I quickly correct it. Judging from the white-knuckle grip Valerie has on her seatbelt, I better slow down some.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks after a moment, her eyes glued to the road.
“About what?”
“Whatever has you driving like a maniac?”
“Sorry.” I take my foot off the pedal even more. “There was bad news.”
She pales. “Oh no. About your father?”
I nod, rubbing my lips together into a thin line. “He has six weeks at most.”
She gasps softly and reaches across the seat, putting her hand on my arm. “I am so, so sorry, Padraig.”
“Me too,” I tell her. “I thought I had more time. How do I repair what I had with him when we don’t have any time?”
She clamps her mouth shut and huffs. “Honestly,” she says after a beat, “and don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think you should be focused on what you need to repair. I think you need to focus on making him as comfortable as possible.”
She’s right. I’m being selfish. I know that. But it still hurts. It hurts knowing that this is what it’s coming down to now. About making him more comfortable before he dies.
He’s going to die in that cottage and he’s going to die the way that Gail said he would, deeply unhappy. Because I can’t reach him. I can’t fix him.
I can’t even fix myself.
I…
Suddenly the car starts going faster and I’m hit with a wave of fatigue like no other.
Oh shite.
Oh no.
Not now.
I grip the wheel tight and look down at my feet because I can’t feel them at all, I can’t move them at all, they’re dead weight on the accelerator.
“What’s going on? Slow down!” Valerie yells as I keep the car in a straight line down this country road but even then I’m starting to lose strength in my arms, the strength to grip the wheel, and we’re speeding faster and faster, the green fields flying past us.
What do I do? What do I do?
God, please, what do I do?
“Padraig!” Valerie says, panicking as the car starts to swerve. “What’s happening?”
“Take the wheel,” I manage to say.
“What?!”
“Please,” I say, my hands dropping into my lap. She quickly leans over to grab the steering wheel, trying to keep it straight.
With what little strength I have, I grab my leg at the knee and I move it off the accelerator. It’s like moving a log.
The car starts to slow, wavering across the road as Val tries to control the wheel where she is, just as a car approaches, coming fast in the opposite direction.
“Shit!” Valerie screams, yanking the wheel hard away from the dividing line. The car spins on the icy road a few times and I don’t know where we’re going to end up until it heads into a low ditch. She screams again and the front of the car plows into the grass with a thunk, coming to a sudden stop, sticking in at an angle.
“Oh my god,” she says, waving her hands in the air. “Oh my god. I can’t believe that. We almost died. And that fucker didn’t even stop to check on us!”
She looks at me, her hands at my face. “Are you okay? What happened? You lost control of your legs? What happened?”
I stare at her, my thoughts slow and heavy and laden with guilt.
I could have killed us both.
I shouldn’t be driving at all.
I’ve been in denial long enough.
“Padraig,” she says, pressing her fingers firmly into my cheek, forcing me to meet her determined eyes. “Tell me what the hell is going on with you. Tell me or I’m telling everyone what just happened and what’s been happening. I have a feeling you don’t want anyone to know.”
I try and swallow. “I know. I owe it to ye.”
She exhales and takes my hands into her hands, staring at me with pleading eyes. “Okay then. Please, let me in.”
“Maybe we should push the car out of the ditch first.”
She shakes her head. “No way. You tell me now. I’ll get the car out of the ditch after.”
Fuck it all. Here it goes.
I take in a shaking breath, adrenaline still running through me.
“Before the accident, I wasn’t feeling all that well,” I tell her, my words coming out slow. “I had pain behind my eyes and I was getting dizzy. Sometimes my hands and feet would tingle. I figured I was drinking too much and had a bad cold. Seemed trivial. Then, the accident happened. I had the