My father left me a message on voicemail.

"Jason, I've met someone and I would like you to meet her. She's beautiful, and reminds me of your mother. Come for dinner tonight if you can, please?"

My plans didn't include a stop at dad's tonight, but it had been over a month since I saw him. Leaving work, I stopped for a bottle of wine. I wasn't going to have dinner, but could stay to at least have a drink with them.

Bernie, the doorman at the Pierre, greeted me.

"I'm glad you came, Jason. I'm worried about your dad."

"Why, what's he been doing, Bernie?"

"He's been acting strange, he tells me he is seeing a woman, and that she's been here many times in the evening. Jason, I'm always here from four to twelve, and no woman has asked to go to his floor."

"That's strange. He told me he was having dinner with her tonight, and asked me to stop by. I guess I'll see what's going on when I get upstairs. Thanks, Bernie."

"No problem, Jason."

Arriving at the fourth floor, I rang the bell, and used my key to enter.

"It's me, dad."

"Jason, I'm happy you came. I want you to meet Yvette. She's beautiful, isn't she?"

I stood there, unable to move or react. My father was having dinner with half of a female mannequin. He had poured her wine, and was asking her to introduce herself to me.

Tears streamed down my face when I realized dad was no longer in control of his mind. How could I have not seen this coming? Filled with guilt, I loathed my irresponsible handling of his care and wellbeing, having selfishly focused on only my career.

I called Bernie.

"Bernie, I'll be staying here tonight."