like a gentle pat on my back, instantly capable of bringing me down off the proverbial cliff. “You’re not going to kill your dad.”
Immediately, my throat clotted with sadness and the reality of our situation. “You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. I’m going to run you through everything you need to do, you’ll have it all written down, and before you know it, it’ll become second nature. Plus, he’ll have a nurse checking on him regularly at home—”
“You?” I glanced over my shoulder, holding onto that tiny spark of hope.
Andy pressed her lips together for a moment before shaking her head. “No. I don’t work outside of the hospital.”
“Oh.” I nodded, turning back to the window to hide my disappointment.
“But,” she swallowed audibly, “I can, um, give you my number. And that way, if you ever have a question or problem, or you know, if you ever wanna just talk about stuff, I’ll just be a call or text away.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
A jolt of excitement punched me in the gut, as I struggled to remind myself that it was nothing more than a professional offer of support. She didn’t like me and she wasn’t doing anything any other good nurse wouldn’t do. But still, having her there in my corner, when my brother and sister felt so far away, made me feel a little less scared and a little less alone. And I needed that more than anything.
***
Years ago, when Pops and I had sold the old place in Brooklyn and moved into our apartment, I’d been pissed that it wasn’t bigger. As much as I didn’t mind living with the old man, I had still wanted more space to call my own. A bigger bedroom, maybe my own bathroom. Hell, just a little more than one thin wall between our rooms would’ve been nice. But now, with him sick at home and sleeping alone, that wall felt too thick and cumbersome. I laid in bed, desperately wanting to knock it down and straining to hear him snore, just to make sure he hadn’t died on me.
Zach called first, making sure Pops was okay, and then Jenna. I felt bad for them, that they were so far away and helpless. They had their own lives now, with families to worry about and things to take care of, but they were still his kids and what kid wants to be away from their dying parent?
But I also felt bad for myself, being the one to watch over him, and wishing I’d had the foresight to see this coming when I’d decided to continue living with him.
Hours ticked by in what seemed like years, as I stared at the ceiling and listened for his signs of life in the next room. Occasionally, I got up to use the bathroom or grab something from the kitchen and I’d stand in his doorway, squinting my eyes into the darkness, to watch his chest rise and fall.
“I’m driving myself fuckin’ crazy,” I mumbled, quietly moving down the hall and to the living room window.
The doctor had strongly advised me not to smoke around him, and if I absolutely needed to, to keep it outside. Really, I probably should’ve decided then and there to quit cold turkey. But I’m not a saint, never pretended to be, and as much as I loved my dad, I knew I was going to lose him, whether I smoked or not. And there’s only so much a guy can lose before he also loses his mind.
I climbed out onto the fire escape and shivered in the cool night air. Fifteen floors down, I knew the air was heavy and sticky, but the humidity never seemed to touch us up here.
I pulled the pack of Marlboros from my pocket, along with my Zippo and phone. I plucked a cigarette out and held it between my lips, as I checked my phone screen for messages, making sure my brother or sister weren’t trying to get in touch with me. It irked me to find that they hadn’t. It shouldn’t have, it was late and they would be sleeping, but while I was here, stressing myself out and unable to sleep, they were enjoying the comfort of their beds. I wondered if I’d be like that, if I wasn’t here. I wondered if I could just fall asleep, knowing my father was at home, living with a time bomb in his chest.
“Knock it off,” I muttered under my breath. I wasn’t going to villainize