Final note about Pepaw and his smoking for NOW …
After we exit the convenience store without any cigarettes, I take a deep breath and use every bit of energy to not explode at my dad-in-law. Pepaw could not understand what I thought was a very simple concept about price in the store. Wisely, I had given up because I reminded myself he'd never get it because of his dementia. It's not his fault. So, we leave without purchasing anything and get back into my car that was suffocating on this miserable muggy day.
It was just one of those days when I didn't have much patience. We all have them. At least I could admit it to myself. Maybe I'll cool off in more ways than one if we go back to his residence and have some lemonade so that I can leave him on a good note.
I turn the key and nothing. No sound, no roar of the engine, no air conditioning springing to life. Nothing again and again and again …
"What's wrong?" Pepaw asks.
"I don't know. It's never done this before."
As if I know what I'm looking at, I raise the hood and glance inside at the engine. Pepaw was still in the car. I make the nicest offer I can to a man who had been a car mechanic much of his life.
"Do you want to look at it?"
He nods, steps outside and peers inside. After not wiggling any wires, he says it could be the battery, but he doesn't really know. I appreciate his honesty. I felt it was important to ask his opinion because it may have sparked some mechanical memory. It didn't.
I call my husband Roger and explain the situation. He'll drive over. Done. Pepaw tells me he's gonna walk across the gas station grounds toward the road and smoke a cigarette there. Noooooooo … I ask him to just stand behind the car. He nods and lights up.
Let's see, a woman standing alongside her car with the hood up and an elderly man smoking while leaning on the trunk … Six men ask if I need help. How nice! I thank them and reassure them my husband will arrive shortly.
Then Roger calls and is unsure where I am. I quietly shout because I've lost my cool completely, and it's not a very pleasant conversation. He finally arrives, and we decide to take his dad back to his apartment to get him out of the heat. We discover that the car battery is deader than dead, way before the warranty is up. Roger and I apologize to each other and even laugh about the things I'm doing for HIS father and those damn cigarettes.
The next day I do the smart thing and buy a carton of cigarettes out of Pepaw's checking account and hide it in my trunk. I give Pepaw one pack, and his first question: "How much was it?"
"Just $4."
He says okay and smiles. He pulls out his wallet. I wave him to stop.
"Don't worry. You can pay me later."
"Thank you, darlin'."
I'm counting on him to forget and on me to remember to always have a pack stashed.
I later tell my mom what had happened, and she understands: she still smokes a couple cigarettes a day, but never around me when I see her. However, I make one thing perfectly clear:
"If I should need to care for you someday, I don't care how much you beg me for cigarettes, I'm slapping a nicotine patch on you!"
And we choose to laugh. It helps to clear the air.
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