Chapter 20
Lacey
For the life of me, I couldn’t sleep last night. I kept thinking about my dad, all alone in that hospital. Did he read my note? Had he known that I was there for him in his time of need? Could he hear me when he was unconscious?
“Lacey…I can practically hear your brain rattling about inside your skull. Why haven’t you slept yet?” Cole’s mumbled voice floats across the bed.
“Shh, go back to sleep. I have been asleep. You’re just dreaming,” I whisper back to him in hopes he will drift off again and leave me to my pity party for one.
“Liar.” He sits up in bed and rubs his eyes. “Horlicks?” He shimmies to the side of the bed and gets up.
I scramble up after him. “Cole, come on, it’s late. There’s no use for both of us to be awake.” I follow after him as he walks into the kitchen.
He starts to gather the ingredients for the drink: a pan, milk, cups, and Horlicks. He puts the milk on the hob to heat and stirs it slowly. “Cole, you have work in the morning, and I have the day off. I can nap during the day.” My attempt falls flat; he just turns around and smiles at me.
“Do you remember when you used to stay over at my house, and my mum would make us hot milk when we couldn’t sleep?
Somehow, you would only last a few minutes after drinking it and fall right back asleep.
” I smile at his memory. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you stay awake by yourself?
We’re in this together, whether I have work the next day or not.
And spoiler alert, I’m the boss, so if I want to arrive late, I can.
” He shrugs like his words mean nothing at all, when in reality they’re probably some of the most important words he has ever said.
“We haven’t talked about what’s going to happen once the baby is here…” I’m nervous about having this conversation with him.
“What do you mean?” His back is to me while he stirs the milk. That makes this a little easier.
“I mean, the house probably won’t be ready. Are you going to move in here with us? Do you want to be involved in the baby stuff?” I trail off, unsure of what I’m even asking him.
He spoons the Horlicks into the cups, then pours the milk over them, stirring until everything is well mixed. His motions are slow and steady. He places the cup in front of me and brings his to his mouth, blowing gently on it—the steam twirls up and around him.
“Lacey, you’re staring.” He smirks at me.
“Yeah, well, you aren’t answering my question!” I pick up my cup and blow on the mixture before drinking the malted goodness.
“I love you, Lacey. I love Peanut. I am here for it all. The nighttime feeds and changes, the daytime feeds and changes. Your mood swings, because let’s face it, there will be many.
” I go to interrupt him, but he cocks an eyebrow, and I shut up, letting him continue.
“I will be there for the birth, if that’s okay with you.
I will change her nappies, and I will swap out your nipple pads.
I’ll go out shopping for your sanitary towels, because after the baby is born, the books say you need them – a lot.
I will make you food and feed her while you sleep.
I want to sit and watch movies together and your TV shows.
I want to sing Peanut lullabies at night. I want it all.”
He drinks his malted drink like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“You truly are all in, aren’t you?” My question isn’t really a question, because I know. It’s a statement.
“Yes, I truly am all in. Now finish up your drink.”
We sit there in silence while we drink, and when I’m finished, he grabs my hand and guides me back to bed, pulling back the covers.
He waits for me to climb in, then walks around the bed and scoots in behind me.
He wraps his arm around my bump and gently pulls me closer to snuggle into him.
I sigh heavily, and the last thing I remember is Cole telling me how much he loves us both before my eyelids droop and sleep drags me under in a dreamless sleep.
**********
I wake up in the morning alone. Cole’s side of the bed is made neatly, and I feel a pang of sadness that he isn’t here, which is entirely irrational…but, hormones.
On my nightstand next to the bed is a bottle of water, my prenatal vitamins and a note. Opening the note, it reads:
Make sure to take your vitamins. I needed to go to the worksite this morning, but I’ll be back for lunch. Love you x
His note makes me smile, so I do as I’m told and take my vitamins and lie back down. I have a whole morning to myself. Emmy and Hayleigh are working, and I don’t feel like I can dump my trauma onto Daisy so early on in our friendship.
You know what you really want to do…
Stupid heart and stupid brain. Of course, I want to see my dad, but what if I get there and he’s mad? I remember the last time I saw him.
“Really, Dad? Again? It’s 9 am!” When I let myself into my Dad’s house that morning, I didn’t expect to see him sitting on his couch nursing a bottle of brandy.
“Whass it to yooo?” He slurs his words. As if this isn’t a clear enough sign that he is bladdered, the way he tries to stand up and walk to the kitchen isa dead giveaway. Think Bambi on ice…blindfolded. He pings off the walls as he walks, utterly oblivious to anything.
“Dad, what are you doing?” I follow closely behind to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. It hurts my heart to see him like this, but over the years, I’ve grown accustomed to it somehow.
I look at him as he moves through the kitchen to the fridge.
Really look at him. He looks older than he is, the bags under his eyes making his face droop.
The yellow and red tinge to the whites of his eyes is dimming the sparkle that I’ve seen in pictures.
The sad thing is, I’ve only ever known my father to be drunk.
I’ve never met the man in the pictures, smiling and happy.
I don’t remember what it was like before Mum died.
I barely remember her at all, but I definitely don’t remember him.
I used to ache for a real dad. I wished for him to wake up one morning and come into my room, tell me how sorry he was, and that he was choosing me. Instead, I had to look after him as I had gotten older. Somehow, I became the parent and the caregiver, and he became more drunk.
“What the fuck are you still doing here?” His words are harsh; they always are lately.
“I’m making sure you’re okay, Dad, that’s all, but I’ll go if you want me to.” My voice is small. No matter how many times he snaps at me, he always chips away at a piece of my heart.
“This is all your fault, you know. You made her die…” He trails off, and I take a step back. Sure, he’s snapped before, but he’s never been cruel.
