"It hurts."

"Of course it does," you smiled sadly. "The hurt is how we know it was love. The absence we feel is proof that what we had is something that can be lost."

"...And when does it stop?"

With eyes dark like a cloud before rain, you replied, "If it was love, it won't."

~Beau Taplin

***

~ATLAS~

I think father hates the fall.

There's something about the season that puts him on edge.

Something about it that always makes him stay inside, holed up within his office as the leafs continue their fading change in color.

There are a lot of things that father can't look at.

A lot of things that father won't or simply will not do.

He won't sit on the back porch by himself.

Someone has to be with him.

He won't go to the lake.

Jackie took me there sometimes, a beautiful place.

But father never goes.

He can't stand the color white. Dark colors suit him more, he'll say.

But I know better.

There are a lot of things father won't do.

Things that are just a part of his daily life that I don't think twice upon.

And now.

Another thing that father won't do.

That was coming back to haunt me.

He won't go to the clinic.

"When did it start?"

Doctor Schulman slowly walked to his desk.

I honestly lost track of how old Doctor Schulman was. Ancient, is what a lot of wolf's joke about behind his back.

A nurse is there to help and, and honestly, Nurse Joy does pretty much everything for him. Father can't bring himself to retire him though, or to seek out a new doctor.

"Maybe a week ago?"

Doctor Schulman's eyes glared at me, causing even my Alpha blood to quiver. When it came to concerns about my father, he was brutal. He loved my father more than any wolf in the pack. The kind of loyalty father could inspire truly awed and frightened me sometimes. I wondered idly when I had nothing else to do, if Schulman would jump of the nearby cliff if father asked.

The knowing answer would be yes.

"That's a long time to wait Atlas. The symptoms could have gotten worse now, without my treatment."

I shift nervously within my seat.

"Okay," Schulman seems to notice my nervousness, because he relaxes slightly, easing into his chair. "Go over again what you've notice."

I take a deep breath.

It could be nothing. Nothing really. Just my mind jumping to conclusions. But I still worry.

"A week ago I noticed father standing in the hall. He didn't know where he was, or what he was doing there...but then after a few minutes of me talking to him, he seemed to snap out of it and just laughed..."

I swallowed back my tears. Something about my words just made me want to break down.

I couldn't lose father.

"What else."

Doctor Schulman's eyes didn't leave mine. His entire focus was upon me as I continued, "He's not eating a lot either. You know how the fall affects him. And Jackie's not here anymore to make him eat." I bite back whatever rambling thoughts I was about to spew forth, as Doctor Schulman stands.

"I know what will help." He mutters small incoherent things to himself.

He hands me a small bottle, writing down instructions on a notepad as he explains, "Instead of three meals, make him eat small snacks throughout the day...I don't know what to do about Jackie," A sorrowful look enters Schulman's eyes as he slowly shakes his head, "Sandra's cooking isn't good?"

"It's okay," I shrug. Jackie had not been a chief. But there was just something about a food that you grew up with that made you comfortable with the taste.

"Try cooking something for him," Doctor Schulman suggested, "If you offer it, maybe he will eat."

"Okay..," Cereal and spaghetti then.

"Give him one of those every night. It will help with meals and sleep."

I look at Schulman in surprise, "How did you know about the sleep?"

He gives me a knowing look, before turning back to writing more instructions.

I wave him goodbye when he's done. I don't like staying in the clinic. It bothered me that at one point she walked these same halls. Went through this same door. Talked and took in this same air.

I know why father doesn't come a mile within this place.

That night, I ask Sandra if I can cook a special meal for father.

She gives me the hard eye, "Special meal? Don't ya only know to cook noodles?"

I look her straight in the eye, as I nod.

She continues to stare at me before sighing and giving me free reign of her kitchen. I swat her hand away whenever she tries to add different spices. I don't leave my pot of boiling water unattended.

It doesn't take long until the spaghetti is done, and sauce is heated up.

Sandra is looking glum, eyeing my sorry meal as she dishes up her lamb with green olives and lemon sauce.

I glance away from the savoring food, trying to not breath it in too much to waver my resolution as I exit the kitchen with two full bowls.

Father isn't at the table yet.

Sighing I walk upstairs, only to find father facing a wall, his back to me as he blankly stares at the grey color.

I hesitate before stepping forward. Reaching out, I softly tap his shoulder.

"Hey, dad, Dinner's ready. I made spaghetti for...," the words die away from my mouth as he turns around to face me.

I shiver at what I see.

Blank eyes.

Eyes that are not father's.

Eyes that hold nothing.

"Dad...Dinner," I hold up the two plates, hoping against all hope that he'll show some recognition. We continue staring at each other, not saying anything as I fall into my silent dark hole.

Suddenly though, like a light had been switched, he's back.

"Hey Atlas," he gives me a small smile, "how long have you been standing there?"

I look at him startled at the change. I'm unable to respond.

"I guess I zoned out there," he looks around nervously before glancing back to me, "you haven't been there long have you?"

I slowly shake my head, "No...I...I just came to tell you dinner is ready."

I hold up the two bowls of spaghetti.

His eyes light up at the sight.

"You made this?"

"Ya," I smile at him," Do you want to eat on the front porch?" Front. Not back.

He registers my words and their meaning before nodding.

We eat in silence.

I watch with careful eyes how much he eats.

But soon the whole bowl is empty and resting next to him.

A pressure within my chest that I didn't even know was there, eased slightly at the sight.

"That was good. Thanks Atlas."

He stands up, grabbing his dirty dish and patting my back before walking away.

And that's when it happens.

"Dad?"

I call out to him as he continues to walk forward. Away from the house.

I look around wildly, making sure no one is around before I race towards him.

"Father," I grab his arm and softly pull him away, pleading hard to anyone, anything, that the pack inside is not watching this.

"Hey Atlas," he smiles down at me, and that- in that moment- that is when my heart truly breaks.

"Father where are you going?"

I don't want the answer. I don't want to know. I don't want to hear the words that I already can tell will come out of his mouth.

Looking around in confusion, father looks back down to me, as he says, "To the kitchen?"

Stay strong my readers.

It's a test of endurance.

Until next time,

Loves,

/////WORLD_JOY_/////