the only exception // mc

7

The doctors hit the nail right on the head with their estimation and my father died thirteen days later in his hospital room. I spent those thirteen days by his side, listening to every story he had to tell me. I wanted to soak it all in. I never wanted to forget the way his voice sounded, even as raspy and broken down as it was in the last little while. I did my best not to be sad the entire time. I didn't want him to feel bad for what was happening. When it was his time, I wanted him to go peacefully. And I think he did.

It was three in the morning when the machines started beeping, telling us his heart had stopped. At first, I'd wanted to run around in a mad panic, screaming for nurses to come and try to bring him back, but then I remembered that he'd signed a DNR. He was going, and there was nothing to do about it.

The last thing we'd talked about before he'd fallen asleep that night had been my mother. I'd avoided the topic like the plague, but finally, he'd gotten serious.

"I need to talk to you about something, Rosalie." He'd said, changing the position of his bed so he was sitting up slightly. I nodded, waiting for him to continue. "You need to know that through it all, I loved her. Even after she left me, I loved her so much it consumed me. I loved her until the bitter end. Hell, I still love her. We just didn't get along."

"But if you loved each other, wouldn't you stay together?" I asked. Wasn't that what love was supposed to be? Forever and always? My father chuckled.

"Not always, kiddo. When you love someone, you do what makes them happy. Your mother and I loved each other, but the fighting didn't make us happy, and it definitely didn't make you happy, so we ended it so everyone could be a little bit happier. I think that means we loved each other a lot; we sacrificed being together so we could be happy."

"Why haven't you ever told me this before?" I asked. My father smiled sadly.

"Because you never wanted to hear it. You were convinced that love was a work of fiction and you wouldn't accept anything else. But I needed to let you know that love is real, Rosalie." He stopped for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Speaking was hard for him, but he was no good at being quiet. "Love, it's a real thing and I hope you find it."

I sat as still as a statue for two hours after my father stopped breathing. They took him out of the room and said their condolences to me and for all I knew, they stood outside the room waiting for me to leave. Two hours went by, but time moved so slowly. I was worried that that was how the rest of my life would be, in slow motion. A dull ache radiated throughout my body, but I knew that once I moved out of the initial state of shock, the pain would overwhelm me. I knew that I had never experienced something like this. Nothing would ever compare to the pain of losing my dad, my best friend.

Finally, I walked out of the room my father had died in and straight towards the staircase. I walked down three flights of stairs, into the main lobby, and then right out of the hospital. I walked until I had reached my car. I climbed in and smashed my hands against the dashboard. I started screaming and I did not stop until I felt like my lungs were about to collapse.

I had no one. Not a single soul on the earth. I was all alone, dealing with the hardest thing I'd ever faced. All I wanted was to call Michael, even though I knew he wouldn't answer the phone. He hadn't answered the phone in more than three months. For all I knew, he'd lost my number and was happier without me.

I did it anyways. I dialled his number, the only number I had dialled in weeks.

As expected, he didn't answer. His mailbox wasn't full though, so I left him a message.

"It's five thirty four in the morning and my father just died." My voice cracked. I was going to cry but I didn't care. I was fucking tired of trying to remain emotionless around others. "I called you because I don't have anyone else, but I guess I don't really have you either. You left me and now he left me too, and I'm back to being all alone." I was crying hard now, my speech garbled by my tears. "I'm sorry Michael. Please come back to me. I need someone right now." His answering machine beeped, telling me I was out of time.