couldn’t… breathe. Oh God. This was hell. Pure, absolute hell.
How… how did it come to this?
Oh, right. I left him.
And now he was leaving, going far away, and out of my reach. My lungs caved in, my stomach dropped… and the butterflies? They just died. The emptiness left a hollow ache inside of me. The silence that came with the aftermath; it was louder than any sound.
I swallowed back a cry and turned away from Bianca.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. I heard her feet shuffling away. The door opened, the bell pinged again, cold air washed inside the empty restaurant, and then she was gone. As if she was never here.
As if she hadn’t just trampled over my already broken, bleeding heart.
This had been my doing; yet, it still fucking hurt.
It hadn’t been an easy decision, but this was what I wanted for Maddox.
For him to grow up, for him to accept responsibility…
For this unborn baby to have a decent father.
I walked away for Maddox…
And, as much as it pained me, I didn’t regret it.
21
Maddox
Two weeks later
I fed him another small spoonful. He accepted it weakly, chewing as if it took all his strength to do such a small act. He lost all his hair in three weeks. Lost all his weight, until he was skin and bones. Ghastly pale and wrinkled. His cheeks were drawn in, and his eyes had lost their vibrant colors – a hollow look in them.
Brad Coulter was frail, almost too weak, to even sit up straight and have his own meal. In three weeks, his health deteriorated, until he needed a wheelchair to move around, and one of us to feed him, help him in and out of bed. Taking his bath, alone, became out of the question, when he passed out in the tub a week ago.
Frail. Sick. Dying.
My mother refused to bring a nurse home. She was adamant about taking care of her husband herself, but she grew weary, as the days passed, so I was forced to jump in and help.
If you asked me why I dropped out of this academic year and moved in with my parents, awaiting my father’s death – I didn’t have an answer.
I didn’t want anything to do with my father or my mother – but here I was.
Taking care of them, as a dutiful son. That was what Lila wanted, after all. She told me I’d regret it later, if I didn’t spend these last days with my father. Maybe she was right, I didn’t know.
I didn’t know shit.
All I knew was that the thought of my father dying left a heavy, hollow ache in my chest. I didn’t like it one bit, but it was what drove me here.
Back into the very mansion that I spent my childhood in, lonely, scared… unloved.
My father coughed, and I quickly dabbed the corner of his mouth. He accepted another spoonful, before he shook his head, indicating that he had enough. I placed the half full bowl on the table. He was eating less and less every day.
My mother stood up with a weary sigh. She rubbed her forehead, and I noticed the dark circles under her eyes. “Do you mind helping your father to bed? There are a few documents I have to read.”
“Yeah,” I said.
Brad gave me a small, tired smile. “You don’t have to do this.”
“You’re right, I don’t.” Except, Lila was going to look at me with disappointment in her eyes, if I didn’t.
And maybe I was doing it for… myself.
“C’mon, old man. Time for your beauty sleep.” I pushed his wheelchair into the guest bedroom downstairs. I helped him out of his wheelchair and into the bed, tucking the comforter around his shoulders.
“Maddox,” he said, his voice small and breathy. “I know I never said it before, but I am… I am… proud of you, Son.”
I froze, and my stomach twisted, shock coursing through my veins. My fists started to shake, and the thick vein in my neck pulsed. My heartbeat echoed in my ears, almost too loud.
I shook my head once. “Too late,” I said, smiling acidly.
Brad nodded, as if he knew that would be my response. He knew he fucked up. “Your high school graduation… your mother and I were there.”
“No,” I hissed. “You weren’t.”
His smile was forlorn. “We were. We saw you with Lila and her family and your friends.”