That Damn Red Dress

"My dad doesn't need to get laid by some nurse with a degree in blow jobs." I waved my hand disgustedly. "This is what you think is a good idea?"

"I'm trying to help, Nicole. Now stop being a smart ass and hear me out."

"Sorry." I lowered my head. "I'm just a little..."

"Stressed out of your mind. Trust me. I want to help your dad as much for your sake as his. But please listen, okay?"

"Okay."

"It's not just the sex. What it will be about is closure. In a case like this, the surrogate won't just be there for sex, she'll be there to be your mother. We'll tell her everything so she'll know what she needs to say to him. Your father needs to say goodbye to his wife. She will let him do that and also tell him she wants him to be happy."

"Then why don't I just tell him that next time he thinks I'm her?" I asked.

"The intimacy is key. This is a man looking to say goodbye to his partner of over twenty years. Besides, he...he looked like that was what he wanted. Your aunt told me some things your mom told her." He looked away awkwardly, "Let's just say they were very active. Like every night kind of active, and they used to role play."

"Too much information," I told him, but recalled dad's little comments about games and the babysitter.

"Tell me about it, you forget your mom was my little sister. But that's important, the woman can be playful, and if she slips up a little, pretend it's a game."

"She won't look like her."

"My colleague knows several surrogates, and I gave her a picture of your mother. She says one of them has a resemblance, and trust me, with the right make up and..." He put his hands out as if pleading his case.

"It works, Nicole! The last case this woman had was a kid a little older than you who was obsessed with his mother. They used an older woman who looked like her to role play with him as his mother, and afterwards he began to have a normal relationship with his real mom because he...

"Mother?" I grimaced. "That's nasty."

"Incest fantasies are more common than you think. It's all over the internet."

"Whatever." I paused as something dawned on me. "Hey." I snapped my fingers. "I just realized something. He only thinks I'm mom or looks for her when he's drunk. He won't buy this when he is sober."

Uncle frowned. "Shit. I didn't think of that."

"You think he's going to walk into a room and say, "Well, you look like my wife. Why not?"

"It doesn't have to be in an office. It can be here."

"Here?"

"And..." he hesitated. "It doesn't sound like the most ethical thing, but we can do it when he's drunk. I mean, that's almost every night."

"That's..." I closed my eyes, trying to fight off the image of another woman in my mother's bed.

"There is precedent, and I'll be here as well. I'll be out here in case something..."

"Stop!" I snapped.

"What's the matter?"

"You want to get my father drunk when I'm trying to keep him from drinking?"

"Just one..."

"Then you're going to show up here with some bitch in a wig that's going to pretend to be my mother, and she's going to fuck my father in my mother's bed?"

"Nicole..."

"Are you fucking crazy?" I shouted at him. "I will not allow some fucking stranger to call herself my mother and act like a whore in her bed!"

"Calm down." He was using that professional tone and it fueled my rage.

"I will not!" I jumped, let my legs down, and stood up, "And don't talk to me like I'm a kid! I've been taking care of my father every day! You show up when you feel like it!"

"That's not true, Nicole."

"Bullshit! You were worried he might touch me last night, but you left didn't you?"

"I can't just sleep over, I have..."

"A wife and a life. I had a life too. But the point is, don't you dare talk down to me!"

"You're taking this the wrong way, Nicole."

"There is no other way to take it! You want me to let you trick my father with a fucking prostitute and do it in my mother's bed!"

"It will help him and..."

"I said no!" This came out in nothing short of a scream, and I kept going. "You will not bring a whore into my mother's bedroom to fuck my father! You won't!" He began to speak, but I raised my voice even more, "Hey, know what? Why don't we put a picture of mom on the bed so she can watch and really insult her memory?"

"Your mother would want him better no matter what it took."

"My mother would not want her memory defiled in her own bed! I don't give shit who you think you are. You're not doing it!"

"Fine, then in a motel, we..."

"Shut up!" I screamed. "What part of 'no' don't you understand! My father is not one of your guinea pigs! You thought this would make me happy? Then you don't give a shit about my mother!"

"Enough!" he yelled back at me. "That's enough! Now sit down!"

I'd never heard him raise his voice before, and stunned, I sat down on the couch.

