Homecoming did not feel like coming home at all.

I was seeing L.A. through the eyes of a visitor, or a foreigner who was so far unimpressed. I mean, it was all the same as it had always been, as it had been the last time I was here. The lights, the spectacular view of the city as we came in to land, the sweltering heat pressing in from all sides. It was home exactly as I remembered it, right down to the passive disinterest of everyone we encountered once we got off the jet. Everything was there, but it was like watching a black and white film detailing events you had been a part of.

I knew, though, that I was the problem. Los Angeles had not changed. I had, so irrevocably and in such a short time. For one, I had not been overawed when I got onto the jet that morning. Not nearly as much as the first time. I had no idea what to make of that. Part of it was because of the man who got onto the jet with me, of course. Saul had made the arrangements quickly and with apparent ease. He had seemed right at home making phone calls and scribbling half-formed thoughts onto scraps of paper. But when the day finally dawned, I noticed he was visibly nervous.

Of course, I thought. He has not been to L.A. in over two years. And my heart went out to the man, suddenly guilty that I had made him do this without really thinking about how difficult it would be for him. Still, his unease had the opposite effect on me. I was the one who nodded when the pilot greeted us to the plane with a genial “Good morning, Mr. and Mr. McCormick.” I picked out the champagne when we sat down. For the first time, I felt like I belonged, like this world was not so foreign.

So the sight of the L.A. skyline brought with it a sinking feeling. Somewhere in that maze was the ghost of my past life. It seemed such a silly little shell of an existence, now that I thought about it. My life was so much fuller now.

“Looks about the same,” Saul commented, his eyes scanning the airport.

“Smells about the same, too,” I agreed.

Saul smiled.

“Shall we go straight to see your father?” he asked. “Or is there some place you want to visit first? Some one?”

Where would I even go? I had decided not to tell Jess I was coming on some half-hearted plan to surprise her. I was not so attached to my favorite coffee shops, malls, beaches and joints to make a tour of it. Not now. I didn’t have much of a life outside my family and friends, now that I thought about it. Either way, this trip was about my dad.

“No,” I said. “In and out, like we discussed. I don’t want some groupie spotting you and splashing you on Instagram.”

“Ah, yes. We wouldn’t want that.”

We set off walking towards a small entourage of men in suits and black SUVs.

“I tried not to ask, but what exactly is Instagram?”

I stopped walking and turned to Saul, my mouth open.

“What?” I asked, my voice incredulous.

“Instagram. Is that like the new Facebook?”

“Wooow. How have we not discussed this before? I know it has been a while, but damn, hubby.”

“Hey, the whole point of moving to the mountains was so I wouldn’t have to keep up with all these annoying social trends.”

“Oh, I thought it was to get away from the glare of Hollywood.”

“That too. But you’ve been in the mountains with me for over a month. I bet you have no idea what is going on in the world.”

“Fair point. For all we know, they could have made another Star Wars prequel. Or the Dodgers could have won the World Series.”

“Are you not going to tell me what Instagram is about?” Saul pressed, a little impatiently. We had resumed walking, and were now approaching the SUV.

“I don’t know if I can, to be honest. It’s a platform where millennials post photos of their most mundane activities. And food. Especially food.”

“Just millennials?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Why do they post these photos?”

“For their fifteen minutes of fame, I guess?”

“So you’re worried someone will post pictures of me on their Instagram?”

I had assumed Saul was simply curious about the Instagram phenomenon, but I heard the barely concealed anxiety in his voice and realized what that could potentially mean for him. Discretion was crucial during this trip. Saul was worried about being recognized.

“I was joking, really,” I said, trying and failing to sound dismissive.

Saul was staring into space, deep in thought.

One of the men in suits greeted us warmly as we got to the car. He was lifting bags into the trunk when Saul called back to him.

“What car do you drive, Dave?”

Dave looked from Saul to me, clearly confused. I thought I had seen him before. He was one of the men who had first received me when I was going to airport. It seemed he was employed by the McCormicks.

“Sir?” he sputtered.

“Car, Dave. Which one?”

“I’m using my dad’s old Buick?” he said it in a small voice, and his arms went up as if to shield from the inevitable criticism. But Saul smiled.

