place to say.”
Pop looked up from where he was sitting on the floor. “We’re not making Jack sit shiva, Mom.”
She looked startled, almost offended. “Of course he will sit. It was his father.”
Jack slid from the couch to the floor and looked at Pop. “I want to. I want to be with you, Pop.”
Pop smiled slightly, and continued, “Mary certainly doesn’t need to –”
Mary promptly turned and said, “Mrs. Wilson, I’m sorry to say that I don’t know what to do. Can you please show me? And how can I be of help to you?”
“What a good girl,” Grandma Wilson cooed, and took Mary’s hands in hers. “Modest. A beautiful match for my grandson.”
On Saturday evening, they had a hard time convincing Pop to change for the memorial service. When he’d realized Dad was dead, Pop had followed an old custom and torn what he was wearing. It happened to be a pajama top, one of Dad’s, too big for Pop and a terrible tartan pattern. Pop had worn it ever since.
“Pop, you have to change out of the pajama top,” Jack said pleadingly. “People will be staring at you instead of thinking about Dad.”
“House won’t care. Wouldn’t care, if he was there.”
“Plus it’s starting to smell, Pop. Come on, you can put it back on afterwards.”
Pop was blank, unmoving.
Mary came out of the bedroom and offered her finding to Pop. “This is such a lovely tie, Dr. Wilson. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to wear this?”
Pop took the tie, stared at it, ran it through his fingers.
Mary continued gently, “But it won’t go with what you’re wearing. Let’s get you a good collared shirt. And a suit jacket; you wouldn’t want to be cold.”
That was how Pop ended up at the memorial service in the “TAKEN” tie, which got him a few odd glances, but surely fewer than the pajama top would have. It wasn’t until Jack was at the podium for his eulogy, looking down at Pop, that the other appropriate meaning of that word struck him. He had to fight back tears or he would never make it through this.
Mary slid over into his seat and took Pop’s hand.
Jack swallowed and began.
“Hello. I haven’t met most of you, so let me introduce myself. My name is Jack Wilson, and Greg House was my father. Lisa Cuddy wanted me also to tell you that I’m studying to become a pharmacist. She said some of you might find that amusing.”
A light murmur of laughter floated amongst the crowd.
“Some of you might not even have known that House had a son. Recent events in the hospital notwithstanding, Dad liked to keep his life private.
“You might think that implies some shame. As a young child, I have to admit I sometimes did wonder about that. But as I grew up, I realized something Dad knew all along: for anything of value, you have to dig harder to find the truth.
“I’ve come to a new conclusion: that I was more important to my Dad than anything in the world. How do I know that? Because for a very long time, he gave up the second most important thing to him in a misguided but heartfelt attempt to keep me safe.” Pop was crying; Mary was rubbing his shoulder.
Jack blinked, swallowed, and continued, “I never wanted him to make that sacrifice; I begged him not to make it, but he did. How could anyone have shown greater love for me than that?”
He took a deep breath and looked at them all: Pop, Mary, Grandma Wilson, Aunt Lisa. Teddy and Leo further back. Dozens of people he’d forgotten or didn’t know. What words could ever tell them who Dad was, and what he meant to his son? If they didn’t know now, they weren’t ever going to.
“I have two beliefs about the afterlife,” Jack continued.
“The first is that you get the afterlife you think yourself into. If you believe you’re going to hell, you will. If you believe you’re going to heaven, you will.
“Dad believed that there was no afterlife, that life on earth was not just a test. So for him this is it; there is no more. It was a life to be proud of, Dad. You accomplished a lot, saved a lot of lives. Other people have recounted your successes today, so I don’t need to repeat them. I’ll just say you were on an almost quixotic quest for perfection, and at work you almost made it.
“I do have to report that you made some big mistakes, too. You talked yourself out of a lot of happiness. Happiness that was legitimately yours but you refused to take. I’m trying to learn from that, Dad, and gain success in my life in a broader sense.”
He stopped, looked down, looked back up across the crowd.
“My second belief about the afterlife is that God has infinite capacity and infinite compassion. He doesn’t just make us a clump of angels hanging around the same cloud. We each get our own Heaven, with the places and people we loved best in it.
“So although Dad is gone completely and will never see me again, I’ll see him again some day. I have to. He took a large chunk of my heart away with him, and I want it back.”
Jack stumbled coming away from the podium, but Pop was there to catch him. They cried together, standing there, and Jack remembered his grandmother’s funeral. “You and me have a greater supply, Pop,” he whispered, and Pop hugged him tighter.
“Your father was a stupid man,” Pop whispered back.
“I know,” Jack replied as he straightened up and wiped his face. “We’ll clobber him for it in heaven, huh?”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Page 1 of 5