Chapter 53 Zeke
fifty-three
Zeke
Avalon’s words have been engraved in my brain since she said them.
Your mom would be ashamed of you.
I don’t know what right she thinks she has to tell me what my mom would think about how I’m coping, but it’s not her place. She knew my mom for all of five seconds and wants to believe she understands what I’m going through?
I’m not her mom; regardless of what she thinks, I’m not a problem that needs fixing. I have a couple drinks to cope with my mom dying, and suddenly, everyone thinks I have a problem.
There’s a knock on my door, and I roll my eyes. Everyone’s always checking on me. I can’t go an hour without someone at my door to see if I need anything.
My mom.
That’s what I need.
“Go away, Declan!” I yell. “I’m not hungry.”
My bedroom door opens anyway, and it’s the last person I want to see.
“I’m not one of your friends,” My dad says, “so you can’t just push me out like them.”
“You’ve had no problem staying out of my life for the last five years, so why are you suddenly interested in it now.”
He walks in and sits on my bed, “That’s not fair, Zeke. I haven’t been absent from your life; your whole life just revolved around being in that hospital—”
“Being with my mom,” I argue. “Who was dying, but I’m sorry if my spending time with her was an inconvenience to your life.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” He shakes his head. “Just because I wasn’t with your mom at the hospital doesn’t mean I wasn’t there for her.”
“You sure as hell weren’t there for her the day they rushed her to the emergency room. If Marjorie wasn’t working that day, I never would’ve gotten to say goodbye.”
“I was working.”
“You weren’t supposed to be,” I counter. “You were supposed to be home with mom. You were supposed to be off, but yet again, you pushed her aside to go drown yourself in your work.”
“You mean like how you’re drowning yourself in booze?”
“You have no right,” I whisper. “You don’t understand what—”
“You’re right,” he cuts me off. “I don’t know how hard this all has been on you. I should’ve stepped up and done better. I never should’ve let you take her to all those appointments or get so wrapped up in being there for every check-up, but we can’t go back in time and fix all of that.”
“Yeah, we can’t go back in time. She’s gone. Nothing you say or do can change that; you should just leave.”
“I talked to your mom every day,” he begins. “Every single day, we video chatted so I could see her because regardless of what you think about me, she was the love of my life.”
“Then why weren’t you there?!”
“I wasn’t working,” he admits. “Not at the law office.”
“Were you cheating on her?”
I hate to admit that the thought has crossed my mind a few times over the years. He was always distant, and I originally thought it was because he was trying to figure out how to deal with everything. But occasionally, I thought something else was preoccupying his mind… or someone.
“No.” His answer is firm, and his face is full of hurt. “I don’t know how you could even think that Zeke. I loved your mom. More than anything. More than everything.”
“Then what were you doing if you weren’t at work?”
“Research.” He shrugs. “I was traveling to any and every state and showing them your mom’s case to see if she’d qualify for any of their trials.”
My heart sinks to my stomach. All these years, I’ve hated my dad.
I’ve hated the way he acted like she didn’t exist like she wasn’t dying.
My mom allowed me to think it was because hospitals weren’t his thing.
After all, they made him think about his parents.
In reality, he was doing the only thing he could.
Trying to help her get better.
“Why did you keep this from me?” I fidget with my fingers.
“Your mom and I were worried that you’d give up more of your life to come with me,” he responds. “You already gave so much of your time to her; she thought you’d drop out of college and hit the road.”
I would’ve. I would’ve done anything to help her.
“But mending our relationship isn’t my main reason for stopping by,” he continues. “I’m worried about you, son. I’m worried that you’re traveling down a path you won’t be able to come back from.”
I think about the handle of bourbon underneath my bed, next to an empty one I polished off yesterday. It’s the only thing that’s been able to mend the pain. Everyone comes in, and all I see is the pity on their face. Nobody knows what to say to me.
“I just don’t know how to handle it,” I admit. “Nothing works.”
“I wish I knew what to say.” My dad frowns. “But speeches were never my forte; they were your mom’s. She always knew the right thing to say.”
“Yeah, she did.”
“So, hopefully this will help.” He hands me a DVD with For Zeke written in my mom’s handwriting across the top. “She knew it wouldn’t be easy.”
“She prepared for this?”
“She prepared for everything.” He smiles. “I didn’t have to lift a finger when it came to planning her funeral; all the plans were laid out for me. And for you. Now, all that’s left for you to do is watch this video and show up on Saturday. For her, Zeke. For your mom.”
He places a hand on my shoulder, giving it a small reassuring squeeze.
“I think you should watch this on your own.”
I watch him leave and then grab my computer to play the DVD. My mom appears on my screen in a matter of seconds, looking like her old self. Not the version I last saw her as, but the one I grew up with.
I take a deep breath and press play.
“Hi, baby.” Her voice makes me feel whole again. It makes me feel at peace. The numbness… the nothingness slowly dissipates. And for the first time since I said goodbye to my mom—
I cry.