“Excellent,” Saul said. “What do you think, Kyler? That sounds inconspicuous enough, right?”

I did not know enough about cars to agree with him, but anything would have been less conspicuous than that gleaming SUV with its tinted windows. I had a sudden vision of Saul and me crammed into Jess’s Beetle and smiled.

“Yeah, I think that will do.”

It was a nice, functional car. On inconspicuous points it certainly scored high. Saul got behind the wheel, and I gathered from his grin that it had been a while since he had driven himself. Or at all. It took him a while to get used to the stick shift, but he eventually pulled out of the airport parking without incident. We set off, and he reminded me to direct him as we got onto the highway.

As we drove, the feeling of alienation returned. All around I could see the bustle of life, people zooming this way and that in that manic way that all city dwellers did. Their lives were spent in third gear, never stopping to look at the beautiful day or even to notice the people around them. It made me nostalgic for the mountains and my real home. Right about now, Saul and I would be waking up. He would be reaching over to me, feeling for my morning boner and poking me in the thigh with his. If he was feeling frisky, he would simply spread my cheeks slightly apart and slide into me with a slow, sure stroke…

“Kyler?” Saul called, as if from miles away. I forced my mind to return to the car and the present. “You’re supposed to be directing me, remember?”

We pulled into Cranberry Woods half an hour later. The inhabitants were still stirring, the day just beginning for them. I felt a heavy sense of trepidation as we walked up the steps leading to the entrance, and I wasn’t sure why. Saul noticed it and reached over, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze. I felt a rush of affection towards him.

We waited briefly as one of the other nurses went in search of Rachael, my dad’s attending nurse. Saul commented that it was a lovely place, and I nodded, distracted. I had not thought about what state we would find my dad in. What if he did not recognize me this time? What if his condition had worsened? I cursed myself for not calling ahead, but then realized it would not have made much of a difference. I wanted to see my dad, no matter his condition.

The grim expression on Nurse Rachael’s face when she came rushing over was all the confirmation I needed. It was like icy cold water had been poured down my back.

“How bad is it?” I asked her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but then her eyes fell on Saul, and she did a double take. She stared at him blankly, openly, and I knew she was trying to figure out if she knew him from somewhere. I felt Saul’s body go rigid beside me.

“Nurse Rachael?” I prompted her. “My father? Is everything okay?”

Her eyes snapped back to me, and the worry returned to her face.

“No, I wouldn’t say that it is. Korbin is… Maybe it’s best if you see for yourself.”

It took a concerted effort to put one foot in front of the other and follow Nurse Rachael as she hurried down the hall. I noticed they had moved my dad from his old room; Rachael walked right past his old room, and we went further and further into the building, eventually turning into an empty section. There was a door at the very end of a quiet, seemingly lifeless corridor.

Rachael led the way, her steps making slapping sounds on the concrete as she walked. When she got to the door, she pulled out a key and opened the door.

“Why is the door locked?” I asked, confused.

As if in answer, the door slid open, and a chilling scream reached us from inside the room.

Saul pushed past me and stepped into the room first. I followed close behind him.

I saw my dad sitting up on a narrow bed. He looked so calm I was sure the scream had come from someone else. But there was no one else in the room. A quick scan confirmed that it was almost identical to his last room. There was a small table on one side of the room with a small stack of books, and the bed on the other. Unlike the previous room, though, this one was decidedly claustrophobic. The curtains on the window were drawn. There were no happy photos on the wall, no trinkets or trophies from his various victories.

But the thing that stood out the most was Korbin Nielson himself.

Dad looked lost. His eyes were wide and wild. He looked around once, scanning the faces of everyone who walked into the room, and then, without warning, he screamed again. I wondered if he was in pain, but there were no physical signs of hurt.

“Who are you?” he screamed. “Where am I? What have you done to me?”

I looked over to Nurse Rachael, unsure what to do or even say.

“He woke up worse than before,” she explained. “He seems to have no recollection of anything from the last few months. He does not recognize anyone, and he seems to think he has been abducted or something like that. He was starting to get violent with the other patients, so we had to isolate him.”

“Violent?” I asked in disbelief.

