Page 57 of Speeding Hearts

“Did he say anything… specific?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No, dear. But perhaps if you stuck around, you might tell him what he wants to hear. Plus, it would be lovely if you were here when he does wake up. Unless you have somewhere to be.”

I had lots of places I could be if I were staying. And one place I desperately wanted to be but had driven away from this morning.

“I’ll be here,” I said.

For a long time after the nurse left, I stood by the window, staring at the frail man who, at one time, had been larger than life. When I’d been here, in a bed just like this one, I had thought he never visited. But I had the fuzziest memory of him now, standing by the window like this, or the doorway.

He’d been scared to come close, I realized.

He’d been afraid of what he felt, just like me. He’d let his feelings get the better of him.

I strode over and sat down in the chair next to his bed, letting out a long breath of air.

“Dad?” I knew he was out of it, but it felt like I needed to check before launching into conversation, even with a sleeping man.

“You were trying to move the mugs again, weren’t you?” I’d have laughed if it was funny. I leaned back in the chair, my hands up over my face.

“They were in the wrong place,” came a gravelly voice.

I dropped my hands, surprise shooting through me.

Dad’s eyes were open in puffy slits. “You always put them in the wrong place.”

I did laugh then, long and hard. So long my sides ached. When I finally calmed myself down, I found Dad staring at me.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” he asked.

All humor left me. He was never going to change. This stubborn old man was always going to be a grump, unable to find any dregs of good feeling in a situation.

“Everything,” I said. “I don’t know.” I leaned over, resting my elbows on my knees. “I’m going to go away again Dad, as soon as you’re feeling better.”

“Go away now, I don’t care.”

Even now my shoulders fell, rejection hitting me like something solid in my chest. “You don’t care at all, huh?” I said, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “Did you ever care about anything? About me?”

He was silent.

“I’ll find you a nurse,” I said. “I’ll pay for it somehow. But I can’t keep taking care of you when you don’t give a shit about me.”

“Who said that?”

“You just did.”

“I didn’t.”

Jesus, we were going to fight right here in the hospital. “I don’t have time for this,” I said.

“You’re just like your mother.”

“Oh, yeah? How’s that?”

“Always caring about goddamned feelings.”

My jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me? I’ve tried my whole damn life tonotfeel. You taught me that.”

“And look where it goddamned got me!” he exclaimed, then broke down into a coughing fit.

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