Chapter 13
And now it was dead. I wanted to hug the poor tree. Weep over its death and give it the respect it deserved.
With the back of my hand, I wiped the moisture from my eyes and sniveled.
“I know,” Asher said. “I know.” He sounded as miserable about it as I felt.
The house was in equally bad shape. The paint was flaking off, and, even from this distance, it was apparent that the wood was rotting.
“What happened?” I asked.
“He became more interested in smoking and drinking than anything else.”
“Oh.”
“And he won’t let me help. He refused to let me take him to the doctor at first. I had to call Dan, who called Pops and told him to let me drive him to the fucking hospital.”