“I’m afraid so. He thought one of the other guys was trying to attack him and pushed him away. It wasn’t much of a push, but the guy has a bad hip and he could have been hurt.”

That sounded nothing like my dad. But then, the man who was on that bed looked nothing like the dad I knew.

Saul seemed the only one of us not to have been paralyzed into inactivity. As soon as he got a sense of the situation, he started moving towards my dad with his arms raised, palms reaching outwards in a gesture of appeasement. Dad eyed him warily.

“Mr. Nielson?” Saul called gently, taking a few more steps towards him.

“Are you the police?” my dad asked, his eyes still darting this way and that. “Have you come to get me?”

“Yes, I am. This is my partner Kyler. Please relax, Mr. Nielson. No one is going to hurt you.”

Dad looked over at me, and it broke my heart that there was no recognition there, only cold disbelief. Something in him seemed to finally break, like he had been holding on too long and finally decided to give up. His body sank into the bed, and his head fell back into the pillow.

“Good, good,” he said without raising his head.

Saul had gotten to his bed by then.

“Will you tell me what happened, sir?” he asked softly.

Dad raised his torso slightly so he could look at Saul directly. I don’t know why, but it looked like he had decided to trust him.

“I don’t know, officer...”

“McCormick.”

“Right. Well, the last thing I remember is going to sleep in my house last night, and waking up in this strange place this morning. No one will tell me where I am, or what’s going on. These people keep acting like they know who I am, but I don’t know any of them!”

“And where is your home?”

“Silver Lake.”

“Well, this is a hospital, Mr. Nielson. You had a medical emergency and you were brought in for treatment.”

“What medical emergency?”

Saul hesitated. I could almost hear his brain whirring.

“You were having trouble breathing,” I said quickly. It wasn’t that big of a stretch. He had had mild issues with sleep apnea before. “The doctors thought it would be best to keep you here, under observation for a few more hours.”

Dad stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time. I had no idea what he was thinking, and that frustrated me to no end. I never had to guess what was going on in his head before. I stared back at him, aware that in that moment I wasn’t his son Kyler in his eyes, but a stranger, and a cop for that matter. I thought I saw the suspicion begin to creep back in.

“Why are you not in uniform?” he asked suddenly.

Saul and I exchanged glances.

“Where are your badges? Aren’t you supposed to show me your badges?”

I opened my mouth, flailing for a workable excuse. Saul was mumbling something about being off the clock, but it didn’t matter. Dad moved faster than I would have thought possible. He leapt from the bed in a single bound and darted between the two of us, heading for the door. Neither of us reacted in time. He caught us completely by surprise, which I imagine was his plan.

I turned around just in time to see Nurse Rachael backing away as my dad bolted past her, swung the door open and disappeared down the corridor. Shortly after, his footfalls were interwoven with shouts of “Help!” And then, before I could move, there came another sound, far more sickening. It was a crunch, a dull thud that I knew meant my dad had fallen down.

My heart raced as I sprinted from the room. My legs were made of lead. My mind was blank with panic. I was barely aware of Nurse Rachael and Saul, though I knew they were running beside me.

Dad was lying completely still a few feet down the corridor. My knees gave way, and I collapsed onto the floor. With a trembling hand, I reached over and checked his pulse. It was faint but I could just feel it. His eyes were closed. He looked like he was simply sleeping.

“We need to get him back to the room,” Nurse Rachael said. She did a quick check on his vitals, lifting his eyelids gingerly, checking his pulse and breathing and then feeling around the back of his head for any injuries. “You two carry him back to bed, and I’ll run and fetch the doctor.”

She set off at a brisk pace, going back the way we had come.

Saul motioned for me to grab his legs. He lifted him by the torso, and together we shuffled back to the room, bearing his weight between us. We lay him gently on the bed and covered him all the way up to the chin. I noticed my hands were still trembling.

“Fuck.”

“I’m sorry, Kyler,” Saul said.

We stood there in silence for what was probably only minutes, but it seemed like hours. My head snapped up when the door reopened. A short, bespectacled man walked into the room, with Rachael trailing him closely. I recognized him from the first day I had brought my dad to Cranberry Woods. He was one of the resident doctors.

“Hi,” he said, offering a hand to me and then to Saul. “I’m Doctor Whitaker.”

