His breathing slowed. He was listening to me.
“I don’t want be the one to let you go, Daddy. I want you to get better. But, I know that you’re tired. So if you want to sleep…I’ll be okay.” The corners of his mouth shook as they attempted to turn up.
My mouth smiled as my face crumpled around it. “I’ll miss you, Daddy. I’m going to miss you so much.” I sucked in another breath and he did the same, but his was different this time. He had no more fight left in him.
I glanced back to my mother, who watched me with heavy, wet eyes. He took in another deep breath and slowly exhaled. His life slipped away as the last bit of oxygen left his lungs. The sound reminded me of a tire losing air, slow and level until there was nothing left. His body relaxed, and his eyes became vacant and unfocused.
The nurse silenced the solid tone of the heart monitor while I scanned his peaceful face. The realization that my father was gone washed over me in waves. My insides wrenched, and my arms and legs felt foreign, as if they no longer belonged to me. I nodded and smiled, ignoring the tears that spilled over my cheeks. He trusted my words, and so he let go.
Thomas touched my shoulder and moved to the head of the bed. He reached over to place his hands over my father’s eyes and whispered something beautiful in Hebrew. I leaned over my father’s chest and hugged him. For the first time in my life, he didn’t hug me back.
Looking down to my hands, I scanned the obituary from the funeral. Separated by a dash, the dates of my father’s birth and death were displayed in elegant font on the front cover. I grimaced with the recognition that such a short line of ink was meant to signify his life.
The paper fit snugly in the inside pocket of my coat just as the wet sloshing of bus tires approached, slowing to a stop in front of me.
The door opened, but I didn’t look up. The sounds of commuters stepping out onto the sidewalk never came. My neighbors had little need for public transportation, specifically so late in the evening. Those that used it at all were the hired service that worked in the colossal residences nearby.
“Miss?”
The bus driver cleared his throat to get my attention, and when I failed to acknowledge him, the door swept shut. The air breaks released, and the bus slowly pulled away from the curb. I tried not to think about the day that had just taken place, but my memory became saturated with it.
Just as I did in childhood, I rocked back and forth to comfort myself. The warm peach hue had long since left my fingers, reminding me of my father’s folded hands as he lay in his coffin.
A frigid breath of air flooded my lungs and my chest heaved, giving way to the sob that had been clawing its way to the surface. I had thought moments before that my eyes couldn’t cry anymore, and I wondered how much more I would have to endure before my body would finally be too exhausted to continue.
“Cold night, huh?”
I sniffed and shot an annoyed glance to the man settling into the space next to me. I hadn’t heard him approach. He breathed on his hands, rubbed them together and then offered a reassuring grin.
“I guess,” I answered.
He looked down at his watch and sighed. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. “Guess we missed the last bus.”
He pulled a cell phone from the pocket of his black motorcycle jacket and dialed. He greeted someone and then requested a taxi.
“Did you want to share a cab?” he asked.
I peered over at him, immediately suspicious. His blue-grey eyes narrowed as he raised one eyebrow at my expression. I must have looked like a maniac, and he was reconsidering his offer.
I folded my arms, suddenly feeling the discomfort of winter breaking through my coat, seeping into my skin, piercing through to my bones. I had to get back to school; I still had a paper to write.
“Yes. Thank you,” I said with a shaky voice.
After an awkward moment of silence, the man spoke again. “You work around here?”
“No.” I hesitated to continue the conversation but found myself curious. “You?”
“Yes.”
How odd. He didn’t look like hired help. I glanced at his watch out of the corner of my eye. Definitely not help.
“What do you do?”
He didn’t answer right away. “I’m…involved in the home security sector,” he nodded, seeming to agree with himself.
“I’m a student,” I offered, trying to clear the ridiculous quivering in my voice.
He stared at me with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher, and then looked forward again. He was older than I, though not by more than five or six years. I wondered if he knew who I was. There was a glimmer of familiarity in his eyes, though I couldn’t quite place it.
His cell phone vibrated, and he opened it to read a text message. He attempted to hide an emotion and then snapped the phone closed without replying, and didn’t speak again until the cab arrived.