I constantly asked her about her father when we spoke.At first she was pretty forthcoming with information. "Mom, he's really depressed," she'd told m.... She'd made no secret of her feelings on the subject. Even her tone of voice was rich with recrimination. I cried when she told me that he never left the house except to go to work. He'd spent the holidays alone and it really scared me the following spring when she told me that her father was still driving his Jeep, because he didn't want to go. “Now, you. Go take a shower. Let me put a new dressing on your leg.”“Yes, ma’am,” I replied in an overly subservient tone.She snickered. “Good patient. Just do as you’re told. I’m gonna start a load of laundry. And I’ll do MY shower.”I went into my bedroom, stripped, and showered in the master bathroom that adjoined it. The hot water felt good. I missed my home shower. My leg was giving me twinges of pain, though, so all was not good in paradise.I finished the shower, was finishing up my. More

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