Dad drops me back off at my house, but after seeing my mother’s car in the driveway, he decides that hanging out, may not be the best idea and I agree with him. After the last few days, I don’t need to fight with my mother.
“Okay, Dad, I’ll call you later on.”
“Speak to you then.” I kiss him on the cheek and walk into the house where I find my mother sitting in the living room. “Hey.”
She looks over at me “Hey. Where have you been?” she asks.
I draw in a breath, taking a moment to decide if I should lie or not, but in the end, I choose not to, because I’m too damn tired to come up with a story right now. “I just had coffee with Dad.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, that must have been nice,” her voice is dripping with sarcasm.
‘Why do I bother talking to this woman?’ I think. “So, are you home for dinner?” I ask.
“No, I’m going out. Courtney might come with me. She’s in her room.” Mum then picks up the remote control and starts flicking through channels, dismissing me.
Not bothered, I turn on my heels and walk down the hall to Court’s room where I knock on her door and wait for her to give me the okay.
"Come in."
As I enter, I see her putting her makeup on. “Hey, Court. I want to know if you're going to be home for dinner or if you're going to go out with Mum?” Courtney’s relationship with Rose is nowhere near as strained as the one I share with her. Rose dislikes me because she knows I favor my father. Courtney’s been fed a lot of lies since the divorce, so she doesn’t have a clear view as to who is the better parent.
“I’m going to tag along with mum. What are you going to do?” she asks.
“I’m not sure. I’ll probably stay in and watch some movies.” I shrug.
“Cool.”
And that was that. I leave Courtney to finish getting ready, and after they exit the house, I throw a frozen pizza in the oven and call Zoe. “Hello,” she answers.
“Hey Zoe, I just wanted to see how you are going?” I can hear her fumbling with the phone. “Do you want me to call you back? You sound like you’re in the middle of something.”
“No, babe, it’s okay. I came home to pack a few things to take up to the hospital.”
“How are Jimmy and Annette?” I ask.
“Jimmy’s brainwaves are stable, but they want to keep him under sedation a few more days to help him heal. Annette’s okay for the moment, but if it wasn’t for your dad, I think she would’ve caved to the pressure by now. He manages to keep her level.”
“Dad’s always been good at making people feel better. He’s got a knack for it.”
I hear her drop the phone. “Hey Cass, I’m sorry, but I’ll have to call you back.”
“No problem. Talk to you later.”
“Thanks, babe. Bye.”
“Bye.” I hang up the phone.
Chapter Four
When I arrive at work, I’m met by David, one of the managers and I explain what's happened over the last few days and why I've had to take a few personal days off work. I knew he wouldn’t be upset with me because I never call in sick or take time off. He knows I genuinely love my job. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Cass. That sounds awful. How are you coping?” he rests his hand on my shoulder.
Fuck, I love my boss. “I’m okay. My dad came into town to help me deal with things. If it weren't for him, I probably would have had a nervous fucking breakdown by now.”
He pulls me in for a hug. “It’s good that he’s here. If you want to skip work tonight, I could get someone in to cover for you?” He smiles sympathetically.
My head shakes from side to side. “No, it’s fine. Being here is going to be a great distraction.”
“Okay, but if you feel overwhelmed at any point, just let me know.”
“I will, thank you.” I then proceed to the back room where I put away my handbag, take my name tag out and pin it to my shirt.
When people enter the bookstore where I work, they seem to treat it like a library. It’s as if they need to have respect for the books surrounding them, which makes working here quiet.
It’s a very uneventful evening, thank god. After my shift is finished, I’ve gathered my belongings and begin to close the front doors, I see Hamish walking towards me. Immediately, I turn the key and stop the roller doors from moving further down.
“Hey, Haim. What are you doing here?” I ask.
He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I thought I’d take my best friend out for dinner considering the fact I know she will be moving away from me soon.”
I look at him, confused. “I haven’t made my mind up yet. What makes you so sure I'll be leaving?”
