Page 70 of The Dramatic Life of Jonah Penrose
“He’s got fluid in his lungs. Pneumonia does that.”
“I feel like I’ve failed him.”
“No,” she said sternly. “No, Jonah Penrose. You’ve failed no one.”
Jonah sucked in a shaky breath. “I’ve failed you. I should have been here.”
“Jonah.” His mum sighed. “Your father and I, we watched you grow up here, we saw you develop passions we could never have imagined you would get into. And we saw how talented you were, no,are, and we wouldn’t ever dream of holding you back. Things have been pretty bloody shit here recently, but that’s not because you’ve been in London.”
“But you’ve not been okay.”
“You’re right, I haven’t,” she admitted. “I’ll hold my hands up and say I’ve been an absolute mess since your father got ill. But no one gives you a handbook and says this is exactly how you should act when your husband no longer remembers who you are.” She stopped for a moment. “Actually, they gave me some pamphlets.” She smiled and shook her head. “But a piece of paper doesn’t hold all the answers. And neither does a bottle of wine.”
Jonah sat back in his chair, letting go of his dad’s hand now that his mum was awake and keeping up the contact. “I never thought this would happen,” Jonah said. “I never thought about losing him. It just didn’t seem like a possibility.”
“No one likes to think about their parents no longer being about. I remember when your Nanna Rose passed away, I felt like someone took away my lungs, like I couldn’t possibly go on without my mum living down the road. But, I did. I kept breathing, because I had you and your dad and people surrounding me who held my hand and let me remember her in different ways.”
“You mean the rosebush you planted then killed?”
She let out a loud laugh, then clapped her hand over her mouth as his dad stirred. “Oh, shut it, you,” she whispered. “Nanna Rose would have appreciated me trying. It wasn’t my fault that bloody bush was intent on dying.”
“Roses?” his dad mumbled, slowly opening his eyes, blinking up at the lights above him. “Someone plant a rose?”
“No, Mum killed the rosebush,” Jonah said, leaning forward to take his hand again.
His dad turned his head slightly to look at him, and for a few secondsno expression settled on his face, before he finally smiled and squeezed his hand. “Oh, hello, boyo.”
“Jonah came all the way from London to see you,” Jonah’s mum said, smiling as she looked at her husband fondly. “We had to tell him, what with you coming into hospital.”
“That’s a long way,” his dad said solemnly, his voice hoarse. “I’m only being dramatic. No need for you to come up.”
Jonah shook his head, his nose scrunching slightly as he tried not to cry. “It’s fine, I got a ride because I’m so famous these days.”
“Are you, now?”
“Oh, yeah, totally.” Jonah laughed.
“A handsome man drove him here, Bill,” his mum cooed, and Jonah could tell she was trying to lighten the atmosphere, because she, too, could hear how exhausted he sounded.
“A handsome man! What’s his name then?”
“Dexter.”
His dad’s lips drooped as he considered the name. “Huh. Does he like maths?”
“Oh, I don’t think so, not particularly. Why?”
“Dexter sounds like someone who enjoys an equation.”
Jonah let out a snort and shook his head. “No. Well, not this Dexter, anyway.”
“Is he your boyfriend?” his dad asked, something hopeful in his eyes, and Jonah couldn’t say no. He couldn’t say that, actually, they broke up several hours ago because they were both insecure idiots who couldn’t separate past hurt from their present relationship. So Jonah nodded instead.
“Yeah.”
“Good...” His dad hummed and licked his lips, though they remained dry. “My son, he needs to settle down, maybe you can talk to him and tell him to get his finger out his arse and find a nice man.”
“Bill, what are you—” his mum started, but Jonah shook his head gently, and she stopped.
