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“What happened? Is Dad—”
“We brought Dad in,” George told me, calmly.
George was good at remaining calm. Me, on the other hand—my insides froze.
I sat up, needing to do something, rush somewhere. Except there was nowhere to go. Nothing I could do to help.
“He didn’t feel like getting out of bed this morning. Then this morning turned to this afternoon and this evening. He was having a lot of trouble breathing. We just thought it was better to be safe.”
“How’s he doing?” Decca asked.
George and Bethany exchanged a look. She shook her head, silently telling him not to tell me something. I already knew it was bad. Dad had Acute Myeloid Leukemia with one of the subtypes with the worst prognoses, so of course it wasn’t going to be good.
But there was still enough time. I had faith.
We all did.
“The doctors gave him a water pill and something in his IV to help his heart, but apparently, the medication used to treat his leukemia is known to cause heart failure,” George sank onto the bed, unbuttoning his suit jacket. Must have just come from a service. He looked tired. His dark under eye circles were even darker than usual. Even Bethany looked exhausted. Living in the coach house apartment, adjacent to the mortuary, George and Bethany were dealing with the brunt of Dad’s illness while keeping the mortuary thriving.
It was clear they needed help.Ineeded to help more. I could do… something.
Heart failure.The words were so final. So black and white. I’d seen them listed as cause of death so frequently in my brief stint as a funeral director, hearing them now was surreal. “So that’s what this is?” I asked. “Dad’s in heart failure?”
Decca clasped Bethany’s and Sofia’s hands as they listened.
George crossed his legs and clasped his hands. He sighed, looking up at Bethany, who made a disapproving face and bit her nail.
“When I went up to check on him after the graveside service this afternoon, he looked…” He shook his head, staring at his hands. “He looked howtheylook. When we pick someone up from the hospital. The edema… I thought…“ He shook his head. “But he’s pulling through. He’s doing great. Really. Joking with the doctors, watching the little TV too loud.” George smiled his big brother smile. The one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Damn. He was still doing that after all these years. Reassuring his kid brother that everything would be okay. Even when he knew it wouldn’t be.
“Jesus, George.Fuck.You should have called me earlier.“ I put my hand on his shoulder. “Seeing him like that…”
“It didn’t feel great,” he admitted. “I wasn’t expecting this complication.”
“Okay, so what do we do? We move on to the next treatment. Right?”
George exhaled a long, slow breath before looking at me. “I think he wants to stop, Gus.”
“N-No.” I shook my head. “No. We’re not going there. There are plenty of options available. He’s in his sixties. He’s still a young man. I just read about this clinical trial at the National Cancer Institute. Something with liposome-encapsulated something or other. Let’s get him in. You talk to him. Or… no, have Soula do it. He listens to her. We’re not giving up.”
Four sets of eyes bored into me likeIwas being the ridiculous one.
Dad had gone through the worst battle with cancer this past year. He hadn’t been able to catch a break. It was caught late. Had already metastasized. He never seemed to get any relief from his symptoms, even after two rounds of chemo.
On paper, it looked bad. Anyone with half a brain could see that.
But this was Dad. He couldn’t give up. He had grandbabies. Sofia, Athena, another one on the way. There was too much love in his life for him to throw it all away that easily.
Fuck.
This must be what it felt like to be one of those red and white bobbers on a fishing line. Half in the water and half out. Never quite seeing the light of the sun before getting plunged back under themurky depths of a lake. Getting dragged to the bottom when a fish took the bait, then rushing screaming up to the surface when an invisible force reeled you in.
Damn Decca for picking up that stupid fishing magazine. Damn this hospital for only offering fishing magazines in their ER waiting room. Damn me for being in this hospital, and damn Dad for getting sick.
“What’s going on with you? You going to be able to play tomorrow with that hand?” George asked. Bethany elbowed him hard in the side.
“Ow. Sweetheart, we’re finally playing a team that’s almost as bad as us. We might have a chance to win.”
