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“You’re going to be okay, Dad,” I choke out as the paramedics roll the gurney out of the room. “You’re going to be okay.”
I wish I believed it.
* * *
I wait with bated breath in the cold, sterile waiting room, the ticking of the clock on the wall seeming to reverberate in my ears with each passing second, tormenting me. Every moment feels like an interminable stretch of time as I sit here, consumed by my thoughts of worry and guilt.
Finally, the door creaks open, and the doctor steps out, her expression unreadable as she approaches me. I clench and unclench my fists as I wait for the diagnosis, my anxiety reaching new heights. How the fuck did I let this happen after losing almost all of my family in one fell swoop? How could I be so damned careless?
“Your father is stable,” the doctor begins, sparking a flicker of hope within me. But the glimmer of relief is fleeting, as the doctor continues, “but unfortunately, he is suffering heart failure.”
My world, and even my breathing, stops as I hear the words, and I can’t shake the feeling of culpability for my father’s condition.No, no, no!I think frantically, swallowing hard.
I know our argument was the cause of his heart attack, and I’m seized with regret for not maintaining my composure and letting my emotions get the best of me. A wave of guilt crashes over me, threatening to submerge me. The doctor continues to speak, but her words fade into the background as I struggle to come to terms with the gravity of the situation. My father’s health and, possibly, his life are at risk, and I am the cause of it all.
“It’s not a death sentence by any means,” the doctor assures me. “But only if he is very careful with his health from here on out. Your father has lived a high stress life his entire adulthood, and the recent loss of his family has made him very fragile. You must be careful with him from now on, and make sure he is following the care plan we give up word for word.”
As the doctor lists off the precautions my father needs to take, my mind is consumed with thoughts of what I could have done differently. I replay the argument in my head, scrutinizing every detail for any signs that could have alerted me to the impending danger. But as the minutes tick by, my thoughts shift from guilt to determination. The past cannot be altered, but I can control the future. I make a vow to do everything within my power to help Dad recover and live a healthy, stress-free life. He might hate me for it, but I refuse to give up on him. He’s all I have left, and I know I will be haunted by the relief I saw on his face when we thought he may actually die. I don’t care if Dad is ready to go—I’m still here, and he’s not going to leave me if I have anything to do with it.
When the doctor finishes speaking, I take a deep breath and straighten my posture. The weight of my remorse still lingers, but it is now accompanied by a sense of purpose as I take the thick stack of papers explaining my father’s diagnosis and lifestyle changes I will have to assist with. I’ll read this damned packet a million times over if I have to.
Once the doctor leaves, I make my way to my dad’s room, and there he lies, still asleep. The color has returned to his face, and his breathing is even, not labored, and seeing him alive brings me so much relief that it’s dizzying. I get another chance to do this right, thank God.
I pull up a chair and sit next to his bed, taking his hand in mine, feeling the weight of the situation, the reality of how serious it is.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” I say in a whisper, tears welling up in my eyes before I blink them swiftly away. He’d probably be horrified to see me near to crying. “I didn't mean to cause you this much stress. I should have been more understanding of your concerns and not let my emotions get the best of me.”
I can feel my father’s hand twitch in mine, and I hold it tighter, hoping that he can hear me and understand the depth of my regret. Everything is like a hurricane inside me–I still don’t want to give Julia up, but if my love for her and the repercussions of it does this to my father…? How can I possibly still pursue it?
I sit here for a long time—with the way everything seems to flow together, it may have been minutes or hours, I can’t be sure–watching over my father and making sure he's comfortable. The reality of what's happened weighs heavily on me, pressing down my shoulders and spine, and I feel like I've let him down. In fact, I know that I have. He told me in no uncertain terms how much I’ve disappointed him. I vow to make things right and be a better son from this point forward, but figuring out how to do that without giving up the woman I am sure is the one true love of my life seems impossible…
Sometime later, the hospital room remains silent except for the rhythmic beeps of the machines monitoring my father’s vitals. My neck aches from the hard hospital chair, and my eyes are heavy from lack of sleep. I feel a sense of unease settle deep within me, knowing that my dad’s health hangs in the balance. I just wish he would wake up so I could tell him what I’m feeling in person.
Suddenly, I hear footsteps approaching, and in turning my attention towards the door, I see Karl waking in the room, his usual bright smile fading when he sees the tense atmosphere. His eyes widen with concern as he takes in the scene before him.
“Gosh, what happened?” he asks, his voice low and serious. “All I heard was that your father was in the hospital, but I just thought it was for something minor…”
I huff a sad laugh. “No, Karl, the complete opposite of minor actually.” I recount the events of the past few hours, telling him how I argued with Dad and how it led to his heart attack. Karl listens attentively, his expression softening as I speak.
“That’s terrible,” he says, his tone sympathetic. “How is your dad doing now?”
I shake my head, unsure. “I don't know. The doctors won’t tell me anything until they run more tests.” My stomach rolls at the thought of more bad news, and I press a fist against it to stop the ache.
Karl walks across the white room and places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Seb. We’ll figure this out together.” His words offer me some solace, but I know that the situation is far from okay. Some might consider it odd that Karl is here, offering me support, but it seems that Dad’s constant reminders to treat Karl like family have paid off. Having him here is a relief, and a small comfort, as well. At least I’m not here alone, and Karl, more than most, knows the struggles and heartache Dad and I have been facing.
He asks me a few questions, and despite wanting to keep quiet about it, all roads lead back to Julia. I hesitate before telling him everything–all about our whirlwind romance, meeting at the ball, and her mother’s staunch, cruel disapproval. I explain Margaret’s presence in my dad’s study today and how it was the catalyst for our argument. I’m not sure how he’ll react, but I need someone to confide in. Karl listens patiently as I explain my relationship with Julia and how it's the root cause of my conflict with my dad.
“I understand why your dad would be concerned about your career, but he can’t control who you love.” Karl takes a seat in the chair next to me, his voice filled with empathy.
I nod. “I know. But it's not just about Julia. It’s about the fact that he’s always trying to control me and make decisions for me without considering my feelings. I’ve felt for years now that his primary concern is work, but after losing my mother and siblings, I was sure that he’d be able to see how important love and family is. But for whatever reason–-a lot to do with Margaret, I’m sure–-he simply doesn’t want me to see Julia. During our argument, I pushed him towards accepting the situation, and–” Emotion closes my throat, and all I can do is wave at my dad laying there on the hospital bed.
Karl hums in thought, giving me a blessed moment to swallow past the lump in my throat and regain my ability to speak. “I can see why you’re feeling conflicted,” Karl muses after a minute or so. “It’s not an easy situation, but you have to stand up for what you believe in and fight for your happiness. There has to be some sort of middle ground that you both can agree on without causing another incident like this.”
“Dad told me, multiple times today, that he was disappointed in me,” I manage to choke out, feeling like there is ice where my heart should be. “He’s never said that to me before, Karl. Never.”
For the first time, I see a flush of annoyance come over Karl’s face as he looks at my still-unconscious father. “That’s…fuck, Seb, that’s harsh. I can’t believe he would say that to his only remaining child. After all you’ve done, taking up the leadership at the company and everything…”
“It’s like I said…work always comes first. Even now, it seems.”
