by Bry Foster
Mild. When I think of the word, things like salsa come to mind. Nothing sounds mild about my father’s heart nearly giving out on him because of his alcohol abuse. While they are working to get my father in a better condition than he came in with, I think about the fact that I may not be able to see him until tomorrow. I feel so angry, so upset with him but also me.
Did I really ever do all I could to get him help? If anything I’ve bailed him out of the trouble brought on by drinking but I never really rectified the situation passed suggesting he go to AA or thinking about a rehab facility.
“How are you feeling?” Liz whispers to me hours later as we sit in the corner of the cold, sterile, waiting room of the hospital. Jasmine left a little while ago with Tomas to go get everything with our house situated and load up any items left behind. I couldn’t care less if everything was gone by now. The things in that apartment are minuscule at best and not more important than my being here. I told her that it was not necessary—though it really was— but as usual she insisted on going and I am grateful. Liz just returned from getting us coffees and muffins from the coffee shop around the corner. The hospital coffee tastes worse than the mud pies I used to make at recess.
“Like I should have done more to stop this from happening.” I say.
“You couldn’t have prevented this, Khloe. You’ve done more than your share of looking after your father. You even debated dropping out so that you could pick up another job. You are his daughter, Koko. Not his mother. You can’t force a grown man down a path he doesn’t want to go down.” A part of me agrees with Liz. A larger part of me wonders if that’s true, how did we end up here?
Another thought comes to conception. “This hospital bill. My dad had very limited health insurance at his job—which I am sure ran out a few weeks ago since he got fired. I can only imagine how much of those tests, surgery and medicines will not be covered by that insurance. Then our house? I’m going to be homeless in my last few months of high school.” I whisper before putting my head in my hands. I think that the freezing cold of the hospital is starting to seep through the fabric of my clothes now that I have gotten some information about my father’s condition and the adrenaline is not pumping as fiercely through my blood. Goosebumps line my legs and arms.
Liz delicately rubs my back and stays quiet for a little while then says, “You know you would never be homeless. You always have a home with us. You’re my sister, Khloe. Blood couldn’t make us any closer.” Her words make me cry again and then I feel bad for being so utterly emotional today. I would much rather enjoy a good cry in my own room, away from the outside world looking in.
“Thanks Liz. You are my sister in every way that matters.” I lean up and wrap one of my arms over her petite shoulders. She does the same around my back and we both touch our temples together as we sit in our awkward but, comfortable embrace. I know that I may never have the family I want in my life. Yet, I cannot deny that I am absolutely blessed with all the family I need, right here.
My mind keeps slipping to Cash. Wondering if he got on the plane isn’t helping my situation but I can’t help myself. He never text me back before my phone died and now that it has I’m going crazy wondering if he tried to call or contact me, or if he’s halfway to Paris by now. I sigh and sink further into my chair. It shouldn’t matter. If today showed me anything it’s that my priorities have been out of order. I clearly have more important things to focus on besides Cash.
Then why can’t I stop thinking about him?
When Jasmine returns she says, “I bought you girls a change of clothes as well as some snacks. I thought you might be more comfortable in something else. Flower Pot, I talked to your landlord and the police. Tomas and I packed up anything I thought you’d want. A few of your clothes and TV were gone though, Hon.” She gives me a small smile as she hands me the plastic bag. I give her one back.
“You’re the best Jas.” She touches a hand to her heart and gives me a kind smile filled with love and empathy. It takes a little of the weight I have been feeling on my shoulders off and Liz and I head into one of the bathrooms to change. I feel much better in the dark sweatpants and long sleeved t-shirt Jasmine brought back. Liz got jeans and a sweater. Jas knows us so well.
Liz, Jas, and I sleep in the waiting room. We’re lucky enough to have it to ourselves for a few hours. When the waiting room door creaks open I startle awake. A doctor comes in and asks for the family of Darrel Hudson. I stand, wipe the crust from my eyes and follow him outside of the door.
