Chapter 51
Fifty-One
“You bring Penny?” Cap asks when I trudge into his room.
“Did you one better.” I unwrap the treat before handing it to him.
His chuckle rattles in his lungs then he takes a bite of the ice cream sandwich. “Not as good as Penny, but it’ll do.”
I settle into the chair next to him and we eat in silence.
“Where’s Nash?”
“Returning a few calls for work.”
He grunts and takes another bite. “What’d you find?”
“Nothing.” I sigh. “Entire yard was covered in concrete. You know to look there?” My brows raise; his too. “Don’t think I didn’t notice it was the same house you made me ask Nash about the letter on that tour.”
“Was it?” He plays dumb. “Must be smarter than I think.”
He finishes his ice cream sandwich, and I throw our wrappers away.
“What’s it mean?” I resettle next to him and lick my fingers clean of the sticky chocolate. “You led me on this wild goose chase only to end up somewhere you looked and I can’t search.”
“Not there,” he finally says, taking a few labored breaths.
“Not anywhere.” As soon as I say it, I know it’s true. The gold isn’t anywhere. And even if it is, it’s nowhere I can touch. Part of me wonders if he knew all along.
We sit in the quiet for a few long moments, and the only sounds in the room are the whir of the air conditioner and the narrowness of his breaths. They’re getting worse—each one fighting a greater battle in his chest to escape his lips. We need more time.
“I was thinking about your DNR,” I say, picking at my cuticles. “If you reconsidered, we’d be able—”
“I never wanted kids,” he interrupts, voice taxed.
I look at him then, hurt and sadness gnawing at me with that truth.
“But these last two weeks of being your dad were the best of my life, kiddo.”
There’s no time for me to bask in the sweetness of that confession, because it comes with an immediate shift. An emptying. I grab his hand to keep him with me. Like he’s a balloon flying toward the sky and all I have to do is hold the string a little tighter.
“Me too, Dad.”
He grunts then coughs. “We didn’t have to do it, but I’m happy we did. You got what you came here for. Everything’ll be okay.”
He’s slipping.
“No.” My heart races. “Dad. No.”
“You let Nash take care of you. And Bennie.” He’s so at ease despite the effort it’s taking him to talk. “And you take care of your mom.”
“Dad.” Every space from my chest to my throat feels like it’s been shoved full of razor blades. “Dad, no.”
“I want you to have the boat. Told the nurse. It’s all in that envelope. You have power of attorney—you take care of it all.”
My gaze shoots to the envelope on the table; I don’t want it.
“Dad.” I keep saying it because he’s not listening. “Dad, no. No!” He’s telling me goodbye, and I refuse to say it back. I will not. I will not lose this man before I really know him. “You will come back to Fontain with me, and we will fix this.”
His face is the most peaceful it’s been since I stepped foot on his boat two weeks ago.
“Goodbyes are always sad, kiddo.” He winces a little. “Go get the gold.”
“I don’t want the gold.” He’s not listening to me, and my voice won’t stop dividing into pieces.
“I want you to stay.” As soon as his eyes close, I feel the life leave his body.
The single monitor in the room blares a beep in confirmation that I shout over.
“Help!” The room spins and time no longer makes sense. “You do not do this, Rueben!”
Nash comes in at the same time as the nurses who move with a somber purpose, unplugging the monitor to silence the room.
“He’s going,” one says.
“He’s not going!” There should be paddles and shocks. There should be aggressive attempts at CPR. “He can’t breathe.”
“He has a DNR,” the nurse says like there isn’t an actual human being dying right in front of her. “We can’t do anything.”
“Fuck the DNR!” I refuse to let a piece of paper be why this ends. “Save him.”
I keep saying it—save him, save him—only I’m not just saying it, I’m yelling it because nobody will listen. “Why aren’t you doing anything?”
Nash hooks an arm around my waist, hushing me with soft words in my ear and tears in his own eyes.
A man in scrubs says, “Ms. Conway, you need to tell him goodbye.”
“I’m not telling him goodbye. I’m telling you to fix this.”
Nobody moves, nobody listens, and my dad is still going.
Dying.
And if they won’t do anything, I will.
I swipe the tears from my eyes and sniff, declaring to the room, “I—I’m the power of attorney.” My voice fills with fight, and every head in the room whips towards me. “I want to rescind the DNR.”
I know enough from internet research to know I have that power—my dad just gave it to me.
The nurse’s eyes go wide. “Ma’am, are you sure?”
Everyone’s waiting on me, including a woman squaring up to start CPR. Her hands hover above my dad’s very still chest. She has to save him.
“Ye—”
Nash grabs my arm. “Rue,” he pleads. “He didn’t want this.”
“I don’t care what he wants,” I argue. “It’s not right.”
“It won’t save him.”
“It’s not right!”
Because it’s all I can think. Because it’s not. Right things can’t hurt this bad. Right things can’t happen after ice cream sandwiches.
Nash’s voice stays low and slow, “And it won’t save him.”
The silence is so loud, the pause so long.
“Ma’am,” someone says. “Confirm rescinding of DNR.”
Nash’s begging eyes break me.
My chest heaves with a resigned sob and a hole opens up inside me as I shake my head.
They all step away, and I take Cap’s hand in mine. My “Goodbye, Dad,” comes out broken.
Then I watch my dad die.
When the nurse announces time of death, the cry that follows is one I’ve never heard in my life. One my body has never been pushed to the point of needing to make. Yet here in this hospital over a man I didn’t have nearly enough time with, it reaches that point.
I fall to the floor, Nash right beside me to catch me when I do. He holds me and all my hurt in his arms as I mourn the man I didn’t know my life was missing.