"Now you listen to me." Getting up from the chair, he sat next to me on the couch and spoke in a low tone. I could hear his voice trembling. "When your mother died, everyone was worried about you and they should have been. They were worried about your dad and still are and they should be, but know what? Everyone seemed to forget that that was my little sister who died." He paused as his voice began to crack. "My baby sister was killed. Gone, just like that. We were so close, but does anyone think of it like that? No, they're too busy being worried about you and your dad."

"I...Uncle, I'm sorry." My voice broke, and I put my hand over his. "I...I didn't mean to yell. I...I just don't want my dad hurt anymore and...if he realizes it's not her..."

"I...I'm sorry too." He took a deep breath. "Nicole, how I get through is telling myself the dead have no worries. They are at peace. It's the ones left behind who hurt. I've known your dad since he met my sister. He's like the brother I never wanted." He gave me a sad grin. "Pain in the ass, but I love him, and you're not only my niece, but you're my sister. You have her blood, her looks, her heart. You're how I remember her, and it's a good memory. It kills me to see him like this and you struggling to deal with it."

"I...I don't know what...."

"Look." He put his hand over mine. "I wouldn't suggest anything that could hurt him. Now, yes, there is a chance it could backfire, but I discussed it with my colleague, and she says he is perfect for it. He seems to be driven by something more than saying goodbye. I have no idea what it is, do you?"

"No." I paused, thinking of last night. "But he started to say something last night to me. Like there was more then he said he couldn't talk about it."

"Hmm, he was sleeping when I left, so I guess that was when you weren't in his room?"

"You got me," I sighed.

"I am a professional," he said with a wink, "and you suck at lying. Really, Nicole, watch out."

"I acted like mom for a couple of minutes, and said I loved him as her to get him to go to sleep."

"See, it could work."

"Hey, why...why not let me just talk to him as my mom and say what I need to and..."

"Because he will want more than talk. Look, let's say you're married, been married for years. Somehow you find out it will be the last time you see your spouse. You wouldn't make love that one last time? To say goodbye?"

"We could try it."

"If it blows up, it would be worse if you were the one tricking him."

"Oh."

"Okay. Tell you what. You made a good point about it being here. I wasn't thinking of anything but the familiarity of the room helping. So would you be willing if we tried a hotel?"

"If you want it to be with a surrogate, he has to be sober and agree." I told him, wiping my eyes.

"He...he'll never agree to that," Uncle said, sounding frustrated. "I can't even get him to make an appointment."

"I'll get him to talk to you and the woman you spoke to today." I sighed, "If I have to tell him we're having lunch with someone, that's what I'll do."

"That would be a trick," he chided me.

"But it's not a woman turning one. I need to think of what's right for dad, and I'm not sure I could have him lied to like that."

"You, my dear, niece..." He kissed my cheek. "...are my sister through and through. That sweet look covers up a nasty set of claws. But you only scratch when you're trying to help." He reached into his pocket when his phone started buzzing. "That's my alarm; I have to be back by one."

"Okay. I...I'm sorry again."

"Don't be, we're all just trying to get through. We'll hold off for now, but how about a deal?"

"What's that?"

"He gets much worse, Nicole, and we'll need to do something drastic. These things don't fix themselves. He may not be far from hurting himself."

"I know." I said softly.

"So, if he is no better in the next few weeks, I want you to promise me we meet with the surrogate and talk about it."

"Fair enough."

"In the meantime." He stood up. "The next time he's out of it and rambling, try to get out of him what you think he's holding back. If there is something we don't know, it might be something that can make all the difference."

"I'll do what I can. I just don't want to..."

"Honey, remember what your mom said, if it's someone you love do what you need to, but always with love. It makes a big difference, and we'll be acting with love no matter what we do. And sometimes you really have to do whatever it takes."

"Well, he sounded better today, maybe once today and tomorrow is over, he'll get better."

"Maybe." He walked over to the door. "You never know. Give me a call if you need me."

"I will and I think dad will be better soon." I watched him walk to his car and tried to convince myself to believe my own words.

*****

I looked up from the notes from today's class that my friend Krissy had e-mailed to me, and saw it was almost 3:30. I had already showered and dressed in the black slacks and Barnes and Nobles T-shirt, so all I had to do was grab something to take with me for break, and I'd be on my way. I walked over to fridge, grabbed a yogurt from inside and a banana from the top of it, and grabbed my keys. I was just opening the front door when I saw a red Ford Taurus pull up with dad in the passenger seat.