“Your father pulled through the surgery pretty well for the most part. We would like to run more tests to identify any further issues that may complicate his recovery process.” I nod in understanding.
“So, what is next?”
“Next, we let him get some rest. He is in recovery right now, sleeping off the anesthesia. We have put him on some blood thinners and fluids. You will be able to visit with him first thing in the morning but, I think it is best to let him rest for now.” He gives me what I assume is supposed to be an encouraging smile. He asks me some of the same questions that the nurse did before exiting to do whatever else it is doctors do after midnight.
I turn to start going back into the waiting room when I hear feet scuffing the floor. I turn around and my jaw drops. Walking towards me with wrinkled clothing and dark circles under forest green eyes is Cash.
“Wha? What are you doing here?” I ask in disbelief. Maybe I didn’t really wake up. Maybe I’m still asleep and dreaming.
He stops just a breath away from me and puts his hands in his pockets.
“I came to see if you were well.”
“Aren’t visiting hours over? How did you even get in here.” He quirks his lips in that cocky way that drives me crazy.
“Night nurse was going on her lunch break.” I roll my eyes.
“Typical.” We ‘re both quiet. Just staring at each other. Even in his haggard state, he’s beautiful. He stares at me intensely. His olive skin slightly pale. Dark circles under his eyes. But his eyes are bright as ever. He sighs.
“I’m so sorry about my family, Beauté. I guarantee Clara will pay for this.” I look away from him. Although I’m glad to hear it wasn’t his mother that threw my family under the bus, it doesn’t really change anything. Bringing them up still feels like a slap across the face. I deflect.
“Shouldn’t a guy who has a family history in make-up have some concealer for those bags under your eyes?” He doesn’t crack a smile but he does grab under my chin to make me look at him. Even after the day I’ve had, his touch lights me up. It’s the first warmth I’ve felt all day.
“Don’t.” He doesn’t have to explain, I get it. He gets me. He knows I’m trying to keep him out. “I apologize for all the hurt my family has caused you.”
“I must admit it’s something I didn’t see coming when I agreed to this.”
“If I had, I never would have asked this of you.” He looks pained, his eyes shift a little as if he’s watching his words. My brow furrows.
“It’s not your fault.” Again, we just stare at each other. Like we can imprint all of our thoughts and feelings into the other’s mind if we stare hard enough. Being in his presence feels so right it almost hurts. This can’t work anymore. We can’t do this anymore. Being with Cash distracts me from everything I’ve set my mind to. All of my goals and focus melt away when he is drifting through my mind all day. It doesn’t help that his family won’t accept me. No matter how much we want this to work—real or not—sometimes caring for someone, loving someone is not enough.
“Cash…we—“
“Non.” He says so harshly that I have to look at him. “I know what you are thinking, and it isn’t going to work” I shake my head but he talks over me. “We’re going to stay together.”
“Cash. This will never work. We will never work. Just look how much we had to go through just to get here. Eventually you have to ask yourself if this is all worth it.”
“You ar
e worth everything and more. We can—“
“I’m hurt Cash.” I whisper but he hears me. I look into his eyes. “I’m hurt. The day I had today…it broke me. Do you understand? Seeing my family life slandered like that. Seeing my father hounded and humiliated on TV like that. Seeing him in that ambulance. Knowing that the mother of the person I care so fiercely about was responsible…it hurts my soul Cashel. My heart aches. It’s so fractured it feels like it’s hanging in pieces.” I tell him. He’s stunned. I’m stunned. I don’t think I’ve ever been so honest with anyone that wasn’t Liz. Yes I’m a jokester. Yes I can be a bitch. But, I have feelings too. And they’re hurt.
Cash staggers back a step like I hit him. I keep talking.
