Right Uppercut

Chapter 13

I walked down the familiar bright hallway into the sterile, white room my dad had been staying in for the past few weeks. “Hey, dad,” I called out, walking into the room.

His head turned to me lazily and a smile slowly spread across his face. “Hey, hun! I didn’t know you were coming today!”

I felt a pang of guilt hit me. Ever since he had been admitted into the hospital because his cancer spread so severely, I didn’t visit him much. It wasn’t that I didn’t care; it just killed me to see him so sick and helpless. He wasn’t the dad I knew before my mom died. He wasn’t the man who I started to take care of after she died. I didn’t recognize him, and it was more than just the tremendous amount of weight he lost. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. At home, his eyes barely left the television when I was around.

Maybe I remind him too much of my mom, and that’s something I can’t change even if I wanted to. Each passing day made me wonder how much time I had left, something I didn’t think I would ever worry about at 16.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here much,” I smiled, sitting in the floral hospital chair for visitors. “I’ve just been… busy.”

Wow, could I sound like more of an asshole?

He patted his lap twice. If he still had his strength, his arm would’ve reached over to my lap as he tapped my leg reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere. And you’ve got a life to live!”

“Not much of a life, really,” I settled into the chair and crossed my leg. “Just work, school, homework, the usual boring routine.”

“Well, you’ve got Mitch. He’s keeps things interesting,” he smiled before beginning to cough repeatedly. I sat up, concerned and wondering if I should call a nurse. Yeah, I’m the paranoid family member who wants a nurse to check on every move my father makes.

When he finally settled back to his normal breathing, I held up the small Styrofoam cup of water to his mouth for him to sip it from a straw.

He sighed. “Thanks.” He shifted in the bed, making himself comfortable amongst the tubes connecting him to machines and medications I couldn’t pronounce. “Speaking of Mitch… I was thinking of something the other day.”

“What’s that?”

He looked towards the silent television, showing some shitty soap opera with the volume muted. He must be waiting for the weather or something, or else he’s just really bored. “When is he ever going to ask you out?”

Luckily, I didn’t have a drink because I probably would’ve snorted it or started choking and soon enough, nurses would be rushing to my safety. Instead, my mouth just fell open as I tried to form words. I didn’t want to speak for Mitch when he hadn’t even come out to his parents, it wouldn’t be fair for me to tell my dad, who might assume everyone but him knew. Which is the complete opposite.

“Mitch…” I began, clearing my throat. “Mitch and I are just friends, and that’s all we will ever be, I assure you.”

He looked a bit disappointed. “Oh, he’s a nice boy. I would give him permission.”

“Permission to what? Court me?” I laughed. “Newsflash, Dad, this isn’t the 50’s.”

“A respectable man always asks the father for permission for everything,” he shook his finger at me. “You let Mitch know that.”

Even as absurd as this conversation was, I began to blush. Anytime I talked about anything remotely romantic in my life, or lack thereof, I got embarrassed, especially around my father.