"Oh, no." I whispered when I saw the driver was his boss, Mr. Wilkins.

Mr. Wilkins got out of the car, came around to open dad's door, and reached in to help him get out. Dad stood slowly, and taking him by the arm, Mr. Wilkins began leading him up to the porch. Dad looked as if he were walking okay, but was moving slowly and with his head down. I left the house and met them at the bottom of the steps.

"Dad, are you okay?"

He looked up at me, and I saw his eyes were red and, as they were more often than not, glazed over.

"I...I...don't know," he said quietly. "I....I need to be home."

He pulled away from Mr. Wilkins who let him go, and, without another look at me, he went up the stairs, swayed unsteadily for a moment then walked into the house.

"I was going to call you, but he said not to," Mr. Wilkins began. "And, I...I just needed to get him out of there."

"What happened?"

"Well, his secretary said she heard something crash in his office, and he had locked the door and wouldn't answer the phone. She called security, and they forced the door.He was sitting on the floor crying, and he had a pint bottle in his hand that I guess was in his desk.

"Oh my god," I whispered.

"He was holding a picture of your mother that I think he knocked off the desk and broke. He...he wouldn't say anything except he had to get home to his baby, and he just kept crying." He shook his head, "I was going to call 911, but he didn't seem like he wanted to hurt anyone, and I was afraid they would keep him, so I brought him home."

"Thank you," I told him.

"Besides," he began, looking at me nervously, "I need to tell you, Nicole, that he has to get some help. Jim's worked for us for years. He's a great asset to the company and a good guy, but his attendance is getting worse, and a couple of times I've suspected he's been drinking during lunch."

"I'm sorry, Mr..."

"I'm sorry to tell you. You're a little young to have to handle this, and you don't have to. We have an intervention program. If your dad signs off on it, we can get him into a good rehab for a month. It would really help him out and there's no cost."

"I...I don't want to see him..."

"Nicole, if he shows up under the influence again, his choice will be to accept help or be suspended. He does it again and refuses, then the company has warned him and offered him help. He will be let go." He seemed genuinely upset. "I don't want that to happen. I know what he's going through, but I don't have full say. It's policy."

"I...I understand." Last night Uncle had predicted dad's worsening attraction to me, and just hours ago had mentioned him getting worse. Why were people only right about bad things?

"When he's in a better way, please talk to him. He has some vacation time. If he wants to take a few days he's welcome to just call and let me know."

"I will." I extended my hand, and he took it. "Thank you."

"I wish I could do more." He squeezed my hand. "Hang in there, kid. The real Jim's in there somewhere, you just have to find him and get him to come back out."

I quickly entered the house, and when dad wasn't in the living room, all but ran down the hallway to the bedroom. The door was shut, and I could hear him sobbing behind it. I couldn't leave him like this. I ran back into the living room, and taking my phone from my purse, called Chris from work.

"Hey, Nicole, what's up?"

"Hey, Chris, I know it's really short notice, but you still looking for hours?"

"All I can get!"

"Can you take my shift? It's four to nine."

"I can be there in fifteen minutes."

"Thanks, and please tell Reggie I had an emergency at home, and I'll call in a little while."

"Yeah, no problem. I hope everything's okay."

"Me too."

"Thanks for the hours, Nicole, I really need the money!"

"Me too," I said to myself as I hung up.

I shoved the phone in my pocket, and went back down the hallway to stand by the door. Dad was still sobbing, and everything in me wanted to just go sit on the couch and wait until he came out or just keep checking on him every few minutes. I didn't want to see him like this anymore. I did the best I could, but like Josh had said last night, twenty was young to handle all this. I was supposed to just be going to school and enjoying my boyfriend, not taking care of a parent like he was a child.

I started to turn away but remembered my mother. Uncle was right, mom had always come across as sweet, but she was a tough woman when it counted. I looked back at the door. "Do what you have to and do it with love," I whispered.

"Don't worry, mom." I nodded as if she could hear me. "I'll take care of him."

