Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
I didn’t sleep a wink. My head hurt from crying so much from wondering how we would get out of this awful situation.
“Don’t cry baby girl,” my dad’s weak voice breaks through the eerie silence of the sterile white room.
“Dad!” I immediately sit up in my chair.
His eyes are at half-mast and a ghost of a smile curves his lips. I don’t remember so many lines in his face and so many gray hairs. When did my father become old?
He smacks his lips together. “Thirsty,” he whispers.
I get up to fill his waterglass with the pitcher on the table. I then gently lift his head and place the glass against his mouth.
He takes a few small sips at a time until the glass is half empty. “Ahh. Thanks. My throat feels much better.”
“I was so worried about you.”
“I’m going to be okay. When I get out of this hospital, I’m going to make you a pot of my famous gumbo. I know how much you love it.”
“Dad, the only thing you’re going to do when you get out of here is rest.”
I really want to bring up all the documents I’d gone through earlier but now wasn’t the time.
“I’m sorry you had to see me like this, baby girl.”
“It’s okay, I’m glad I came home because I don’t know what would have happened if no one was around when you—” I break off with a sob.
“Shh, it’s going to be okay. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve still got some years in me yet.” He attempts what seems to be a chuckle, but he only manages to sneeze a bit.
“Dad, I love you so much.”
“I love you too, baby girl. But you don’t look like you’ve gotten any sleep. You need to go home and rest.”
I shake my head. “No, Dad. I want to stay here with you.”
“I won’t be able to relax if you’re here hovering over me. Zora…I know you saw all those bills on my desk.”
I squeeze his hand. “Dad, we don’t need to talk about that now. You need to get as much rest as possible. Your blood pressure was sky high. Have you been taking your medication like you’re supposed to?”
Another smile graces his lips. “You sound so much like your mother right now. And you look like her too. You may not want to talk about it but I need to get this off my chest.”
“Dad—”
“No, let me finish. I didn’t want to burden you with my problems because you don’t need to be weighed down with my problems. I’m sure I’ll figure something out. I can work out an arrangement for the house.”
“With what money, Dad? The bank isn’t going to put you on a payment plan once you’re in foreclosure. But let’s not worry about that right now. We can talk about it when you get discharged. There is something I wanted to ask you though, why didn’t you tell me about the cancer.”
He sighed and looked at the ceiling almost as if he was seeking divine intervention. “It’s not that serious.”
“Dad, since when has cancer not been serious?”
“It’s stage one prostate cancer. I only have a few more rounds of radiation and my doctor said that should take care of it.”
I release a heavy sigh as my head falls into the palm of my hand. My stomach begins to hurt and I’m on the verge of bursting into tears again. I desperately fight to hold them back because I don’t want to cause him further distress.
“You should have told me.”
“If I did, you probably would have taken time off work to come take care of me. You are entitled to a life of your own. You’ve forgotten that I’m a grown man capable of taking care of myself.”
“You’re doing a fine job of it considering the state of your finances and how the house is in foreclosure!” I snaped and immediately regretted it.
He slowly closes his eyes and grimaces.
I’ve never raised my voice to my father in my life and this is the last place I need to be doing it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bought that up.”
“It’s okay. But you don’t have to worry about that. When I get out of here, I’ll take care of it.”
“How Dad? With what money?”
“I’ll figure something out. I have a little something stashed away.”
I’d gone through his bank statements, he barely had enough to keep the utilities running every month.
“Dad, you need to be realistic. We’ll take care of this together. I’ll make sure you don’t lose the house even if I have to sell everything I own.”
He shakes his head so vehemently, his canula dislodges. His breathing becomes ragged, and he struggles to breath.
The machine starts to beep frantically and I start to panic.
Two nurses rush in and I’m shooed out of the room and for the second time within a span of 8 hours, I think I’m going to lose my dad.