“Everything has gotten so out of hand. So many things are up in the air now. My father’s health. Where I’ll live. What my future looks like. I don’t know if any school will take me seriously after the fiasco I faced today. I just…I can’t do it anymore.” Tears are rolling down my cheeks. I feel so raw and exposed. My heart is on my sleeve and I’m baring my soul to him. His jaw sets and I know he’s getting ready to fight me on this.
“Please don’t.” It’s all I can get out before hiccuping loudly to keep a sob down. He stares into me like he’s trying to sew my fractured heart together by looking at me. He clenches his teeth.
“If this is what you think you want right now, I’ll give it to you. Because I care about you enough to respect your feelings. But, I’m not letting you go Beauté. You’ve been mine since the day I set eyes on you. And I’ve been yours since I knew what love is. Because, no one else could give me the feelings you do.” I’m crying harder now. Roughly wiping the tears from my cheeks I nod. “Can I stay with you tonight? I promise I will give you the space you need in the morning.”
I should say no, but I don’t want to. I want him close to me. I nod and he leans down and sets a chaste kiss on my lips that heals my heart just a little. I lead him into the quiet waiting room and we push a few chairs together so that we can lay next to each other. I grab my pillow and blanket we got from a nurse earlier and Cash and I lie our heads on it. He covers us with the blanket and pulls me close to him so that we are facing each other. Our noses almost touching. He’s warm and hard and strong against my smaller, soft body. Before I can talk myself out of it. I lean up and kiss him. He kisses me without holding anything back. Gripping my hip in one hand and the side of my face in the other. Our breathing is ragged when I push him back slightly. He kisses my hair and pulls me into him more.
And on those hard waiting room chairs, curled up next to the boy that I love. I sleep like a baby.
Cash was gone when I woke up. My father wakes up almost twenty-four hours later and a nurse comes to let me know that I can see him. Liz and Jasmine leave to pick up breakfast while I go. My stomach is empty but I am so nervous about seeing him that food would not do me any good. At the moment I am trying hard to believe that my father is doing well so when I open the door I can expect him to look normal. That is not the case.
When we get to my father’s room door the nurse taps on it twice before opening it and holding it for me. The room lets in tons of light from the freshly peaking sun. The TV is on and the machines around him hum and beep. One clothes pin looking thing is on his finger. An IV drip is stuck in his arm and a heart monitor beeps along, filling the small space with accompanying noise to the TV.
I feel a frown stretch my face as I see the plastic circles across my father’s chest. I turn back to the nurse. “What are those?”
She closes the door behind us and then says, “Electrodes. They monitor your father’s heart activity more closely for us.” All business. “Well, I will give you two some time alone. Mr. Hudson, if you need anything just hit your buzzer.” She says before smiling at us and leaving.
My father’s eyes open and meet mine and the nurse flips on the light switch before stepping back outside of the room. “Hey Khlo.” My father says to me and his voice is raspy as ever. He swallows hard and then pats the bed next to him. I’m surprised by the action but take him up on his offer anyway. I sigh and then walk over and perch on the edge, trying not to disturb the wrinkled white sheets or his legs under them. I notice that one of his arms shakes and I reach for it. His hand shakes as I place it between mine and I look into his brown eyes.
“Gave me quite the scare.” I say under my breath. He looks at me and then looks away at the TV.
“Gave myself quite the scare. I thought something was seriously wrong with me, but the doc says it’s the liquor.” He huffs as if that’s outrageous. “Been drinkin’ this way over ten years with no problems, and then this happens. It’s got to be my blood pressure or somethin’ else.” I blink, twice. Three times. No problems? Getting fired from more jobs than I can count was not a problem? Getting eviction notices on the door of every place we have ever lived in, including where we live in now is no problem? Not providing food for you or your daughter was no problem? And now this? And still he sees nothing wrong with the way he has been living—and I use that term very loosely—his life?
“Are you kidding me with this?” I snap louder than I intended too. He snatches his hand away from me. My blood thumps so harshly through my veins that I’m surprised they don’t jump and inflate noticeably as if I were a cartoon character.
“What’s your problem?” My dad bites out.
