Chapter 7
Having Simms by my side made up for the crap-filled days that invariably occurred as a bus driver. And I was there when he had a really bad day, or the occasional nightmare, like the night last week when he’d woken up yelling.
I took him to my dad’s gravesite in the middle of December since Simms was available, surprisingly, at least for a few hours, fingers crossed. It had been a long time since I had visited, and there were leaves and other detritus everywhere. Simms helped me clean it all up and we stood there in our winter jackets and skullcaps as I stared at my dad’s gravestone and reminisced. When it was too cold to stay out any longer, Simms and I went over to his place, a two-bedroom apartment that was always pristine now, according to him, because he spent most of his
