Page 23 of Until Forever

It doesn’t surprise me that he’s in this position. What did he expect? To live a lengthy and considerably miserable life as long as he gets to keep pumping toxins into his body? Even with all the hate I have in my heart for this man, I find myself growing beyond that and wanting to help him.

I wet my lips and pull my shoulders back. “What do I need to do?”

Relief flashes in the doctor’s eyes. “We’ll need blood work to confirm you’re a match, and then we’ll schedule your donor surgery. Do you drink alcohol, Mr. Vanek?” Dr. Brandshaw removes a pin from his breast pocket and proceeds to take notes.

“Occasionally.” With my legs wide, I cross my arms again.

He nods. “And when was the last time you had a drink?”

“Two nights ago, I had two beers,” I admit.

“All right. We can draw your blood today to determine if you’re a match. If you are, you’ll need to refrain from drinking for two to three days before we can perform the donor surgery.”

“And if I’m not a match?”

He presses his lips together, then clutches my father’s chart to his chest. “Then we’ll need to wait six months, and if he can remain sober, he’ll be added to the transplant list then. For now, we’ll continue to monitor the periodic confusion he’s having and work to get the infection under control. After which, he will be discharged to wait at home until he’s met the requirement.”

“Let’s hope I’m a match then.” I smirk nervously.

“I’ll have his nurse come in to draw your blood, and then we’ll go from there.”

“Sounds good, thank you, Doc.” I offer him a firm handshake then drop my arms at my sides.

As if on cue, my dad seems to come alive once the doctor is nowhere in sight. He grunts in my direction. “What the hell you doing here?” He coughs.

I sigh and face him, seeing now what the doctor meant about the periodic confusion. “Just finished talking to your doctor,” I admit.

“You should mind your damn business.”

I smirk to myself, finding it funny they believe him to be delirious. He sounds pretty damn close to the asshole who raised me. Instead of reacting to his rant, I choose the path of maturity, when I have half a mind to be done with all of this shit.

“The nurse will be in to take my blood,” I inform.

“What for?” He rolls around until he’s comfortable.

“To see if I’m a match. You need a liver transplant.”

He groans. “I don’t need your help,” he spits while breaking out into a coughing fit.

I huff and turn to gather my phone from the chair behind me. “Trust me, you’re the last person I want to help, but then, that’ll make me no better than you. And I’m way past this toxic shit,” I snap and snatch his empty water basin from the table.

I don’t stick around for a retort. Anything he’ll say will only anger me. I meant what I said. He’s the last person I care about. But if I’m able to save his life, I’ll do it. Not because I expect some grand change from him. I’m no fool and fully expect him to remain the same old bastard he’s always been. But like I said, I’m better than him and have worked hard to prove him and the people of this godforsaken town wrong.

So if donating a piece of my liver keeps him alive, then I’ve done my good deed to society. He’ll never appreciate it, but at least I tried—he is my dad after all.

I exit his room, the atmosphere immediately changing. Where it was once semi-quiet, the common space is loud and vivacious. People move about, everyone in a rush for one reason or another.

When the pathway is clear, I hang a right toward the water fountain at the end of the hall. As I fill the light-pink container, I think about the last few days and how crazy they were. I knew I might see Latoya, but I prepared myself to be disappointed. It was wishful thinking that she’d still live here.

While we planned our life together, she’s always had dreams of leaving this Podunk town. So seeing her was a small shock for me, a good one. Being around her and in the same room as my father, who hasn’t changed a bit, I can appreciate the growth in me. Eight years ago, I would have acted out wherever my father was concerned. But today, I take deep breaths and tell myself that everything is fine.

I close the flap on the water pitcher and head back toward his room, stopping for a second to allow a doctor to breeze past me. When the path is clear, I move forward with my focus on the lines on the tiled floor. The laughter of a child steals my attention, but I don’t immediately see anyone. The closer I get to the nurses’ station, which is across from where my father is resting, the louder the little chuckle grows.

Without thinking, a smile creeps on my face, and soon, I see the curly top of a boy’s head. He’s looking away, so I don’t have a clear view of him but hear him speak.

“Nurse Crystal?” he calls out.

“Yes, JJ?” the woman I recognize from the other day asks.

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