Jason and Numbers
He is having a bad day. Numbers are in his head, too many numbers, running through his brain and confusing him. I don’t understand, but I rarely do when it comes to Jason.
The tremors are also bad today. Hands like claws grip his lighter, trying to ignite the tip of a cigarette that shakes like mad as it hangs precariously from his mouth. Why does he still smoke, I wonder? Better yet, why doesn’t Dad just quit buying the damn things for him? (But that is a battle I have already fought and lost.)
Cancer stick finally lit, Jason inhales, blows out a stream of smoke and tries to tell me something. “What?” I ask. His words are muffled. His right leg begins shaking involuntarily while he repeats himself. Something about a movie and numbers, but that’s all I get. Numbers of movies, maybe? Jason loves movies. He has been collecting DVD’s since he was a kid. He mostly likes older movies. I think he watches the old ones, not because he can watch them, but because he can remember them in his mind while they are playing on the screen.
It’s time to take his meds. Jason dumps a handful of pills into his mouth, reaches for his soda can and tips the ashtray off the table. Things always get knocked over. He chokes down his pills and then looks toward Dad. “Did it drip?” We don’t understand. “Did it drip?” he asks again, this time louder. “I can’t think of the word because of…
