I am sorry to inform you that I am discharging you from your duties.  You are no longer needed.  Although I truly treasure the times we had together, our time has come to an end.  Things have been peculiar lately.  I’ve paid extremely close attention to you, even when you don’t realize it.  You’ve been different.  Stranger.  As much as it saddens me to see you go, this will have to be it.

You have helped take care of me for years.  And I cannot repay you for that.  After my family rejected me and shunned me, you so willingly took on the task of caring for me daily.  I am not sure why, but I appreciate it, you.  From the bottom of my heart.  But things have peaked my interest and raised my attention.  This past week has been… different.  Each night, I wake to the sound of my bedroom door creaking ever so slightly.  An eerie sound to wake up to.  My vision may not be as good as it used to be, but for a fact I can tell you stand there.  For hours.  Just watching me.  It disturbs me.  Then just before the sun beams through the window, you slip away.  Gone into the shadows.  I remember your figure in the shadow.  Your head turned towards me.  The slump of your shoulders.  As they rise and fall with each breath you take.  The quiet, barely noticeable raspy breath you intake.  The sound of your teeth gritting.  The night you turned on the light, right on my eye.  I’ve never shut my eyes so quickly.  Even with my eyes closed, it was still noticeable.  Barely there.  Barely beaming.

I remember how you used to cook.  With love and care poured into the food you made.  Hoping I’d enjoy it.  The smell of fresh baked goods whenever I came home.  It warmed my senses and reminded me of when my wife was still alive.  How I miss my Lucy.  I miss how she cared for me, loved me, made me feel.  She was gorgeous.  She always seemed to appeal to everyone’s eye.  Eye candy.  She strived to be perfect, counting each and every calorie she digested.  And immediately working it off right after.  I loved her the way she was.  I don’t think she ever understood that.  Always wanted to impress me.  Buying new clothes.  Cutting and styling her hair.  Wearing makeup that made her look older than she was.  Slowly but surely she gained the weight she needed.  A petite figure, with curves that I loved, yet she hated.  Without the makeup, she had natural beauty.  Green emerald eyes, I always seemed to lose myself in her eyes.  A small button nose, with a small bump in the arch of it.  It made her unique and even more beautiful.  As if that were possible.  A moderately full top lip, with a full bottom lip.  Pink, full lips.  A clear face.  Never, ever did I see that girl have a pimple.  She was fair, oh so fair.  With freckles spread throughout her face, mostly along her nose and cheek area.  She had short brown hair.  It was always cut into a pixie cut.  I think it made her, well her.  It was different.  She wasn’t just like any other girl.  And I loved that about her.  She aged like fine wine.  I always loved everything about her.  Each day, I grew to love her so much more.  Every “imperfection” she called, I seemed to love.  To every wrinkle, to every stretch mark she had because of her kids.  Our kids.  I miss them.  I miss Lucy.  I miss my family.  I wish you could’ve met her Mason, she would’ve loved you.  Her smile, her laugh, it all lit up the room.  She was perfect, inside and out.  I loved that woman with my whole entire heart.  I love her with my whole enitre heart.  Forever and always.  Just as I vowed to.  Crazy to think we got married just out of highschool.  We were highschool sweethearts and truly believed we were in love.  And we were.  Even with our ups and downs, I loved her.  I think that’s one reason I enjoy keeping you around.  I remember one time specifically. 

“Oh, I hope you like it.  I spent all day working on the meal.  Is your family coming?  I hope they do.  I’d love to meet them.” you said cheerfully.

“I hope so too.  I can’t wait to try it.” I responded.

Your voice thick with excitement and joy.  Full of hope.  Bright eyes and a grin spread wide across your face each night.  And every time, you made the biggest meals.  Always hoped my family would come.  But they never did.  I could tell it would disappoint you.  Although you smiled, there was a sadness in those eyes.  I never realized how much things have changed.  Till just last week.  For my birthday, you made such a large cake.  The house smelled of freshly done laundry and vanilla.  As soon as I stepped out my room, the smell slapped me awake.  Making me fully alert, and my mouth watering with the aroma.  You shooed me out the kitchen.  I didn’t remember it was my birthday.

“Pardon my forgetfulness, Mason.”

“Quiet down now Mr. Harrington, it’s not your fault.”

“It’s the old age.”  I said hesitantly. 

You smiled showing, a softness clearly there in your eyes.  Such immense there, so clearly in your eyes.  I remember the usual schedule.  Dinner, then a true specialty.  You even decorated the dining room for me.  The chandelier shining brighter than ever.  Color popping everywhere.  Streamers up above.  Balloons tied to the head of my chair.

“A birthday throne for the birthday boy.”

As you said.  I’d never felt more childish.  But I enjoyed it.  Enjoyed the overflowing amount of love you gave me.  After I had the first bite, I knew something was wrong.  Deadly wrong.  I couldn’t tell what it was.  There wasn’t just vanilla in that cake.  No.  There was something else… something off putting.

“What’s wrong?  Don’t you like it?” you said with a pout, and something else.

I chewed and swallowed because a part of me felt bad.  I smiled as best I could.

“Is there anything else in the cake?”

Immediately, you looked offended.  But you quickly shook your head.

“No, I used boxed cake.”

I could see it.  See the deceit in your eyes.  Mason, how your eyes give away the whole story.  Did you know that?  You truly are the worst liar by far, I’ve ever seen and met.  I didn’t believe you for a second.  But I merely nodded and ate a few more bites.  You watched.  I could see how you looked angrily.  Mad.  Hateful.  Spitefulness taking over your eyes, making you look evil.  Dark eyes.  A smirk.  A chill crept down my spine, an uneasiness in my gut.  Merely minutes after that, I can’t remember a single thing.  My memory is just blank.  You claimed I went to bed.  My memory isn’t that bad.  I would remember.  I have an odd feeling you did something to the cake, Mason.  Pardon me if I’m wrong, but honestly in all my years, never have I ever blacked out.  I have my right to have my own suspicions.

Another thing, why do you look at me in that way?  With hate so full in your eyes.  Do you hate me?  You seem almost disgusted to see me.  To take care of me.  It’s hurtful.  Have I become that much of a burden to you?  I remember the first time we met.  Friendliness so apparent.  A friendly face.  You couldn’t wait to help me.  I remember when you showed me your ID at the interview.  You looked so much younger.  They say stress ages you.  Am I stressful?  I suppose I am.  No one really wants to take care of an old pitiful man like I.  How very sorry I am, Mason.  I never meant for you to become a hateful person.  I’d do anything to give back the years of your life you spent taking care of me.  But I can’t, now can I?  I wish I could repay you.  But no amount of money can give you back years of your life.

So, this is unfortunately it.  With a heavy heart, I have to let you go.  I will not forget our memories.  They’ve been some of the best I’ve made in years.  These past few years… you’ve been my only friend.  Without you, I would probably be dead already.  Gone from this world.  Completely nonexistent.  But I am still here, alive, all because of you.  I don’t think you understand nor realize how much I treasure you, our memories, everything.  It pains me to fire you, but it has to be done.  Perhaps for the best?  They do say everything happens for a reason.  Maybe, just maybe, we will both be okay.  I hope we cross paths again.  Before I pass.  Or maybe in another life.  Do you believe in reincarnation, Mason?

With Love, Ethan.