Page 79 of Sweet Ruin

There’s a rubber-banded stack of old vendor invoices in there, a broken thermometer, a tin of Altoids from another era, and underneath all of it, my father’s desk planner.

I took it out of his office after we buried him. Just the planner. It’s the black leather kind with a week to a page and a red ribbon marker to keep your place. His handwriting is all over it, that cramped block printing he did, all capitals.

He kept his whole life in here. Doctor appointments. Chemo. Birthdays.

And every family holiday.

On January 1st every year, rain or shine, cancer or no, he sat down at his desk and sketched out his whole year in pen.

EASTER—OUR PLACE @ 1 P.M.

4TH—DEE & CONNOR CATSKILLS (+ V?).

THANKSGIVING—OUR PLACE—DEE BRINGS PIES.

XMAS EVE—OUR PLACE—SLIDESHOW.

He didn’t live to see a single one of those.

I look at that for a while. Then I get a black pen out of my cup, open the planner flat on the desk next to the statements, and start putting X’s in it.

Every time I find a suspicious charge, I mark the corresponding date with a big, bold, black, unmissable X.

The first X goes on February 14th. Valentine’s Day.

X.

The next one goes on Easter. I was working furiously in the kitchen all weekend to be ready. I made ham and potatoes, plus a coconut cake with a nest of jelly beans on top for my cousin’s kids. We all went to church, and then to my parents’ house afterward. It felt weird not to have Dad there, I remember.

Vivian came late and left early, like always. But wasn’t there a window of time when I was running the egg hunt in the backyard with the young ones? There was, wasn’t there?

Connor came out a while later with his hair mussed. He’d said he was helping my mom get something from the basement.

X.

Fourth of July. The Catskills. Connor and Vivian took a trip to get ice. They took forever, and when they came back, they said the first two places were closed.

X.

I draw it hard enough that the pen goes through to the next page.

Thanksgiving. I did indeed bring pies. I left Connor at home to “finish up some work stuff” while I went to my mom’s to help set up.

X.

From there…

X.

X.

X.

X.

2024? X’s on every holiday.

2023? The same.