I feel my eyes go wide and my hands curl into clenched fists. I may explode.
“My problem? My problem? My problem is that the man that is responsible for my life saw it fit to instead worry about his own wants instead of putting his kid first. My problem is that our roles of responsibility have been switched and warped in a way that if you weren’t older than me, I wouldn’t be sure which one of us is actually responsible for the other person here. My problem is that you don’t see that you have a problem. My problem is that I can’t even make normal relationships with other people because I am so wholly screwed up I’m not sure what healthy relationships should look like, that I push people I could grow to care for away because I don’t feel deserving of that affection. Because I’ve never gotten it before!”
“Now wait a goddamn minute. Is this about that boy? I do not approve, you hear me? You aren’t getting married!” He tries to sit up and winces and I almost feel bad. Almost. Because I have been letting all of these emotions build up for years. I feel like my emotions are little termites and I am that rickety old wooden house at the end of the street being eaten alive. Every word that I say helps those termites take a bigger bite out of that wooden house. It starts to teeter as the foundation weakens. I have been caring for my father for years. He is more a child to me than I am to him and I am sick of it. I jeer at his disproval.
“You know what, it is about him. Because I finally found someone that makes me feel even a little bit cared for and I can’t show him the same. You’re screwed up dad. We are screwed up. And you need help. Professional help. If you can’t do what’s best for yourself, than once again, I will do it for you. You are going into a program if I have to lead you there with a bottle of Jack to get you to follow. You are going. Bet your life on it.” I say as I hastily stand up and leave the room. I don’t need to wait until visiting hours are over to leave. If I stay any longer I may kill him myself.
I have to stand on the other side of my father’s hospital door and breathe deeply, to calm myself down. My chest rises and falls abruptly and I may be admitted here if I can’t get my emotions under control. When I feel that I can speak without screaming, I walk passed the nurse at the nurses’ station just as a tired Pam is coming towards the room.
“He’s all yours.” I tell her as I head back to the waiting room.
I have bags under my eyes. I’m eighteen and I have bags under my eyes like I should be in a nursing home. The circles are a deep purple, a sign of the little to no sleep I’ve been getting since I slept with Cash three days ago. I haven’t seen or heard from him since and I don’t know if I should be h
appy that he is giving me what I asked for or depressed…which I am anyway. When the test results came back the doctors found what they thought to be signs of possible liver failure so we get to stay an extra few days in the hospital.
I sigh as I look at myself in the mirror. My brown eyes look so dull I almost don’t recognize them. My dark hair is a frizzy mess. I put my head under the sink and wet the curls enough to snarl my fingers through them into a decent bun on top of my head. Then I pull down my sleeves and head back to the waiting room.
Different people have been in and out of the waiting room. We were moved to the second floor once my father left the OR and went to recovery and we’ve been here since. Currently, there are two elderly ladies waiting on one of their husband’s relatives to leave the room so they can visit with him again. Two person limit. Liz is scrolling through her phone when I walk in. I plop down next to her and sigh.
She turns to me. “Have you called him?”
I shake my head. I don’t know why but I just can’t bring myself to call or text him. Liz eventually told me that she was the one to tell Cash where we were and what’d happened. He’d apparently spent a lot of time arguing with his mother about why he missed his flight, had to book another one and then came to see me.
“Don’t you think you should?”
“And tell him what? I said everything I needed to the other night.”
“Did you tell him you loved him?” I give her a look. “Then you didn’t say everything you needed to.”
“Is that the Depp guy Kara is always raving about?” One of the older ladies in the waiting room says. I look up at her and see that she is looking at the TV behind us. I turn on instinct and almost fall out of my chair. Instead, I stand up and walk closer before turning up the volume on the TV.
“What’s wrong, Khloe?” Liz asks me. She grows quiet once she hears the reporter on Nightly Gossip talking.
“No, no, I think that fella has a mustache.” The elderly lady’s friend replies.