The Devil Wears Stilettos

Twenty-Two

[B]

"I'm sorry... can you, can you repeat that?" I asked. The doctor gave me an apologetic look.

"Unfortunately, your father will no longer be able to withstand the liver transplant surgery. At this point in time, there isn't much than can be done. We have to shift our focus to making him as comfortable as possible." She said. What she said was entering my mind, but not registering.

"I don't understand. I'm here, I can do the surgery right now. I'm here!" I said.

"I know, Beyoncé. He won't be able to undergo it, though. His body can't take it." She explained. I shook my head.

"We were just talking... nobody told me he... I'm here? I'm ready?" I strained. I put my hand in my forehead, feeling my eyes well up. "He's dying?" I asked softly.

"With no better way to put it, yes. I'm very sorry." She said.

"Oh my god," I mumbled.

"Is there someone you'd like us to call for you?" She asked.

"I guess you can, um..." I paused, trying to get myself together. "I would say to call... his wife." I said. She nodded.

"You can let one of the nurses know if you need something. We'll do our best to take care of it." She said. I nodded, going back to the chair in my dad's room.

"Dad?" I whispered. I sighed, seeing no movement. "Dad," I said a little louder. Nothing. He was asleep. Honestly, I only knew he was still alive because of the movement of his chest and the beeping of the machines.

I dialed Jay, who picked up on the second ring.

"Yo, how's everything?" He asked. I sniffed, holding the bridge of my nose.

"Can you come inside for a bit? I'll meet you in the waiting room?" I asked.

"'Course, on my way."

I walked to the hospital's waiting room, sitting down as I looked for Jay. I saw him round the corner and got up, walking towards him with my arms open. As soon as I reached him, I held onto him tightly.

I found myself crying into his chest. I hated how upset I was over this. My dad was such an asshole to me, but he was still my dad.

I was thinking about all the good times we had together before the drinking started. I kept thinking about 'what ifs'. Like, what if I came earlier instead of putting it off. Maybe this scare would've snapped him back, and I could work towards having my dad again.

I don't know, it might've been stupid. But, I was such a daddy's girl before everything went downhill. I missed him. So much.

"Woah, what's goin' on?" Jay said, moving us to the couch in the waiting room.

"I was too late," I cried.

"Oh Bey," he mumbled.

"He's not gone yet, but I missed the window of time. He shifted early this morning. Had I came literally yesterday, or two days ago... I could've helped." I sobbed.

"Nobody could've known that. Don't beat yourself up about this, this isn't your fault." He said. I shook my head.

"If I didn't put it off-"

"Bey, I really don't want to see you torn up over this. You didn't do this. Don't blame yourself." He cut me off. I coughed, letting out shaky breathe as I cried.

"This fucking sucks!" I complained. Jay kissed my head, squeezing my arm before rubbing it.

"I know, I'm sorry." He said.