37. Chapter 37
Jake
If you had told me my date with Lottie would end with her dry humping me on her couch, I wouldn't have believed you. That moment will live rent-free in my head for eternity—permanent spank bank material right there. The way she moved, taking what she wanted and seeking out her own pleasure, is burned into my retinas. And her tits? Fuck, those beautiful tits—they were so sensitive to my touch. I can remember the way she gasped and mewled as I sucked and bit at them. I need to stop thinking about them; now is not the time to be getting hard when I’m in my car on my way to practice.
The news interrupts the music on the radio, and when the presenter says the date, I stop dead in my tracks.
In just a few days’ time, it will be the tenth anniversary of my father’s death, and I hadn’t even realized it.
I’ve been so caught up with Lottie it completely slipped my mind.
Those happy feelings that had me smiling a moment ago vanish, and the crippling pain returns in a way I never expected.
The thing with terminal illnesses is you always know there is an end date, but you’re never prepared for when that date actually arrives. It’s almost like it’s a surprise—just not a welcome one.
When my dad was diagnosed with stage four bowel cancer six months ago, I didn't pay a lot of attention. Maybe I thought ignorance was bliss, or simply my dad was invincible and could survive anything. He's only 40. How wrong was I?
When I got a text from Mom during my free period to tell me Dad was in the hospital, my initial thought was to brush it off.
He’s been in and out a lot lately, and each time, he’s come home with a smile on his face.
But this time, Mom has insisted I leave school with Alyssa and head straight to the hospital, which makes me more anxious than usual.
“Do you think Dad is going to be ok?” Alyssa asks me when she gets in the car.
“I’m sure he’s going to be fine, Lyss. You know what Dad’s like, he’s always in and out of hospital, making us worry for nothing.”
When we get there, Mom is waiting for us, and that’s when I see it—the haunted look in her eyes. This is it, there’s no coming back from this.
Once we’re settled in the family waiting room, the doctor comes to tell us the verdict.
It seems on top of the cancer, my dad has non-ketotic hyperglycinemia, which causes excess sugar to build up in the body and can affect the brain.
The doctor advises us we need to make a decision and gives us our options.
Basically, we can keep my dad on medication, which will prolong his life for a couple of weeks, but he will be in a comatose state, and the outcome will not change.
Or, we can take him off all meds and let him slip away, which would take twenty-four to forty-eight hours.
They assure us he wouldn't be in any pain and would just slip away naturally. I’m trying to process what the doctor is saying.
Is this really it? I am never going to get to speak to my dad ever again?
How naive have I been to think he was going to get through this?
I literally feel like my heart is shattering, and I mentally go through all the things I didn’t get to do or say to my dad.
That thought alone leaves me sick to my stomach.
My hands clench into fists, and the urge to destroy the waiting room is there at the forefront of my mind.
As a family, we make the decision that it is best to let dad go now rather than prolong the suffering any longer—it’s what he would have wanted.
The nurse asks me if I would like to see my dad and speak to him, but I’m conflicted.
I don’t want to see my dad like that, with all the wires and tubes coming out of him; I don’t want that to be my last memory of him.
Will he even know I’m there? While I sit in the waiting room, torn and uncertain, my mom and sister go in to say their goodbyes.
A nurse comes to sit next to me and tells me about her experience of losing a family member this way.
She says I will regret not saying goodbye and I need this time with my dad.
She’s right. I need to stop being selfish for a minute and say goodbye to him properly. It’s the least I can do.
My dad is my hero, the man who taught me how to skate and signed me up for hockey lessons.
He encouraged my love of Harry Potter, even when other kids made fun of me.
He is the absolute best, and I always aspired to be just like him.
So, when I walk into his hospital room and see a man I barely recognize, the instinct to retreat and bolt from the room is so strong.
I must do this for him, though; he deserves that much.
I look down at my dad, at a loss for what to say. The nurse looks at me and can see the confusion on my face, almost like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Just talk to your dad as you normally would,” she says soothingly.
“Can he hear me?” I ask.
I’m not sure I believe her when she says, “I bet he can hear every word you say to him.”
But it’s a nice sentiment all the same.
“Hi, Dad. I’m not really sure what to say or if you can even hear me, I mean, the nurse says you can so…
” I fight a sob as I continue on and take his cold hand in mine.
“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, saying goodbye to you.
I will miss you so much and I love you with everything I have, even if sometimes I’ve been a little shit and not shown it.
I’m going to make you the proudest parent ever and get drafted to the NHL; I’ll be the best forward they have ever seen.
Every time I score, it will be for you, Dad.
Remember when I made up that stupid worm celebration?
” I half chuckle, half sob. “That’s ours.
There won’t be a day when I don’t think of you.
” I’m struggling to breathe now, my voice is so thick with emotion.
“I’ll step up now and take care of Mom and Alyssa.
You won’t need to worry about them, Dad, they’re in good hands.
I’ll speak to you every day and I’ll make sure to visit all the time where we lay you to rest. You will never be forgotten. Until the next lifetime, Dad.”
I kiss his forehead and clutch my chest as I leave the room, knowing I will never see my dad alive again. And the only person I want to talk to, the one who could ease even a fraction of this pain, is Lottie. She’d know exactly what to say. I wish I had her number.
My mom stays by my dad’s side for the next forty-eight hours until he slips away peacefully. She asked me if I wanted to stay with him too, but I just couldn’t do it. I had said my goodbyes and couldn't bear to see him like that any longer.
The memory hits me like a freight train, and as I take in my surroundings, I realize I’ve made it to the training rink. I don’t even remember getting here while I was overtaken by the visions of the worst day of my life. Lottie forgetting me is a close second.
As I walk to the changing room, my feet feel like lead dragging me down the corridor, my bag slumped over my shoulder.
I’m trying to paste on a smile, to act like I’m ok—the last thing I need is my teammates asking what’s wrong.
I don’t want to bring them down with me when they’ve had to pick me up so much recently. This one I will deal with on my own.
I should have known better though. My team knows me too well, and they can sense the shift in my mood.
Louis’ giant hand engulfs my shoulder as he brings me into a side hug. He’s always so touchy-feely compared to the others. “You ok man? Your date with Charlie not go how you wanted?”
Rubbing at my face as I let out a sigh, I reply, “My date with Lottie was incredible, it’s just on my way here, I was reminded of the date and realized the anniversary of my dad’s passing is coming up. I feel like I’m right back to that day almost ten years ago.”
“Ah fuck, man, has it really been that long?”
“I know, I don’t know where the time’s gone.” I shake my head to try and clear it of the thoughts swirling around.
“Come on, let’s go and slap some pucks at Frenchie, that will cheer you up,” Theo says as he comes round to my other side.
Forcing a smile, I clap them both on the back and make my way out to the rink. I need to get this practice over with so I can go home to my girl.