Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
God, how I fucked up.
“Your father wants to go down to the lake.”
I scowled at that. “It’s a bit cold today. I told him we’d go for a walk down by the lake tomorrow.”
Lila scooped my hands in hers and squeezed. “Yeah. But he wants to go today.”
There it was. That look I had been waiting for, but wasn’t ready for. I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Do you think…?”
Lila slowly shook her head. “I don’t know. I woke up in your arms today, and I didn’t want to think about it. But then I saw him in that wheelchair, skin and bones, grimacing every time he swallowed and barely able to form a sentence…”
I swore under my breath. Wild emotions clogged my throat. “I’m not ready, Lila.”
“I know. But I’ll be here, Maddox. I’ll be right here.” She showed me her pinky and gave me a wobbly smile.
I wrapped my pinky around hers. “Promise,” she whispered.
“Maddox.” My father’s sickly voice broke us apart. I turned around and saw my mom wheeling him toward us. He was dressed comfortably to go out. Spring was upon us, early this year, but it was still quite windy and a bit chilly out.
I cleared my throat. “Ready?”
He nodded, and I took the handles of his wheelchair and pushed him outside. The lake was on our property, only a seven-minute walk away. Lila and my mom followed behind us, from a safe distance away.
After a short walk, we reached the bench that overlooked the lake. I settled his wheelchair beside the bench and took a seat.
“Did you want to talk to me?” I knew there was something… I could tell by his tensed silence. And the fact that my mom and Lila stayed a few feet away and didn’t join us. That meant, whatever my father had to say to me, it was between the two of us.
“Always so perceptive,” he chuckled, only to end up in a coughing fit. I patiently patted his back and gave him a minute to gather himself again. My eyes fell on the blood in the corner of his mouth, and I quickly swiped it away with his handkerchief.
His hand shook, as he gave the back of mine a gentle pat. I stared down at our hands. His, wrinkled, bony and frail. Mine, big, strong and healthy. The sight of our hands touching made me realize how far our relationship had come.
Time didn’t erase the past.
But it did heal some of the hurt.
He took a shaky breath. “My biggest mistake was letting you think I wasn’t proud of you, Maddox.”
I flinched, not expecting this conversation. My hand dropped from his, clenching into a fist.
He didn’t pause. “Despite everything, you became the man I always wanted you to become. You are capable of many great things, Son. You’re not unworthy.”
Ah fuck.
I opened my mouth to stop him, but he spoke over me in his sickly, trembling voice. “You are worth so much, and I was a shitty father, for never telling you that.”
My father clumsily grasped for my hand again, and he tugged me forward. I left the bench and squatted down in front of him, where he wanted me. We were eye level now. His weak hands squeezed mine.
I closed my eyes, feeling the burn behind my lids. “I just wish we had more time together,” he said.
Spending the last four months with my father made me realize that I wanted that too. I wanted all the lost time, and I wanted more. I wanted tomorrow, next week, next month and next year.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his voice cracking.
I bowed my head over our hands. We stayed like this for a long minute. The more time I spent like this, the harder it became for me to… breathe.
The ache in my chest intensified. “I’m sorry,” he said again, as if last time wasn’t enough.
“Dad,” I murmured, the wind carrying my voice.
His chest rattled with a choked sound. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” I said tightly, “Dad.”
We stayed like this for a long time. Maybe thirty minutes. Maybe an hour. Maybe more.
Mom and Lila eventually joined us. I finally lifted my head up, to see my mom standing behind my dad, her hands on his shoulders. Lila came to stand beside me. After a silent second, she reached for me, that invisible thread tugging her closer. Lila placed her hand on my shoulder.
My chest expanded, as I finally took a real breath, without my lungs feeling like they were being crushed under a weight.
My father gave me a weak smile. He nudged his chin toward Lila and gave me a nod of approval. I chuckled, feeling the tension dissipating from my neck.
This was the beginning of the end.
Brad Coulter passed away a day later, surrounded by his small family. I held Maddox’s and Savannah’s hand, as he took his last breath, in his own bed.