Where the Waves Whisper

Chapter Forty-Eight

My eyes flutter open and I immediately close them when the bright sun nearly blinds me. I groan into my pillow. My head is pounding – like someone is drilling into my brain with a jackhammer. I think I'm going to throw up. My mouth is unbelievably dry and it tastes horrible. I'd kill for a glass of water right now. Even though I know I slept through the night, I'm exhausted, and when I peel myself off my pillow and sit up, I grow lightheaded, and the room begins to spin.

It should be illegal for a day where I feel like absolute dog shit to be so sunny and bright.

I'm alone, but the sheet and comforter are pulled back and the pillow next to mine is messed up, and dented in the center, like someone has been laying on it, and I vaguely remember seeing Delaney in bed next to me in the middle of the night. Either that or I was dreaming, because why would she in bed with me after the way I treated her yesterday. If I were her, I wouldn't be within five feet of this house. Within five feet of me.

I don't remember much from last night, or even yesterday. I drank heavy, and I started early, so my memory is more than fuzzy. I remember there was bourbon, and a lot of it. There was yelling, mostly from me. And did I...did I cry at one point? My right fist is stained with dry blood – the cuts I got from my fight with Will reopened after barely just healing – and I wince when I stretch my fingers, opening and closing my hand. I didn't get in a fight, or hit anyone last night, at least I don't think I did, so what the fuck happened to my hand?

Of all the things I don't remember from yesterday, I can't forget the one thing I wish I could – the moment my parents sat Cole and I down and told us my father's cancer is not only back, but has spread all over his body, and in three to six months he'll be dead. Dead – buried deep in the ground in a cemetery somewhere – and I'll never see him, or hug him, or talk sports with him ever again. We'll never have another round of catch. Hercules will lose one of his favorite people, and I won't be able to explain to him what happened. He won't be at my wedding, and we won't share a glass of Glenlivet scotch before the ceremony starts. He's not going to watch Cole's children grow up, and he'll never meet mine. He'll just be gone, and we'll all go on with our lives – without him.

I remember the fear that coursed through my body when my father said those four words – "The cancer is back." It was like an electrical charge, surging through my veins and nearly setting my skin on fire. I stood from my chair – letting it fall noisily to the floor – before he finished telling us what the doctors said. I couldn't bear to hear the diagnosis. I already knew what he was going to say.

Terminal.

I remember Delaney forcing herself into my house, demanding I talk to her after stupidly breaking up with her, when I really should have just been honest. Why did I push Delaney of all people away when she's who I wanted by my side – needed – when I finally sat down and let my father explain what was going on, and what would inevitably happen in the upcoming months. She's been nothing but supportive since the moment she found out my father was sick. Always asking how he's doing and how he's feeling. Indulging him with the things she knows he likes – like the newspaper so he can do the crossword every morning, or some of the coconut cream chocolates he likes from South Grove Candy Shoppe – and she checks in with my mother daily, asking if there is anything she can do to lighten her workload – like drive my father to his appointments or pick up any groceries she may need.