THE REAL LJ IDOL SEASON 7 WEEK 18 TIE-BREAKER -- CALL
BAD TIMING
June, 1986: I didn't bother calling out "Hello" when I walked into my family's house; I knew the place was empty. My mother and my siblings were all still at the hospital, where my father lay on his death bed, gasping for air like a fish out of water. I couldn't bear to be in the same room, or even the same building, as that horrid sight... so I volunteered to go home and "man the phone". I'm sure I wasn't fooling anyone about my motives, but the excuse was still valid: we didn't own an answering machine, and several of my siblings were expecting important calls. Our father may be dying, but the world kept turning.
I did my best not to think about what was going on... but to a fair degree, I knew the inevitable was imminent. My father had been sick for years, and he had gone downhill in a bad way in the past 6 months. Until that morning, I had hoped against hope that he might recover and gain a little more time to spend with us... but it just wasn't meant to be.
I was having a great deal of difficulty accepting what was happening, but in truth my father was at least slightly responsible for my deep state of denial. Dad was a very private man in certain ways, and he felt the rest of the world had no business knowing exactly how ill he was. Whenever friends and neighbors noticed that Dad was obviously feeling poorly, the old man would insist that he was "Fine, just fine"... and hearing Dad say that so often to so many people made it easier for me to believe the lie. After seeing the state Dad was in that morning, I knew that The Lord was about to call my father home. But knowing and accepting are two very different things...
I knocked around the empty house for about an hour before the phone rang. I answered it: "Hello?"
"Paul... he's... he's gone..." It was my sister Mary. "... just a few minutes ago."
My eyes welled up with tears and my throat became as dry as a desert, but I kept my voice even. "... Yeah. Yeah. How... how much longer are you going to be there?"
"... Another couple of hours, at least. There's... paperwork..."
I sighed. "... Figures. How's... how's Mom holding up?"
"... OK, so far... but... I don't think... it's really hit her yet..."
"... Well... stay close to her. She'll need support when it finally does hit her. I'll be here if you need me." With that, I hung up. What else was there to say?
I barely had time to walk away from the phone when it started ringing again. I picked up the receiver, half-expecting it to be Mary again, needing to speak to me about something else. "Hello?"
A cheerful, bubbly female voice replied: "Hi, Paul! It's Lisa! Is Mary around?"
Lisa was one of Mary's friends from college. She and Mary stayed in touch after graduation, but they only spoke to each other a few times each year. I had only met Lisa once or twice myself, but I remembered her as a very friendly, caring person.
"Uh... No, Lisa... Mary's out at the moment." I saw no reason at that instant to explain why Mary was "out". That was the way Dad had wanted it, and to be honest I didn't want to talk about it anymore. Hell, I didn't want to think about it anymore. I was on the verge of a total emotional breakdown, and I didn't want to pour my grief out over the phone to a near-stranger.
"Oh... Well, could you please have Mary call me when she gets back? She asked me to keep an eye out for any job openings that would be a good fit for her, and I think I found one." Lisa proceeded to describe the particulars for the position, which I dutifully wrote down. I was actually grateful to Lisa at that moment -- Not only was taking her message a deeply-needed distraction for me, but it helped assuage my guilt about not being at my father's bed-side at the end. I had gone home to take any important phone calls that might come, and damn it, I was doing just that.
"OK, Lisa, I got it. I'll make sure Mary sees this when she gets back." My immediate purpose being fulfilled, I was ready to conclude the call.
"Thanks, Paul! I appreciate it!" Lisa always was extremely friendly and enthusiastic. She was also fairly inquisitive. "So tell me, what's going on with you?
"How's your Dad?"
I suppose I can't be blamed for my reaction to those last three words... but I'd rather not talk about it.