Chapter 27 Dad
Dad
I’m sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of instant oatmeal and staring into space.
I can’t believe it’s Saturday again. It’s been two weeks since my A Very Bionic Halloween experiment was an epic fail, and five weeks since Mom went into a coma.
So much for she could wake up at any time.
Stupid Doctor Glassman, what the hell does he know?
I hope Mom will be home for Thanksgiving.
We can’t have Thanksgiving without Mom! The alien twists and turns in my stomach.
It’s been so active for a good portion of my days and nights now that I’m getting used to it living inside me. The problem is when it wants out.
Sammy darts in and out of my legs and rubs against me. He alternates between purring and meowing. “Yes, I know you’re hungry and want your breakfast too. Just give me a minute, Sam. I’m not moving very quickly this morning,” I say.
It’s another Saturday when Carole needs to be at the library.
She used to only work the first Saturday of the month, but her schedule is more fluid now.
The library has been very accommodating about her time off to be with Mom, but there have also been compromises made, and working more Saturdays is one of them.
I need to go to the hospital to be with Mom, but the burden of it weighs me down, and I’m having a hard time getting myself going.
I force myself out of my seat and trudge to the hall closet to fetch Sammy’s food.
He continues to dart in and out of my legs, meowing loudly, and I swear he is going to knock me over.
I make it back to the kitchen in one piece with a scoop of dry cat chow in hand.
As I pour the food into Sammy’s bowl the doorbell rings.
Who could that be? I’m not expecting anyone.
Great, a solicitor is just what I need! I quietly sneak to my bedroom and perch on the edge of my bed to wait for whoever it is to go away.
I can’t deal with someone trying to sell me something or talk to me about Jesus while I’m trying to get out the door.
The doorbell rings incessantly and is now peppered with intermittent knocking.
I don’t want to deal with it! Why won’t they go away?
I hold my pillow over my head. The alien doesn’t like the disturbance either and goes from twisting and turning to wanting out!
Scratch, scratch, scratch. Ring, ring, ring.
Knock, knock, knock. Repeat. I’m rocking back and forth holding my pillow.
“Please stop,” I whisper into the pillow, and it does.
No more doorbells, no more knocking. The alien quits scratching.
A few moments of silence are interrupted by the ring of my mobile phone.
Dad’s face fills the screen. Why is he calling so early?
This is not typical of Dad. I try to compose myself and answer the phone with a shaky voice.
“Hello?”
“Simon?”
“Yes, Dad, it’s me. What’s up?”
“Where are you?”
“I’m home. Why?”
“I’ve been standing at your door knocking and ringing the bell for ten minutes. I came back to the parking lot and saw your car was still here. I can’t figure out where you are.”
“Oh, sorry. I was…in the bathroom. I’m out now.”
“Okay, I’m coming back up. Open the door this time, please.”
I open the front door and wait for Dad. His trek up the stairs is excruciatingly slow. He doesn’t say a word when he gets to me—just a hand on my shoulder before walking into the apartment.
“Simon, will you get me a glass of water?” Dad asks.
When I return from the kitchen with his water in hand, Dad has already taken his coat off and made himself at home on the living room couch. Sammy jumps into his lap and Dad scratches him behind the ears.
“Dad, what’s going on? Why are you here? You never drop by. I need to get to the hospital to be with Mom. Carole is working at the library today, and Mom is all alone. I need to go.”
Dad doesn’t respond. He motions me to sit on the couch next to him. I shake my head.
“Dad, did you hear me? Mom is all alone, and I need to go to the hospital to be with her.”
He continues to motion me over without saying anything. His lack of response pisses me off and I blurt, “Well, you might not care that Mom is all alone in a hospital bed, but I do, and I’m leaving for the hospital. You can let yourself out when you’re ready to leave. Lock the door behind you.”
I turn to leave, and Dad raises his voice at me which is something I haven’t heard since I was a little kid.
“Simon, get over here now and sit down. Your mother will be fine for a few hours.”
I throw my backpack on the floor and flop down hard in the chair, not the couch as he asked me to. “Fine, what?” I say as I cross my arms across my chest in defiance.
Dad looks at me with sad eyes and says, “Do you want to go out and grab some breakfast?”
I stare at him like he is crazy. “Dad, I’ve already told you I want to be with Mom, and I’ve already had a bowl of oatmeal.”
“Well, maybe we could go out for lunch a little later. We could get burgers. How does that sound?”
“Dad, you are freaking me out. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I don’t want to go out to breakfast! I don’t want to go out to lunch. I want to go to the hospital to be with Mom. She is all alone.”
“Don’t worry about that. Your aunt is going to visit her today.”
