Chapter Five
Jamie
Fifth day at the hospital, and nothing had changed. Not my father’s condition. Certainly not his attitude. I still hadn’t managed to get him to eat, and he’d been pointedly ignoring me since yesterday’s blowup.
When he wasn’t asleep, he stared at the blank television like it had personally wronged him. Every time I asked if he wanted something on, he answered with the same gruff, no.
Okay, so he wasn’t completely ignoring me. But a single word wasn’t much of a conversation, and there was only so much wall-staring I could handle.
I settled into the chair beside his bed and checked Hunter’s latest text.
Math was annoying today
My fingers flew over the screen. Are you still doing fractions?
I waited, leg bouncing, phone clenched tight, hoping I’d caught him between classes.
Yes they r stupid and boring
A quiet sigh escaped as I typed my reply. Well, if you want to be an architect and build stuff like you do in Minecraft, you’ll need to take a lot of math classes.
The typing bubble hovered longer than I liked. Long enough for my chest to tighten.
Then his response popped up.
UGH
Silent laughter shook my shoulders.
If it weren’t for school and a social life that already outpaced mine, I would’ve happily texted him all day. To anyone else, our messages probably looked ordinary. To me, they were proof that everything was still intact. That he was okay. That I hadn’t broken something by coming back here alone.
Leaving my nine-year-old in Toronto with his best friend’s family had felt necessary in the moment. Sensible, even. They’d welcomed him easily, like it wasn’t an imposition at all.
My head accepted that. My heart was slower to follow.
What if this dragged on longer than planned? What if he never quite settled, always a little too careful in someone else’s space?
I could see him hesitating before asking for what he needed, defaulting to yes when he meant no because he didn’t want to be difficult.
Because he was awkward like me. I imagined him curled into a bed that didn’t smell like home.
And the moments when he struggled, the ones no one else would notice, when he might reach for me out of habit and remember I wasn’t there.
That was the thought that weighed the most.
So I read every message twice. Took comfort in small details—what he ate, who he sat with, the casual way he told me about his day. Simple things, offered without effort.
So far, they’d kept the panic at bay.
Another text came through, my smile slipping as hospital monitors beeped their steady rhythm around me.
Jackson wants me to join his baseball team
Something about it didn’t sit right. Teams and baseball were fine, but Hunter had never shown interest, and his asthma usually kept him sidelined.
Do you want to play baseball?
His reply was immediate and honest. Not really but he’s my best friend I don’t wanna let him down
I guess you have a decision to make. I finally released the breath I’d been holding.
Wow thanks mom. best advice yet
The banter was easy, yet something nagged at me. Not once had he asked when I was coming home. He trusted that I’d do what needed doing. Trusted me even when I didn’t trust myself. Somehow, he understood that for now, this was where I was supposed to be.
How did a nine-year-old get so damn wise?
No baseball. But can I take a woodworking class this summer?
My smile widened. Woodworking?
Yeah. I wanna learn to build stuff. You could help since you’re already good at it.
That sounds awesome, bud. Warmth spread through my chest.
Cool :)
Cool. Now go finish your lunch, you hoodlum.
I sat there for a moment after the screen went dark, still smiling.
I was so damn lucky.
Hunter was the best kid I knew, and it had nothing to do with any exceptional parenting skills on my part.
Raising him had been a long, messy experiment.
Trial and error, every step of the way. On my own, there was no one to hand him off to when exhausted, no one to consult when I panicked, and no one else to blame when I screwed up.
And I screwed up a lot.
There were no instructions. No roadmap. Only instinct.
So I gave him all the love and kindness I could. Space to be exactly who he was. Those were the things I remembered most about my mom. Not rules or lectures, but how she made me feel safe.
Whenever I doubted myself as a mother, I thought of her. Tried imagining how she would’ve handled a loud, energetic little boy with a mind of his own. It didn’t stop me from wishing she was still here.
But it made me feel less alone. Less afraid.
The motor in my father’s bed whirred to life, snapping me back to the moment.
“What are you smiling about?”
I startled. Not just because he’d spoken, but because there was no bite to it. No malice. It was the first thing he’d said that didn’t feel like an invitation to argue.
“A few things, actually.”
“I bet.” His mouth twisted. “Can’t wait to get rid of me, can you?”
My smile cracked, and with it, my heart. “What?”
“It’s okay, James. I don’t blame you. I’m a ripe old asshole. Rotten to the damn core. Me being gone will be a blessing. For you and for me.”
And just like that, the calm I’d been holding evaporated.
I should’ve known his civilized approach was just a smokescreen. He’d always liked luring me out into the open so he could cut me down with his hateful words. Even when the negativity was aimed at himself, he had a way of mocking me with it.
Still, he was talking, and maybe that was better than being punished with silence.
“Blessing?” The word burned on the way out. “You think this is a blessing? Sitting here, watching you die, knowing you’re perfectly content to let cancer eat you alive? You don’t even want to try. You’d rather go out miserable, angry, and alone. Yeah, what a gift.”
“Fuck you. I didn’t ask you to come here. I didn’t need any of this shit. If I want to be done with my sorry goddamn life, that’s my prerogative. Who the hell do you think you are to tell me otherwise?”
“Why do you do that?” My chest felt tight, words scraping free. “Why do you always try to push me away?”
“I don’t need to push you away. You’re good at leaving all on your own. Remember?” His words sliced through me.
I had left. Walked away and hadn’t once regretted it.
Did I even have the right to be here? To expect anything from him now?
I’d told myself that facing his own mortality might have softened him, but his body failing hadn’t touched his will. Physically weak, yes. But still so goddamn unmovable. Still determined to hold his ground, even if it meant dying on it.
“Dad—”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hartley. How are you feeling?” Nurse Judy breezed in without the slightest regard for the emotional land mine she’d stepped on. “It’s lunchtime, if you think you might feel up to eating.”
“I’m not hungry.”
I’d watched him bark and bristle at Judy and the other nurses all week, every warning loud and unmistakable. Stay away. Stay back. She hadn’t flinched once.
“Well, how about some tea or ginger ale?”
“Fine,” he grumbled. “Ginger ale.”
“Excellent.” She beamed like she’d just won something hard-earned. Turning to me, she softened her tone. “Why don’t you grab yourself some lunch too, Jamie? You look like you could use it.”
“Are you sure I shouldn’t stay?”
Leaving felt dangerously close to proving his point. Even if he was right, the stubborn streak I’d inherited from him dug in hard. I wanted to stay out of sheer defiance.
“Get out of here,” he muttered. “I don’t need a goddamn babysitter.”
Ever the poet.
“Okay.” I forced my voice steady. “But I’ll be back later.”
It might’ve sounded like a concession, but it wasn’t. It was a promise. Because I wasn’t walking away this time.
I wasn’t giving up on us.