He proceeded to perform a quick examination of my dad, nodding every now and then. Eventually, he turned back to me.

“He seems to be fine,” he said. I let out a breath I had not realized I was holding.

“Falling is a very risky thing for a dementia patient, especially at his age. That, coupled with the increased lapses in awareness, is a clear indicator of a rapidly advancing condition. It’s progressing faster than we had anticipated…”

He trailed off, and the weight of his words hung heavy in the air like a cloud.

“What does that mean?” I asked him.

“It forces us to accept that his dementia is no longer something we can hope to treat. Not at the rate his symptoms are progressing. I’m afraid he will only keep getting worse. Today’s fall does not appear to have caused visible harm, but it means he is beginning to lose control of his faculties and motor functions. In a few weeks, or even days, he won’t be able to leave his bed.”

“So you’re saying there’s nothing that can be done?”

“No, son. I’m not saying that at all. He’s at a critical stage of his condition, which means we have to monitor him very closely. With the increased susceptibility to infections and other illnesses, his body won’t be able to defend itself as well, so he needs round the clock attention. I would advise getting him a hospice.”

“Does that mean we can bring him home?”

“Yes. I know a few hospice services that are very good. If you agree to it, we can begin to look into it, and begin to plan to move your father home for that personal care. Do you live close by?”

“No, we don’t,” Saul spoke up suddenly. I had almost forgotten he was there. He was looking at me with a fierce intensity that almost felt possessive.

“But I’ll make all the arrangements for moving Mr. Nielson,” Saul went on. “He should be with his loved ones. We can airlift him home. Will that work?”

Home. Our home.

“Yes, it should.”

“Good. How soon can we do it?”

“As soon as possible, I think. We will monitor him through the week, and I can begin to look into some hospice options. Let’s say, Saturday?”

“That’s okay.”

“I should mention, sir. Hospice care can be a bit expensive.”

“No, no. I’ll take care of everything.”

All the while I was silent, hardly daring to believe what I was hearing. For the first time since we arrived in L.A., I felt an overpowering urge to cry. It was far too kind of Saul to offer to help like that. Already, the money I was getting from him was going directly into Korbin’s care. And now he was opening up his home too. It wasn’t just a gesture, it meant the world to me. I doubted I would be able to express my gratitude to him. I felt the emotion well up in my chest and constrict my throat. I had to look away from him to stop from bursting into tears right then.

I kissed my dad on the cheek as we left. He looked so peaceful it was hard to imagine that face had been contorted with rage and confusion a few moments earlier.

“I’ll be back for you in no time at all, Dad,” I whispered to him. “Stay strong for me. I love you.”

It wasn’t until we were back on the plane that I was able to figure out that swell of emotion I had felt towards Saul back in that room. I had always known it, I suppose. Deep down. But now I was sure of it, and it filled me, simultaneously, with dread and hope.

Saul was holding me, his eyes glazed over, clearly lost in thought. He was tracing small patterns on the back of my hand with his fingers, and I was reminded of our first night together, and how that very same touch had set my whole body on fire.

I sat up and reached out to him, turning his head to face me. He smiled indulgently at me, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

“I love you,” I said to him.

I said it much too fast; the words spilled out of my mouth in a flurry.

Saul’s eyebrows shot up, but his expression remained unreadable.

“I know what we are,” I went on in a rush. “I know what you said about not wanting a relationship, and I know the basis of what we have. But I don’t care about any of that. I love you, Saul McCormick. Truly. I want you to know that.”

He gave no indication that he had heard me. His eyes were locked on mine, his face still in my hands. He stared at me so intently, like he was trying to read my mind. He didn’t need to. I had already told him all there was to my mind, and it began and ended with him.

After an unbearably long time, during which I debated jumping off the plane, he gave the tiniest nod of his head. I had no idea whether it was an acknowledgement that he had heard me, or if he was just processing the information. But I knew that was all I was getting. And that was okay.

I nuzzled back onto his chest. Eventually, he slipped his hand back around my torso and went back to making languid motions on my hand with his fingers. We were silent the rest of the way home. When at last the looming wall that was the Roch Mountains came into view, I felt right away that I was back where I belonged.