I opened the bedroom door and felt my heart break. Dad was still fully dressed and sitting on the bed. In his arms was that damn red dress. It was laid across his arms and lap, and he cradled it as if it were a child. His head was down as he cried.

"Dad, put that away," I said, walking up to him. "It's not her."

"I just wanted to see her in it," he said without looking up. "Today was the day she left and didn't come back! She bought this for me, for our special night, and we never got it."

"You got twenty five years of special nights," I told him, sitting next to him and putting my arm around him. "That one didn't matter."

"It did!" he sobbed. "All I wanted was to see her one more time, to get that one more night! To tell her..."

"Goodbye, I know."

"To tell her I was sorry."

"Sorry?" I turned sideways to be able to see his face. "Sorry about what?"

"This dress." He lifted his head and faced me. "We...we had a fight about the dress."

As upset as he was, I felt a sense of excitement. He was actually talking to me. Trying to sound as calm as Uncle would, I prodded him. "But I thought you loved the dress!"

"I...did when she showed me, but..."

"But what?"

"We...there were some things going on we didn't tell you about. We had some money trouble. Mom's company was struggling, and she had to take a pay cut or lose her job. I hadn't drummed up much business for work, and we had just paid your tuition. I loved the dress, and then the next morning I found the price tag."

"You...fought over a dress?" I wanted to smack myself for saying it like that, but he had to be kidding.

"This was a two hundred dollar dress. We...a check ended up bouncing over it, and...I just lost it and yelled at her and told her to take it back. She said no, she bought it for me and wanted me to see her in it."

He wiped at his eyes and swallowed hard. "I told her I didn't want to see her in it. Told her I would rather not see her at all that night than see that dress."

"She told me, then maybe you won't see me, and she went into the bathroom and showered and..."

"Got into the accident." I finished.

"I told her I didn't want to see her! That was the last thing I said to her!" He began to sob again. "She died with me saying that!"

"Dad, she knew you were just mad. You guys fought before."

"And always said we were sorry, and never went to bed mad!"

"I...I tried to call her on my way to work. I thought she was just mad and didn't answer. She...she was already gone."

"Dad, mom knows everything where she is now," I told him. "She knows you were sorry, bet she was too. It's okay."

He shook his head. "It's not. I should have never said that! Over a dress, over money! Now this dress is what I have to look at.I deserve to look at it! God I wish I could see her in it!"

He lowered his head, and bringing the dress up, buried his face in it.

"Just one more night!" he moaned. "One more time to show her I loved her."

I removed my arm from him. He was beyond any comfort I could give him. I sat there stunned. All this from a simple argument over money. Then again what did I expect? Real life wasn't like books and movies; there was no big horrible secret, just an everyday argument with terrible timing. Watching dad hold the dress, I thought about my uncle's idea. If the woman knew this, she could tell dad she forgave him then tell him goodbye. It wasn't a bad idea, but no way would I allow sex in their bed.

Why did there have to be sex at all? Uncle had a point about how a couple would choose to spend their last night together, but would it be necessary? Maybe the woman could just talk to him. Dad exhaled loudly and, as if right on cue, looked at me and cocked his head as if he were confused. His eyes looked less focused than they had a few minutes ago, and I figured whatever he had to drink was beginning to hit him harder.

"Are those new earrings?" he asked.

"No, I told you. Josh gave them to me."

"Josh?" He gave me sly smile. "You making up a boyfriend to get me jealous?"

I started to tell him it was me, but paused and thought again about the surrogate idea. Who looked like mom more than me? Even my voice was similar to hers to the point people used to mix us up on the phone all the time.

Returning his smile, I asked, "Maybe. Are you jealous, Jim?"

"No, I know you're just messing with me."

"You're right." I nodded. "You look really tired, honey. Why don't you lie down?"

"Um," he looked at the dress, and then at me, and began rubbing at his temple. "I..." His eyes seemed to clear, and I held my breath, hoping he didn't just realize what I'd been doing. "Yeah, maybe I will. My head's pounding."

"Good." Standing up, I said, "Just kick those shoes off; you know I hate you wearing shoes on this rug."

"Yeah, sorry." Using his feet, he pushed the shoes off and stood up. "I...I don't remember coming in here. When did you get home?"

"Been home," I pulled the covers down. "Now get some sleep."