“The fact that Mitch is out partying with Adam tonight, instead of being with you, is how I know.” He gives me a sad look.
Ah, fuck! I hold the tears in the best I can, I finish closing up the store and Hamish then takes me to an Italian restaurant, close by called Catalina’s.
When we arrive and are seated, Haim asks, “So, I take it you didn’t know Mitch was going out without you tonight?”
“No, I didn’t. I really thought that after last night I would, at least, receive a text message sometime today, but he seems to be back to his old ‘I’ll do what I want when I want,' ways.”
Haim gives me a sideways glance, “What happened last night?”
“Let’s just say he got out of me what every guy wants out of a girl. I was convinced he’d changed after how amazing he’d been over the weekend while we were stuck at the hospital, but apparently, I’m naïve and too trusting.” I fight back the tears the best I can.
Haim shakes his head. “You’re not naïve, Cass. Even I thought he was turning a corner, but apparently, we were both wrong.”
“Well, he’s definitely helped me decide my future, that’s for fucking sure,” I huff.
“I take it you’ll be moving to your dad’s then?” he asks quietly.
My eyes close for a moment, but I soon open them again and meet his gaze. “Yep. If I pass my license, I’ll be moving as early as next week.”
I hear my phone beep, and I take it out of my handbag. It’s a text from Zoe.
Zoe: Hey, babe, I wanted to let you know that Annette has set Mark’s funeral for Thursday at 10 AM. Your dad knows the rest of the details, and he will fill you in.
Me: Thanks, Zoe, it’s going to be a rough day, Thursday. I hope you’re coping okay. If you need anything, just let me know. Love you.”
Zoe: Thanks, babe, I will. I love you, too.
I place my phone back in my bag and look up at Haim. “What happened?” He knows me so well.
“That was Zoe. Mark’s funeral is on Thursday at 10 AM.”
Everything becomes so fucking real in that moment. My father’s friend, my Uncle, is dead, and there is no bringing him back. My childhood friend is in a coma, and I stupidly slept with the man I thought loved me, but instead of spending time with me, he’s out clubbing with our friend. I can’t keep going. It’s now become too much, and I break down and cry. My head is in my hands, it’s all too much.
Haim moves his chair so he’s next to me, taking me in his arms, and he lets me sob against his chest. The only words he utters are, "It’s okay, Hun. Let it out."
The fact that it’s Hamish who's sitting here with me rather than the man that should be, pisses me off. It makes me grateful for Hamish, but bitter towards Mitchell. After a few bourbons and some dinner, he takes me home. “Thank you for tonight. I don’t know what the hell I'd do without you.” I lean over the center console and hug him.
“Anytime. Now go and get some sleep. You need it.” He smiles.
I nod. “I do need it. Thanks again.” I then hop out of the car.
When I enter the bungalow, I throw my bag and keys on the sofa. I take out my suitcase from under the bed and pack all the belongings I know I won’t need between now and next week.
I’m leaving.
I'm done.
A
s I pack, I hear my phone ring and see that it’s my dad calling. “Hey, Dad, what’s up?”
“Hi, love. I just had a phone call from my oncologist.”
Instantly, I feel ill. I knew dad had been to see him last week and that we were waiting on results from the biopsy, but after seeing how gaunt he looked today, I knew in my heart it was going to be bad news.
“Lay it on me, Dad.” I sigh.
“It’s not great news. It seems that the cancer has spread to my liver.”
I can feel the tears welling in the corners of my eyes. “What can they do? Do you start treatment here in Melbourne, or do we need to get you back home?” I ask.
Fuck! Why him, why does he have to be the one to suffer?
He stays silent, and with every millisecond he doesn’t say anything, the dread creeps further and further up my body.
“There’s nothing that they can do, love. They’ve given me fourteen months.”
I can’t bring myself to believe him. It’s all too much. “Bullshit, Dad! This kind of crap doesn’t happen to us!” I say without thinking.
