Read Drowning in You for Free Online Page B

his bed hooked up to him as I sink into
the nearby chair. By the time on the wall clock, it seems no one
will be in to check on Dad or do any tests for a while. This
comfort of being alone by my dad creates this itch inside me, a
pressure that’s fighting to keep my feelings down. More loved ones
have come by while I was out because the bedside table and wall
bench have been restocked with flowers that brighten the color and
aura of this room. It smells a little less hospital-ish today.
    Dad says, “Oh, Charlee, you
came,” sometime between me being deep in thought and later, head
sunken in my palms.
    “ Dad!” I say,
wiping down my face with my sleeve even though the tears have
crusted up.
    When Dad takes in what must be
my red and blotchy face, he stops saying whatever he was going to
say, and reaches out. I scoot my chair in and plonk my chin in his
hand. He caresses my chin, which might sound weird, but it’s so
easy. Just easy. I sigh, releasing weight from my shoulders.
    “ Oh, hon,” he
says, and his voice sounds as though it’s being rubbed in
gravel.
    “ I’m just a
sook. Don’t worry,” I say. “Really.”
    “ Maybe it’s
time we talk?”
    “ I really,
really know I look like I’m falling apart, but it’s fine. Just a
hard day.”
    He lets go of me and it’s worse
like this—Dad not comforting me because I realize how old and
responsible I should be, and how I realize I’m not like this at
all. I’m a Daddy’s girl and I was always so embarrassed to say that
until now. It occurs to me that I might not be able to say that for
too much longer.
    “ Do you want
to talk about me?”
    “ Naw, how
about I get you a chocolate bar from downstairs? I know they’re
double or triple the price than they are at the supermarket but we
so need one. I think I’ll get one,” I say, making up my
mind.
    I’m out of his room in a flash,
fumbling for money. I have zero change when I reach the counter so
I have to grab a pack of gummy candies too, and some sour straps
just to make the bank-card limit. This makes me feel like a kid
again. I’d kill to be Darcy’s age. I just—I want to be ten again
rather than twenty and not have to act like I’m in control and—oh,
how I hate that “R” word—responsible. I’m so useless.
    I begin shaking while waiting
for the elevator. A girl with nasal tubes, a balding head and
see-through skin rides with me. When I leave, she smiles and tells
me everything will work out. I just nod, unable to say a word.
    “ Weeks to
months.”
    That’s what Dad says as I drop
my handful of goodies on the table by his bed.
    My mouth is parched when I
swallow so I must look like a fish on dry land. “Anyway,” I point
to the spoils I’ve just set down. “Which would you like? Oh, wait,
we can share the gummy candy. The sour straps are a bit too much
for you.”
    “ No, hon,
Charlee, baby.” He tries to clear his throat but begins a violent
cough. I don’t know how his body is in one piece because that cough
is a knife slashing through his insides, heaving him into painful
fits. He wipes his mouth with a tissue when he’s done, and my hands
are ripping at the bag of gummy candies while he does this. It
won’t open until finally it does and they rain down on the floor of
Dad’s hospital room. I crouch down, before Dad can say anything or
before I can see what color the tissue is.
    “ Oh, my God.
Dad, I’m so—”
    “ Get up,
please.”
    I look up and he has tears in
his eyes. This makes me wobble on my haunches. I take a breath,
which feels like nothing at all, and push my body up by the railing
on his bed. I lower the railings, sit on the edge and lean on to
him.
    “ Weeks to
months is how long they think I have, Charlee. If I get the
transplants I need soon enough, I might be right for decades to
come but it’s all about timing and my health. Oh, God—” and Dad is
coughing, spluttering.
    “ Why are
you…” telling me this? Tears choke off my voice. My mouth