Chapter 21
Twenty-One
My brothers, Erica, and I wait for news about my father.
After the initial flurry of conversation, we’re mostly quiet.
The dull hum of activity blends into the background, my anxious thoughts quickly drowning it all out as time inches forward at a glacial pace, the fate of my immediate future hanging in the balance.
A couple of hours pass, and it’s work forcing all the doomsday prophecies from my spiraling thoughts.
The doctor finally emerges, and we all rise as he approaches and verifies that we’re here for my father. He’s middle-aged, tall and fit, wearing blue surgical scrubs. “I’m Doctor Jansen.”
“How is he?” Erica blurts. “Was it a heart attack?”
“Yes,” he confirms, his tone calm and self-assured. “We stabilized Mr. Callahan, and he’s being closely monitored in the intensive care unit, but there are some complexities I need to explain. Based on his symptoms, tests, and angiogram, he requires open heart surgery.”
Erica gasps, a hand flying to her chest.
“Due to the damage his heart sustained, we need to wait a few days to ensure his body can handle the stress of the procedure. He’ll remain in the hospital at least until then.”
“Is he in danger?” My stepmother whispers, her voice weaker now.
“He’s vulnerable, which is why our critical care team has him under observation, but performing the surgery will improve blood flow to his heart muscle, relieve his symptoms, and help prevent future injury.
I know it’s a lot to digest, but he’s in good hands.
What other questions do you have for me? ”
“When can we see him?” Townshend asks.
“Someone will alert you when that’s possible.”
Townshend prods for more information about the necessary surgery but white noise roars in my ears, my heart beating so fast in my chest it almost feels like I might have an attack.
I’m panicking and I’m unsure why…yet it’s consuming, a looming premonition.
Like witnessing a tornado funnel drop from the sky and the unnerving anxiety of not knowing which direction it’s headed.
The doctor checks his pager and begs off, reiterating we’ll be kept informed. He walks briskly away as we stare silently at each other, absorbing the news.
The pressure to stick around for this shit closes in on me. I’m missing what little time with Jax remains, and I’ve got a job waiting in Florida with a crap ton to do before that happens.
I’m so fucked.
My father screws me over once again.
What can I honestly do here anyway? He’s got a wife to manage this. And my brothers live closer than I do if it came to that, although they also have lives that don’t deserve to be interrupted or sacrificed for this asshole.
I should call Jax, but I can’t. Don’t. Won’t. Not until I better understand what I’m dealing with. Not until I stem the rage brewing at my core, the familiar black curtain of despair already descending.
“Did he listen? No,” Erica tsk-tsks. “All that butter, red meat, bacon and eggs on weekends, ice cream every night. I told him this would happen.” She looks pissed, not sad.
Me too, Erica.
We hunker down in the waiting room. It’s another few hours before anyone’s cleared to see him. Family only. No more than two of us at a time with limited visitation. Erica and Townshend go first then Graham and I.
It’s hard to muster any sympathy staring at my father’s current reality.
His eyes are closed and mouth agape, his sallow skin resembling a corpse.
He’s hooked up to machines and an IV, a cannula shoved in his nose to help him breathe.
Bitterness burns through me, along with some small fraction of regret or sorrow or something.
Not that I expected anything to be different with him but seeing what looks like death knocking at his door, it seems assured now that any second chances for a normal relationship…
Jesus. That ship sailed eons ago.
Perhaps without realizing it, I thought something was salvageable between us if he ever changed his stripes.
Five minutes is almost too long to be here, the urgency to flee clawing at my skin.
I need to figure out my exit strategy.