I don’t say a word, too scared to, but he carries on regardless of the torment he’s putting me through.
“She refused the treatment because of you. She wanted you, but I only wanted her, and by the time you were born…it was too late. NOW GET OUT AND DON’T COME BACK!
” He stumbles as he screams the words at me and falls.
Despite all he’s done, all he’s said, I dart forward to help him, but he shrugs me off.
“I SAID GO!” He spits the words out, and I know this time, he means them.
Standing up, I let the tears fall. “If I walk out of that door, Dad, you won’t see me again.” I don’t shout, I don’t scream, I just tell him the truth.
His reply is like a punch to my gut. “Good.”
That one little word still haunts me to this day. One word that can have two very different meanings.
Am I doing the right thing in getting ready and heading to that hospital? I don’t know, but I know that only I can answer that question.
So, I get ready, and as I do, I tell Peanut how much she’s loved, from me and her daddy. Cole.
**********
When you’re pregnant and you feel your baby move inside of you, it’s one of the world's best feelings. I used to think that it would make me feel sick or creeped out, but it’s the opposite.
The idea of visiting my dad? Now that has me feeling like I’m going to throw up at any moment. I put a hand on my stomach and whisper, “Wish me luck, Peanut?”
And what does she do? She moves around like she’s trying to high-five me.
I step onto the ward and make my way to the nurses' station, where I find the same nurse from yesterday sitting down.
“Uhm, hello. I’m here for visiting hours to see D-Don Fullman.” My hands are shaking, and my voice quivers.
She looks up, and a warm smile spreads across her face.
“You must be Lacey. I didn’t catch your name yesterday, but Don has been telling me all about you.
He’s been awake for a few hours and is doing okay.
All his vitals are showing he’s recovering.
” She nods, and something loosens inside of me.
It's as if a balloon has popped, and all the air has deflated out of me. He’s okay.
My dad is OK, and he’s been talking about me.
That's a good sign.
“Would you like me to take you to him, or would you like to walk there yourself?” I love her for giving me the option.
“I remember where he is, but thank you so much.” She nods once and returns to her work.
I face the corridor, and the nerves start up again, but I swallow them down and make my way to his room.
When I walk through the double doors, some of the men are still sleeping.
My dad is in the far right corner, the curtains drawn around his left side.
I edge forward and his feet come into view, then his legs, and finally his face.
He’s sat up in the bed, glasses perched on the end of his nose, a puzzle book in his hands and a pen at the side of his mouth.
He’s deep in concentration and hasn’t noticed me yet, so I take him in.
His hair is grey now with wisps of white woven through the strands.
His face is fuller, and those deep lines under his eyes have gone.
I can see how he must smile now, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes giving that away.
I step forward, and my shoe squeaks on the floor; his eyes snap up to meet mine for the first time in seven years.
“Lacey?” He sounds like he’s seen a ghost, like he can’t believe I’m here.
“Hey, Dad.” I smile at him, but I don’t move. I’m too scared of the rejection, and I brace for him to tell me this was a mistake, that I shouldn’t have come here.
“Come sit down, sweetheart. You shouldn’t be on your feet too long.” He nods at my ever-growing bump and smiles. That knot loosens a little further inside of me.
I move to the chair beside his bed and sit, placing my bag beside me. I don’t know what to say to him. Do I start the conversation? Do I hug him? No, don’t do that, Lacey, you idiot.
“Your thoughts are still as loud now as they were when you were little.” His voice is kind.
That’s a good sign, right? Good. That was the last word he said to me, and that wasn’t good at all.
“What happened to you?” I nod to the machines around him. Don’t talk about the past; now isn’t the time. His being in here, now that’s a safe conversation zone.
He nods like he understands. “I’ve been sober now for three years, and I’ve been trying to get better, get healthier.
Unfortunately, when you abuse your body for as long as I did, there are consequences.
I had a lucky escape, and I don’t plan on wasting that.
” His words are heavy, and I’m not entirely sure if he means he doesn’t plan on wasting his time on me or with me.
“So, what have you been doing for the last seven years?” Way to ease in there, Lacey.
He chuckles. “So much like your mother. You have her spark of fieriness, you know?” I shake my head.
I didn’t know that. “After…after I was…” He looks up to the ceiling and tears pool in his eyes.
“There are no words that can describe how sorry and ashamed I am. I had no right to treat you the way I did. I had no right to blame you for your mother's passing or for…losing myself so much that I didn’t see I had the very best part of her – I had you.” He wipes his eyes, but I don’t move.
I want to comfort him, to believe this is the truth, but I’m scared and rooted to the spot.
“I don’t expect you to accept my apology, but Lacey, if you let me, then I promise for the rest of my days I will try to be the father that you deserve.”
“Why didn’t you find me sooner? If you have been clean for three years, Dad, why?” My voice is now louder than a whisper; my throat is raw, and it feels like I have a ball of something stuck in it.
“Shame, Lacey. I was ashamed of myself. I knew you hated me, and I hated myself. I didn’t want to give you a shitty half version of myself, I wanted to be right.”
That knot loosens and unravels as the past seven years and more come pouring out of me.
I let the tears fall freely. I let my dad scoot to one side of his bed and pat it beside him.
I let myself climb onto the bed and burrow myself in his chest like I wanted to all those times when I was a little girl.
I let him put his arms around me and hold me close.
I let my inner child sob for the life she should have had. I let her wish for the future she will have.
Most of all, I let myself believe and hope that I am getting my happy ending.
I have Cole, I have the Petersons, I have my beautiful friends, I have our Peanut, and now I have my Dad.
We stay like this, crying softly until I can cry no more, and exhaustion drags me under.
My Dad loves me after all.