“I’m so sorry, love. Look, I know it’s late, but do you want me to come and pick you up, so we can go out for a while?”
“Yes. I’ll see you soon, Dad.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Bye.”
“Bye, love.” I hang up the phone and let it drop at my side.
After staring into the abyss for some time, I pull myself out of it and get changed to go out with dad. I dig out my most grown-up outfit I can find and do my makeup, so I look older, I don't want to get carded. After the shocking news dad just delivered, it’s only appropriate we go out and start drinking.
Just as I’m putting on the final touches, dad calls and tells me he’s waiting out the front. When we were headed to the bar, it was decided that we won't be talking about the 'C' word until we’ve got a shitload of bourbon lining our stomachs.
Thank fuck, I managed to get into the bar without any problems, but four shots later, I have to ask him how he feels, I can’t hold back for a moment longer. “Dad, what’s the plan? Do we seek treatment here or would you prefer to get treatment at home to give you more time?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not doing any treatment, love. I want to enjoy the time I have left.”
My heart jumps into my throat. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “What the fuck do you mean you won’t do the treatment? That’s crazy!” I need him in my life. I need him to stay.
“I’m not spending the next fourteen months lying in a hospital bed, throwing up.” He shrugs.
I scoff at him. “What? Dad, what if it will help you?” I take another shot, then slam the empty glass down on the table, my sadness turning into anger.
“The doctors were very clear, Cass. Treatment won’t help the situation. It may prolong my horrid existence for a few weeks or so, but wouldn’t you rather I enjoy my last few months?”
I feel as if I’ve been stabbed in the heart. “I guess so.” He pounds back another shot. “Should you be drinking that much, Dad?”
“Why not? I’m a dead man walking. Why not have fun along the way?” He laughs.
To anyone else, his words may not seem appropriate, but when you are dealing with my father’s side of the family, laughter is the only coping mechanism we have.
Two years ago, when my grandmother was diagnosed with motor-neuron disease, things went downhill, fast, and she was placed in palliative care. After day five, whenever the doctors would come to check on her, they’d shake their heads at us. Nan was already supposed to be gone, but what they didn’t know was, that no matter what condition my nan was in, she had never wanted to die. She was as strong-willed as they come.
Despite the circumstances, we all still enjoyed spending that time together, as a family. We took it in turns to sit by her side because we didn’t want her passing while alone. When it would be my turn to be with her, I'd constantly tell her that it was, in fact, okay for her to go.
On day nine, I left to go home and cook for the family. It was something I tried to do over the week, so they were eating properly, and as I poured the spaghetti sauce into a container, I heard my phone ring. I dropped what I was doing and picked it up. It was Aunty Joan. “Joan, what’s the matter?” I braced myself. Even though the family called each other when we would take turns to quickly go home to shower and change, my gut knew that something was very wrong.
“She’s gone, Cassie,” she whispered.
“I’ll be right there.” I hung up the phone, I called Hamish, and I asked if he could take me to the palliative care center.
The minute I was dressed, and out the front, I saw his car. He was already there, waiting for me, so I hopped in, and Haim didn’t say a word, but he took my hand in his free one and rested them on the console. He didn’t let go the whole trip.
When we’d arrived at the center, I jumped out of the car and raced inside. Haim caught up to me, he retook my hand and followed me into the room. When I opened the door, I didn’t see anything, or anyone other than my nanny. She was pale, her mouth was open, but her eyes were closed. She was now at peace. It was then that I knelt beside her and took her cold hand in mine. “I love you,” I whispered.
Eventually, my knees began to ache, so I sat on the bed at her side, my eyes filling with tears.
Soon enough, I felt someone lean on the bed, so I looked up to see aunty Joan was there with a bowl in one hand, a fork in the other, and was shoveling spaghetti Bolognese into her mouth. I glared up at her.
“What! I haven’t eaten all day,” she exclaimed as she took another bite.