What? This doesn’t make any sense. How would Dad know this? And Aunt Sarah usually visits in the evenings during the week, not on Saturdays. Hmm, something weird is going on. I unfold my arms, take a deep breath, and try to lose the attitude.
“So, how do you know Aunt Sarah is going to visit Mom today?”
“Well, I had a conference call with your aunt and Carole late last night, and she said she would visit your mother today.”
“Conference call? About what? You three don’t have conference calls. You barely talk to one another. Why would you have a conference call, and why wasn’t I part of it?”
“Because you’re a teenager, Simon, and we are the adults. There were decisions that needed to be made.”
I don’t like where this is going. A bead of sweat trickles down my forehead onto my cheek. The alien twists inside me as my eyes tear up.
“What decisions?” I manage to say.
But I already know what he is going to tell me.
I know all the answers. I know where this conversation is headed.
I’ve always known. Dad walks over and kneels on the floor in front of me.
He wraps his arms around me, and the floodgates open, releasing a torrent of tears.
The alien is now clawing to get out. I have to run, to flee, but Dad holds me tight and doesn’t let go no matter how much I struggle in his arms. Can he feel the alien kicking?
When I finally stop struggling, I realize that I’m not the only one crying and shaking. Dad is too.
We sit in silence until I give in and agree to go for a walk where we can talk.
It is a beautiful autumn day. Leaves of auburn, gold, and brown dance in the air in front of us before silently falling at our feet.
The air is crisp and cool with a slight hint of wood smoke coming from the adjacent neighborhood.
It would be a lovely day for a picnic with PJ if life wasn’t shit.
“The swelling has not subsided in your mother’s brain as we had hoped. There has been no change in her condition, and she has minimal brain activity. It doesn’t look good, Simon,” Dad chokes. “I’m so sorry.”
We continue walking, but neither of us says anything. A growing need to run, to get the hell out of here, grows inside. But Dad stops walking, puts his hand on my shoulder and says, “Simon, did you hear what I said? Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”
I look up at him and through gritted teeth, I say bitterly, “Yes. Yes, I do. You want to kill Mom. You want to pull the goddamn plug.”
Dad’s look of shock turns to hurt. “Simon, it’s not like that at all. You don’t understand. Your mother was very clear. She did not want this. This is not living. She won’t wake up from this.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” I say. “I’ve heard stories. Sometimes people do wake up. It’s true. Look it up, google it, do some research.”
“You’re right. It has happened in rare instances, but it is also highly unlikely.
And if your mother does wake up, and that’s a big if, she will not be the same.
There is too much brain damage. The one thing that we do know is your mother’s wishes.
She expressed them to me many years ago, she expressed them to Carole, and she even put it in writing.
She does not want to be kept on life support for any reason.
She is very clear about this. Simon, we gave it a good try.
We have waited over five weeks. The doctors agree. It’s time.”
“When?”
“We’re thinking Monday.”
“Monday? As in the day after tomorrow? Nice of you all to consult me. You all decide to kill Mom last night and then go to sleep like everything’s normal? Carole sneaks off to work and sends you over to give me the news? Not cool! This is disrespectful to me. Why can’t you see it?”
I rip open a blister on the back of my hand from a hive I’ve been itching at repeatedly. It stings like hell, and I run toward home in a sprint. Silent tears fall down my cheeks. Dad runs to catch up with me.
“Simon!” he huffs, out of breath. I ignore him and continue to walk home.
Once back in the apartment, I pick up Sammy and pace back and forth, holding him while the alien twists, turns, and kicks inside.
Dad sits alone at the kitchen table and starts writing something.
I couldn’t care less what he is doing, so I take Sammy, go to my room, and lock the door.
I curl up in bed and cry myself to sleep.
Aknock on the door startles me awake. I’m disoriented and now I’m not sure there was a knock on the door.
Did I dream this? Maybe this was all a bad dream?
A nightmare. But another knock comes along with Dad’s voice saying, “Simon, your phone has been ringing on and off for an hour. You left it in the living room. I thought I should finally answer it for you.”
I get out of bed and unlock my door. Dad is standing in the hallway holding out my phone to me.
“It’s someone named PJ. He said he is very worried about you. He also said he is at the hospital, and he is wondering why you’re not there. I don’t understand. Were you supposed to meet someone at the hospital?”
Fuck! How could I forget? It’s Saturday; of course PJ would be coming to the hospital to be with me today. I try to grab my phone from Dad, but he holds it out of reach over his head.
“Hold on, mister. Who is PJ and why is he at the hospital with your mother?”
I glare at him, certain he sees hate and anger in my eyes, but I don’t care. He lowers the phone dejectedly, and I snatch it out of his hand.
“He’s my boyfriend,” I retort. “Is that okay with you?”
I slam the door shut and lock it behind me.