Blackmailing The Untouched

The Big "C"

I don't make it over to Dad's for a few more days, and when I pull up to the house, I see his patrol car on the side of the road. Glancing at the clock on the radio, I see that it's one thirty—Dad hasn't been home on a lunch break for over two years, so what makes today any different?

I park my jeep in the driveway and take a calming breath before making my way to the front door My heart races as soon as I place my hand on the golden lever and turn it.

Dad is sitting on the sofa when the door opens and I walk inside. He looks pale, his cheeks appearing saggy. His eyes are sullen and there's a slight wheeze when he breathes. He's wearing his dress blues again, this time without a tie.

"Dad," I whisper as I close the door and stand there, unable to think of what to say to initiate the conversation that I know we must have.

He shuffles his feet and tries to maintain eye contact. "Maybe you should sit, Sweetie." His voice is weaker since the last time I heard him talk.

Watching him carefully. I can see that he's sick.

How did I not see it before?

No, he wasn’t this sick. I would have noticed. I would have.

"No, I think I'll stand." I shake my head and cross my arms.

"I know you answered the phone call I received from the hospital." He takes a slow, steady breath before finally saying.

I don't say anything. I go mute.

"I also know that you've done some internet searches." He continues, his voice breaking off when he goes into a heavy coughing fit. I stand there and worry as he struggles to find his breath, but when he does, I relax a little. "I also know that you've spoken to Toby."

Still, I say nothing. If he wants to come clean about it all, then I'm not going to interrupt him. I'll just try to hold it all together.

"I'm just going to tell you everything." He says, adjusting himself on the sofa, struggling to find a comfortable position.

I feel my chest constrict, but I don't let my fear show. I have to be strong for this, I have to keep myself calm for him.

He glances down at himself for a beat before his light brown eyes are looking my way, his lips straight. After a slight hesitation, he finally says, "I have stage four Testicular Cancer."

Once the words are out into the open, I feel the weight of the situation pummeling me into the ground. I feel like I'm about to fall to the floor, my world spinning, control slowly slipping through my fingers. My heart hammers violently against my ribcage. My ears ring. My eyes burn from the tears that I desperately try to keep from falling down my face.

But it's no use. I'm not strong enough to remain strong for him, and Dad watches as I collapse to the floor, hugging myself as tight as I can squeeze, vicious sounds exploding from my mouth, my face burning with wet and hot tears.

I can't stop crying.

"Hollie, I'm so sorry." He drops to his knees to console me, even though I know it must be uncomfortable for him. He pulls me even tighter against his chest, and my heart hurts more when he fights to take a deep breath.

The Cancer is taking him from me. He's not as strong as he usually is. He's not fearless as I've known him to be my whole life anymore because when I look into his eyes I can see that he's terrified of what comes next. He's scared of leaving me all alone on this earth.

He's scared of leaving me like Mom left us Ten years ago.

"How long do we have?" I force the question out through the hiccups I've developed.