It was enough to make me laugh. I’d never heard of a person leaning over a dead body, eating a bowl of spaghetti before. When my laughter subsided, and a few moments passed, I heard my grandfather call my name. When I glanced over, he told me to come and sit by his side, so I reluctantly moved away from Nan and took the seat beside him. “What’s up, granddad?”
He just held up the newspaper he was reading and pointed to an advertisement. “Look, the funeral home has a great special on. For only one thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars, you get a basic casket and cremation. It’s a great deal, isn’t it?” He looked excited. He has never been able to pass up a good bargain.
Shaking my head, I told him, "Granddad, you know Nan didn’t want to be cremated.”
He continued to scroll over the adverts. “It’s not for her. It’s for me.” He then looked at my aunt who was still shoveling spaghetti in her mouth while staring at my dead grandmother. I just shook my head and laughed, fuck I love that side of my family. I then gazed over toward Haim, who’d taken my seat on the bed next to my grandmother, and I knew he was trying his hardest not to chuckle.
“Joan,” he called, and she turned to face him. She hadn’t been listening, so I didn't know how she would respond. “I need you to take me to this funeral director.” He then turned the newspaper around and showed her the company’s name.
“Mum already arranged her funeral with that other place,” she said, taking another mouthful of food.
My grandfather grunted. “I know, I was there. I want you to take me to this place,” he pointed to the advert. “So I can arrange mine before the cremation special is over.”
That’s all it took for me and Haim to begin flat out, belly smack laughing. “What’s so funny?” Granddad asked us.
“Are you serious? Most families would be here crying, but instead, you’re looking for a discount cremation, and Joan is eating over
Nan’s dead body.” I pointed in her direction, but she was back to looking at Nan. “How does that not make you laugh?” I asked as I shook my head.
Granddad thought for a moment, and then a grin took over his features. “Okay, you got me. I guess it would be funny if I were to sit back and listen to us.” He moved his focus back to my aunt. “Well? Can you take me or not?”
I also looked back to my aunt, and she r
olled her eyes at him. “Fine, but not until after we meet with the funeral directors who will be handling Mum’s funeral. Deal?” she asked.
He nodded his head. “Deal.” I watched as his eyes lit up, followed by a smile.
“Granddad, what are you thinking?” I asked cautiously. He was up to something.
He turned to me and wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ll go into the funeral home tomorrow for your Nan, but I’ll take this ad with me,” he shook the paper in his hands, “and I’ll use it to haggle a better deal out of them.”
He was going to haggle for a cremation. That’s it. I knew I could die knowing there was absolutely nothing I'd missed out on in my life on earth. I'd seen it all. I was officially related to a bunch of crazies, but I wouldn’t change them for the world.
Throughout the evening, my dad and I somehow end up sitting on the stools at the bar. We’re both pounding back the bourbon, desperate to numb the overwhelming feelings that are running through our hearts. “So then, I guess you can’t fuck your liver with shots when you’re already the walking dead,” I joke.
He takes another shot. “That’s it, love.” He winks at me. “I’m going to make the next fourteen months count." He laughs, and I laugh with him.
What the fuck else am I going to do? “If that’s the case, then consider me at your disposal for the next year and a bit. What do you think you would like to do? What’s on your bucket list?” Whatever it is, I will be right by his side, no matter what.
He shrugs his shoulders. “I thought we could go overseas for the next few months, or, at least, until I feel it’s time to come home.”
I nod in agreement. “That sounds awesome. Where do you want to go?”
He lifts his finger at the bartender to indicate that we need another round. The bartender nods and makes his way over to us and pours two more shots. “Thanks, mate,” Dad tells him. He nods and goes back to serving others. “I’d like to go and see Cairo, then maybe spend a few months in Ireland with the family. I don’t want to have an itinerary either. We can just come and go as we please. What do you think?” he asks as he picks up another shot.
The Beginning Page 6