Page 110 of Becoming Us
Then my sister.
They all said the same thing. That time was slipping away. That I’d regret it if I didn’t go in and pretend my dad could still hear me. Pretend it mattered.
On that nameless October day, I stood behind the glass doors. Ilana had left with my mom for coffee, and it was one of those rare lulls when the nurses weren’t around. Just the steady beeping of monitors and the soft, mechanical whoosh of the ventilator every few seconds.
It wasn’t a decision. More like my body took over. I moved forward into the room.
The smell was worse in here.
Sterile and sharp—chemicals clinging to fabric and flesh.
Ever since I could remember, my dad had worn that old-man cologne every single day—and a healthy dose of it too. Sometimes it drove me crazy.
Right now, there wasn’t a trace of it.
He was here, but he wasn’t.
I stepped up beside him, to his right. He looked puffy. Swollen. His mustache had grown out a little. My eyes fell to the pale strip of skin on his ring finger where his wedding band used to be.
“You lied to me,” I said to the room. Maybe to him. “Wasn’t the rule no lying?”
His hand blurred.
I blinked hard, trying to bring it back into focus. “What else did you lie about?”
My lip trembled. I bit down on it, trying to stop it.
“Was it me?”
Tears fell—quiet, involuntary.
One by one.
Pitter-patteron the stiff white sheets. On his unmoving hand.
“I can’t say goodbye to you. It’s not fair. Why the fuck are you doing this?”
I rubbed my hand across my face, fingers shaking. Tried to pull the edges of myself together. Even if it wasn’t working. Even if everything was splitting apart.
Just a little longer.
Just a little fucking longer.
I traced one of his fingers with mine. I hesitated for a second before grasping his hand. It was warm, but he didn’t clasp back. The cracks grew bigger and bigger.
“Please don’t die,” I whispered. “You can’t leave me. Please don’t die.”
The tears kept falling.
Pitter-patter.
And thewhooshof the ventilator.
Please let this be a nightmare.
“I can’t do this alone. I can’t take care of everything. Don’t leave me alone with her. I won’t make it.” I closed my eyes tightly, rubbing my hand hard over my face again.
“Who’s going to fight with me over Phil? Who’s going to make those god-awful cold sandwiches, huh?” My voice cracked.
