why my dad chose to lie to me about a completely innocuous thing is beyond me. frankly, it's a little scary. which, I suppose, is why I'm trying to sort through my feelings by writing about it on my Tumblr. winning.
those readers (just kidding! I don't have readers!) who've met my father know he's a bit of a character. he has no filter and will tell you what he really feels -- which in this day and age is a somewhat admirable trait. except when the person he's telling something to doesn't realize he's actually sorta paying you a compliment (or even if he isn't, he's trying to find something "nice" to say and, I guess?, is making an effort) and they wind up reminding the guy's daughter (me) about said comment for months after the fact ... also continually likening the guy to their own ancient and way-way-more-rude-and-actually-elderly parent but that's besides the point and this sentence needs a period.
today, my dad wanted to take his car in for service to our local body shop, as evidently "someone backed into his car in a parking lot and didn't leave a note." this could be another lie, for all I know. so I had to go and get him from the body shop, leaving his car there. I remembered that my mom wanted him to get the hatchback of the car looked at; it doesn't stay up and is heavy enough that if/when it falls on your head, you're very unhappy. this has happened to all 3 of us. anyway.
so on the way back home, I innocently say to him, "So you also asked him to look at the hatchback, right?" he says, " ...[longish pause]... Yeah. I tried to show it to him but it actually stayed up. It's been staying up for weeks. But he said he'd take a look and see if anything needs to be tightened in there. And that he'd replace it if it needed to be."
we stop at Starbucks to get coffee, natch, then come back home. about an hour later, the body shop calls to tell him the car is ready. I'm upstairs but I can hear him on the phone. "Oh great," he says. "There's one other thing, actually -- would you take a look at the hatchback before we come pick up the car? It hasn't been staying up and keeps knocking me in the head, and we can't figure out why."
I know this is just about the DUMBEST thing to be upset about. it's not that this particular incident is bothering me. it's that I'm worried it's a symptom of what my father is going to be like in his twilight years. that's not to say I think he has Alzheimer's or dementia ... he knows what his car keys do, he can drive to Pacific Palisades and back all by h'self, and he can remember things he did (and sometimes even ATE) back in 1967.
I honestly think he's CHOOSING to lie about things. my mom went with him to a doctor's appointment this week, and he told the doctor he rarely smokes and has 2 glasses of wine a week. the man smokes a pack a day and has been having at least 5 glasses of wine a week (sometimes more). I think he's lying because over the years, he's somehow morphed into a 15-year-old kid who doesn't want to get in trouble for anything. and as we all know, 15-year-old kids get in trouble a lot. this scares me for if and when something really serious happens. y'know?
anyway, look -- here's the thing. I'm actually not looking for advice or even sympathy. I feel like I just needed to vent a bit about it. I'm in a unique situation where I'm older than a lot of dirt and still live at home -- so I'm privy to more parental stuff than a lot of people my age. I'm just so scared of never having my own life. like I'll have to be here forever, helping my mom with my dad -- should a real need arise, god forbid.
I dunno. existential realness for your Thursday. back to regular programming, y'all.
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