“You just got here, Riley. We’ve all seen him. Go on back,” he urged with a sad smile. I squeezed my big brother’s hand and buzzed to be let back.
Seeing your father hooked up to a million different tubes and wires with the constant drone of beeping and wining of monitors was like a swift kick to the head. It shatters any illusion that you may have that your parents are infallible. That they are beyond mortal trappings like sickness and death.
It reminds you that your parents are human. And I think that’s the truest sign that you’ve passed from the innocence of adolescence to the shitfest of adulthood. I think I’d like to book my return ticket back to blissful ignorance, please.
He looked so small in the hospital bed. His skin was white and seemed completely devoid of color. Even his lips were pale and seemed to blend in with the pallor of his face. It was scary seeing him like that.
I sat down beside the bed and took his hand in mine. It seemed like such a stereotypical thing to do. To cry by his bedside and plead with him to pull through. I wasn’t one for clichés in any form but right now it was the only thing I could do.
My dad’s eyes fluttered open and he looked at me. “Hiya kiddo,” he said, his voice hoarse and unused. He tried to smile but it was a weak imitation of what I was used to from him.
“Hiya, Dad. You sure do know how to make us worry about you. If you wanted the attention, couldn’t you think of a better way to get it?” I teased even as my eyes welled up with tears.
My dad’s fingers squeezed mine and I knew if he had the energy he would have laughed at my bad attempt at humor. “Give your old man a break. This was my excuse for a vacation. Otherwise your mom would have made me start painting the porch,” he joked and I couldn’t help but grin.
The fact that my dad’s sense of humor was in tact was the biggest reassurance I could have. He seemed…well…like himself. I hadn’t been sure what to expect and my head had gone instantly to every horrible scenario I could imagine. I had thought that he’d be a shell. Or that he wouldn’t know who I was. That’s what I get for watching way too much bad television.
“Well, we can’t have that right? I think you’ve gotten out of the honey do list for the foreseeable future,” I told him and he tried to laugh but ended up coughing, his face contorting painfully. I immediately felt horrible. Why did I have to make every serious situation a joke? My defense mechanisms majorly sucked.
“Sorry, Dad,” I said, contrite. My dad looked at me, his eyes dull and starting to unfocus a bit as the exhaustion took over. Talking to me was obviously taking a lot out of him.
“Don’t be. I’m just glad you’re here. Things are always so much better when Riley Boo’s around,” he said, his words dropping to the barest whisper as his eyes drooped closed.
“Well I’m not going anywhere,” I promised as my dad drifted in and out of sleep. I sat with him for almost an hour, dividing my attention between watching his chest rise and fall and staring at the numbers on the monitors wishing they made some sort of sense.
I must have drifted off because the feel of my dad’s hand on the back of my head had me startling awake. I rubbed at my tired eyes as my exhausted brained struggled to remember where I was. I looked over at Dad and saw that he was awake even though his skin was sallow and there were dark circles underneath his eyes. His lips were dry and cracked and he looked horrible.
“You’re tired, sweetheart. You should head back to the house and get some rest,” my dad said in a strained whisper.
I shook my head. “I’m fine. Stop worrying about me,” I chided. My dad tried to smile but it fell short. Instead he dropped his hand from my head back into his lap, where it lay limply.