Chapter 1 - Dave

The first Thursday of the month is always a good day. It’s Steak and Cigars with my grandfather, our monthly ritual that has lasted through the years. Well, almost. I’ve been busy with work and life this past little while and I haven’t been back to the big house on Long Island in just over three months.

I pat my chest to make sure the fine Cuban cigars are still tucked away in my jacket. Feeling them safe in my breast pocket, I nod to myself and swing my legs out of the car. I slam the door to my all-black Mercedes, smoothing my hair down in the reflection from the tinted black windows. That car was my birthday present to myself this year: things have been going well at the plastic surgery practice where I work. I’ve just gotten a raise, my clients are booking more procedures with me and my work is starting to get noticed across the state. Things are good, really good. I whistle to myself as I turn towards the house.

My footsteps crunch on the white gravel underneath me as I walk up the winding pathway to my grandfather’s house. There’s a bounce in my step.

I get to the tall double oak doors and grab the handle. I never ring the doorbell - they’re always expecting me on Thursday dinner nights. I push the heavy gold-coloured handle down and to my surprise, it doesn’t swing downwards when I press it. It’s locked. I frown, fishing in my pockets for my keys. It must be the new live-in nurse, I tell myself. She doesn't know how things work yet.

I sigh, trying not to judge her too harshly before I’ve even met her. It’s been a long process to find this nurse. I’ve already had to fire two other nurses for making mistakes with his medication and care regimen. He sounds happy enough with her, but I’m hoping to use this meal as a gauge to see if she really is taking care of him properly. Finally I find my key an slide it into the lock, swinging the door open and stepping through.

“Pop! Hope you’ve got the grill ready!” I call out into the huge house. I close the door behind me and wipe my shoes on the plush foyer carpet.

“In here,” comes a faint voice from the living room to the left. I can almost imagine where he’ll be sitting, in his favourite leather wing-backed chair facing the front window, book in hand. It feels good to be home.

I walk the few steps towards the room and turn the corner.

I am not prepared for what I see.

I try not to let the shock show on my face. Horror, even. I feel a sense of anger growing in me slowly, curling up in the pit of my stomach towards my throat. They’ve been hiding his decline from me! The in-home care company should be telling me everything. The housekeeper could have told me, or hell, even Neville the gardener could have picked up the phone and called.

I should have been here.

Pop is frail and wrinkled. His skin looks paper thin as he sits in his chair, heavy blanket thrown over his legs. He’s got a book in his hands but it’s closed, hands folded over it on his lap. I take a deep breath and try to rearrange my features to hide the torrent of emotions inside of me.

“Pop! How have you been?” My voice sounds strange. It sounds forced, and just a bit too loud in the big room. There’s a chill in the air that I’ve never felt before.

“Davey, come over here,” Pop croaks, raising a thin arm and waving his curled hand towards me. Even straightening his fingers seems like it’s too much of an effort. “I would get up but these old bones aren’t made for movement much anymore.”

“Sit, sit,” I tell him. “Don’t move for me.” I try to ignore the lump in my throat as I take a seat on the long sofa to his right. He turns his head slowly and smiles at me. I feel my throat tighten as I see how difficult every movement is for him.

“So tell me about your promotion, Davey. You’ve been doing well at work, I’m proud of you.” His voice seems so watery, and the way he’s moving is like he’s swimming in molasses. Everything just seems so laboured.

“Ah, you know how it is, Pop! They seem happy enough with me.” I force a smile. “I want to talk about you though!” I lean in and glance around conspiratorially. “How’s the new nurse. She treating you ok?”

Pop grins. “She’s doing a fine job, David. Don’t worry about me one bit.” He almost never uses my full name. He looks at me for a second longer and I feel like something is off. I nod and lean back.

“As long as you’re happy,” I respond. I shift in my seat and can’t seem to get comfortable. He doesn’t say anything so I continue, glancing out the big front windows. “The lawn is looking good these days! Neville’s always been the best gardener in the state.” I’m not quite sure what to say right now, which is an unfamiliar feeling. Usually conversations with Pop come easily.

Pop nods and I hear him take a long difficult breath. I wince. He’s aged so much in the past months, I can hardly believe it.

Just when I start racking my brain to say something else, I hear soft footsteps behind me.

“Ok, Arthur, it’s time for your medication!” A gentle, musical voice rings out, and somewhere in the depths of my memory something stirs. I know that voice. Pop shifts in his seat and turns his head. He smiles at the woman behind me. I turn my head as well and my jaw almost drops to the ground.

This woman - the new nurse - is drop dead gorgeous. Her dark brown hair is pulled back in a low bun and her almond-shaped hazel eyes are bright and intelligent. She’s looking at Pop, carrying a small paper cup and a glass of water. Her white uniform is not quite form-fitting, but I can see the way it hugs the curve of her hips and betrays the body underneath it. I feel myself inhale sharply. I can’t help but notice the way her blouse pulls at the front and how she almost glides over the carpet towards us. My cock jumps up immediately and I shift in my seat to hide it.

I narrow my eyes and keep looking at her. She’s so familiar. My brow furrows as my eyes rake over her body. The realisation hits me and I fall back in my seat. I know who she is. My stomach curls and memories fill my head from ten years ago, from the accident that killed my family. Finally her eyes flick to me and she gives me a shy smile.

“Hi, Davey,” she says softly. “Long time no see.”

“David,” Pop says slowly. “You remember Isabelle?”