Chapter 16 #2
“I can’t do this alone. I can’t take care of everything. Don’t leave me alone with her. I won’t make it.” I closed my eyes tightly, rubbing my hand hard over my face again.
“Who’s going to fight with me over Phil? Who’s going to make those god-awful cold sandwiches, huh?” My voice cracked.
“Who’s going to take care of me?” It sounded uncomfortably small.
Is anyone going to care? Were we really never going to talk again? How was that even possible?
The crack inside me had grown jagged, its edges cutting deep.
Everything was falling apart. Everything.
The door hissed open. Footsteps stopped just behind me.
I let go of his hand, startled.
A voice sounded beside me—one of the nurses. “Sorry, honey. I can give you a minute.”
I shook my head. “I’m done.”
Without looking back. Without stopping.
I turned and left the room.
I had tried to go out. Find a drink. But I couldn’t stomach being around people. Not with all that noise inside my head.
River had kept texting.
What are you doing?
Come by mine.
You’re no fun anymore, hotshot.
No. I wasn’t fucking fun anymore.
So I went back home. To our empty house. I wandered through the rooms, aimless. Peeking into my parents’ bedroom. The kitchen. My limbs felt heavy, disconnected—like I was walking through someone else’s memories. Eventually, my feet led me to his office.
The door creaked open. I closed my eyes tight, inhaled deep, and stepped inside.
Everything in here smelled like him.
I sat in his chair and let my head fall onto the cool surface of the wooden desk.
This is really happening.
He was never coming back. I was never going to see him in this chair again. Never going to smoke with him, laugh with him, lie side by side on the rug and argue about music—him always dragging it back to the damn 80s.
You’re also never going to hear him be sick again. Never watch him waste away into nothing. Never wonder when the worst was going to come—because we’re already here.
Yet he lingered. Everywhere.
My dad was part of me. Integral. These past few months, I barely knew where he ended and I began. We shared so much. I just wanted him to be proud. I just wanted him to be here.
I didn’t know who I was without him.
I thought it had been just the two of us—but it had all been in my head.
He lied. Why lie?
It’s me, isn’t it?
I’d done something wrong. I had to have.
Who would trust me with that? With the weight of everything he carried?
Who would ever think I was worthy of the kind of relationship I’d thought we had—as equals?
I guessed I’d be asking myself that for the rest of my life, because he wasn’t going to answer anymore.
I should get a drink, but what for?
Because you have to keep pretending.
For who?
My dad was as good as gone. Who the hell was I pretending for anymore? He didn’t need me anymore.
Oh god, my dad didn’t need me anymore.
I let my eyes close. I didn’t fight it. There was nothing holding it back now. Everything I’d kept in—every ounce of sadness, heartbreak, helplessness—I let it come.
It wrapped around my heart like a dark blanket. Smothering. Spreading.
And growing.
And growing.
And growing.
The desk beneath me felt miles away. The walls stretched, then folded in.
Noah.
I wasn’t even sure if I was in my body anymore. I floated above it—watching some boy fall apart in a chair that wasn’t his, in a room that smelled too much like someone he couldn’t live without.
There was no point fighting it anymore. Nobody needed me. Nobody wanted me. I was really alone this time. For good.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Once. Twice. Sharp and jarring. Like a fire alarm pulling you out of a dream.
The room was pitch black. I had no idea what time it was. No idea how long I’d been sitting there. Minutes? Hours?
It stopped. Then started again.
I reached for it. My mother’s name glowed across the screen.
This is it.
I didn’t answer.
The screen dimmed, then lit up again. Third call. My fingers trembled as I pressed the green button and brought it to my ear.
“Noah?” Her voice cracked like a faulty speaker.
“Yeah?”
A sniffle. “Where are you?”
“Home.”
A beat. Then the click of her tongue. Another sniffle. “You need to come to the hospital.”
I didn’t want to, but I asked, “Why?”
“It happened too quickly. I couldn’t call. Everything started to beep, and they came in… They asked us to leave.”
“What happened?”
This time, it was a sob.
The first piece broke.
“He’s gone, Noah,” she said. Another piece cracked loose. “Your dad’s gone.”
And then they all began to break. One after the other. Not gently. Not quietly. It was a violent kind of pain that took over. A disorienting wave of something almost like relief—followed by nothing but pain. And grief. And heartbreak.
I had been so fucking stupid to think I’d already felt it.
Nothing—nothing—had broken me like this.
He’s gone.
I dropped the phone. I wasn’t sure if I hung up or if she was still there. A sob tore through me as I curled inward, fists clutched to my chest, like I could hold myself together. Like I could stop the splintering from the inside out.
Your dad’s gone.
Another sob ripped out—louder this time. Ragged. It scraped the air from my lungs as it left me hollow.
My dad’s gone.
I pressed my palms harder against my chest, as if I could keep something from slipping out—or maybe keep something from falling in.
But it was too late.
The hollowness spread.
Gnawing.
Tearing me apart until nothing was left.
He was gone.