A Heart in New York (Klaine AU)

Lima Kurt

Part 11: Lima Kurt

I hadn't meant to break that vending machine. I just wanted something to snack on. I kindly pressed its buttons and when it refused to give me those Snickers that I had paid for, I gave it a kick. Yes, I admit, I may have kicked a little hard, but in my defence, I was angry, because the universe obviously didn't like my father, frustrated, because I had no idea when or if he would ever get better, and hungry, because it was three PM and I hadn't eaten since that morning.
They wouldn't listen when I said there was already a huge crack in the thing before I kicked it. They wouldn't listen when I explained that I was a broke student. They wouldn't listen when I tried to tell them I was stressed out because my father was in the hospital again, after already surviving a previous heart attack and cancer. They said that I still had to pay for the stupid, broken vending machine.
At least they still gave me that Snickers bar in the end.

I could tell my dad thought all of it was just hilarious when I told him about it afterwards. When he saw I clearly didn't think it was funny, he told me to lighten up and promised not to laugh anymore. He could not even get through that sentence with a straight face, and started laughing again, barely two seconds after he had said it.

I was annoyed, but secretly I was bursting with joy over the fact that he was laughing again. "Anyway," I said, "what did the doctor say? Will you have to stay here much longer?" It had been ten days since the surgery. For ten days I had been wearing old clothes that I hadn't even touched since my senior year in high school, two years ago. It felt very strange.

"He is doing fine!" Carole chimed in with an immense smile on her face. "We're waiting for one more test result. If it's good, he gets to come home." She said and took my father's hand.

"Really?" I was surprised. "Dad, that's amazing!" I called out and hugged him tightly.

"Yes, and you get to go back to your big city." He smiled.

"Oh, are you sure?" I asked. "Don't get me wrong, I love New York and I hate these clothes, but-"

"Kurt," he interrupted me. "I will be fine, you need to get back to school, you have already missed out on too much, besides, we will see you again during the holidays, right?." He said, cheerfully. "Don't worry about me." He said when he saw I was not convinced.

"That is an impossible task, dad, of course I'll worry about you." I took his free hand.

"I'm in perfectly capable hands." He said and looked at his wife.

"Yes, but-"

"Kurt, there is only a tiny, tiny chance that this will ever happen again! One in a million!" He proclaimed.

"There was only a tiny, tiny chance that it would happen at all." I reminded him.

"You, stop throwing my arguments out the window." He said and squeezed my hand. "You have a life in New York that you need to get back to. I will drag you onto a plane myself if I have to, and you know that would be bad for my heart."

I smiled. "Of course you would."

My father's doctor entered the room shortly after that. He said he had good news and continued to read the report aloud, then, he summarized it in a way that we could understand it and congratulated my dad. He could go home.

We drove home together, Carole and I cooked a delicious, heart-friendly meal and we ate together, as a family. Afterwards, we planned to watch a few football games my dad had missed during his stay in the hospital. We were only halfway through the first game, before I stopped paying attention and started making a mental list of the things I needed to do back in New York. Thinking about it reminded me that I should probably call my friends and tell them the good news. Before I got up, I briefly put my hand on the empty seat next to mine and smiled.