Page 27 of Loving A Vampire Is Total Chaos

Will he remember me? Will he be docile? How long can I stay this time?

Guilt gnaws on my stomach that I can only manage to come once a month. Not because I don’t have the time, but because it’s so painful for me I just can’t make myself do it more than once every four weeks. The facility isn’t exactly close—nearly two hours from Chicago with traffic so that serves as a deterrent as well.

“You caught him on a good day, sweetie.” She rubs my shoulder in reassurance, and I instantly relax, letting out a sigh of relief.

“I know you deal with it every day, but it never gets easier, does it?” My forced smile hurts my cheeks and I zero in on the familiar door at the end of the hall as we inch nearer.

“Unfortunately, not. Being a nurse and helping patients is one thing but having to see family and friends visit someone who’s a shell of their former self is heartbreaking. The good days are some of the happiest, but the bad days stick with you. I don’t regret working in this profession, but you need to have tough skin.”

Glancing at the older woman’s face, wrinkles from years of laughter and hard times line her skin. Sharon has helped my dad ever since he was first admitted to Avery Corr Living. A stoutly woman with a bob of brown hair, sunspots around her face and kind brown eyes, her optimism and support have always been appreciated. When you’re in a place like this it’s hard not to expect the worst every time you walk in but having staff like her truly keeps hope in peoples’ hearts.

I hesitate to ask my next question since I know the answer, but I have to. “Has my mom stopped by?”

With a sad shake of her head Sharon confirms my suspicions.

Mom never stops by. I hate that even now I hold a tiny flicker of hope that someday the guilt will be too much and she’ll visit.

“Sometimes all I can do is hate her.” Our steps slow as the door draws ever closer, but I halt my steps. This conversation isn’t one to be had in front of my father. “The way she abandoned him … who could do that to their spouse?”

Sharon stays quiet and simply listens. She’s amazing at that.

“But then there are times I hate myself because I understand in a way. It’s tough. Look at me, I can only manage one visit a month.” I give a humorless laugh. Toeing the light green carpet with my boot, I gaze at nothing. “But at the end of the day, my dad can’t help his situation and being here for him is what’s right.”

“You’re a wonderful daughter. I hope you know that. When he’s coherent he always mentions you.” She tucks a strand of flyaway hair from my ponytail behind my ear and smiles at me with a motherly grin. It’s more than my mother has done in the past fifteen years. “Let’s go see him.”

I nod and reach for the long silver handle when we walk up to the gray door. Soft music can be heard when I open it, and I turn the corner to find my dad sitting in his favorite chair. He turns at the noise and for a second I hold my breath.

“Celine!” A huge grin splits his mouth, and I nearly collapse on the spot. His good days are rare, and I didn’t know how badly I needed one until he says my name.

“Hi, Daddy.” My voice is barely a whisper, and I can’t hold myself back any longer. Rushing toward him I give the biggest hug I can muster. His arms come around me, now frailer than ever before, but the strength and love in them can’t be mistaken.

“What’s going on? Something wrong at school?”

My shoulders tense at his question because this is one of the worst parts. He remembers things but not always correctly. Yes, he remembers me, but his memory right now is from a past self when I was still in high school. It’s best to meet him where he’s at so I go along with it.

“No, nothing like that. Classes are great just happy to see you.” I mask the pain in my voice with false cheeriness.

“Hopefully Mrs. Masters isn’t giving you too much trouble?” His bristly eyebrows draw together, and I laugh.

“She’s just mad I get an A on every assignment and call her out on her bullshit grading.”

Untangling our arms I sit on the couch beside his armchair and wave to Sharon as she sees herself out.

“Language, young lady.” My dad always was a stickler for proper etiquette.

I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees, chin in hand and simply observe this man that’s half of me. He turns his attention back to the television that’s playing over on the entertainment stand, content with the silence. If I ask too many questions, it can set him off and I want to enjoy his good mood for as long as possible.

The wear of his illness is evident. Wrinkles bring his eyebrows lower into his once shining brown eyes that are so much like mine. His dark hair has lightened significantly from stress and is unkempt around his face. He dons a simple baseball tee and grey sweatpants, a blanket covering part of his lap.

My physical features reflect his, instead of my mother who had blonde hair and blue eyes. I’m grateful once he’s at peace and no longer on this Earth I’ll be able to look at myself in the mirror and see a reminder of him.

We continue to sit in mostly silence for the next hour and I soak in my time with him.

He’s slowly becoming less verbal and struggles for words much more now than before. I try to help when I can, but I can tell it frustrates him. We share simple commentary on the game, and he asks a few questions related to school. I don’t correct him and follow along.

In my relaxed state I jolt when he suddenly stands up and shouts. Frantically running around the room he slams open cabinets, throws open doors, looks under cushions and I follow behind the whole time.

“What’s wrong?!” My heart races and I inch toward the front door help button.

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