Second Chances

Seven

On this side is Hugo Mayhew as Jonah Turow & Douglas Booth as Dylan Ross

The sound of gagging and hesitant inhaling of breath wakes me up from my slumber. I peel open my eyes but the bright sunlight casting through my window sends my mind into twirls of dizziness. I softly let a groan escape my lips before sliding out of bed. What time is it?

I walk past my parent's bedroom, in PJ shorts and a baggy sweatshirt. I note that my mother is the only one snuggled up against the sheets, ease settled across her elegant features. For a moment, I stand there in silence and admire how peaceful she seems to be. Then another loud gagging sound fills my ears.

I turn the corner, peeking into the bathroom. I am greeted with the sight of my father hunched over the toilet, liquid flowing out of his mouth. He flings his hand around, blindly searching for the toilet paper roll.

"Dad?" I clear my throat, attempting to erase the of the tone of grogginess. My eyes droop tiredly, "Are you okay?" I know it's a stupid thing to ask because it's clear he's not but what else are you supposed to say?

He throws up some more in response. I take a step forward and rub his back. I'm not sure what you should do when it comes to conformance so instead, I stick what he used to do to me when I was in his place. 

"Water, kid, I need wa-" he said while clenching the edge of the toilet bowl.

Without saying a word, I hastily rush down the stairs and into the kitchen. I pull a glass from the cupboard, as the water fills the glass, the pounding in my head increases more. I lean against the counter, suddenly tired from the fast movement. I glance at the clock on the stove, 7:38 am. I sigh, so much for sleeping in eh?

I skip the stairs by two and skid into the bathroom. My dad is leaning his back against the wall opposite the toilet bowl, all color flushed from his face. His hand reaches up stiffly for the glass and I thrust it into his grip.

 I watch him take small and quick sips of water and notice that he is bundled in sweat pants, a sweater, socks, slippers, and his bathrobe. 

"Aren't you sweating in that?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.

"I'm actually freezing kiddo," he said between sips. I nod, crossing my arms. 

He grabs the side of the bathtub and heaves himself up onto his feet. He limps to the sink, taking his toothbrush. As he brushes his teeth, my heart starts to ache and I feel like a hole is being punctured into the pit of my stomach. He puts away the toothpaste and grabs a bottle of medication behind the mirror. I shudder.

I haven't exactly seen or paid much attention to my father taking his medication. I always thought it was normal like it was a part of the routine to getting better. But as he tips the pills into his mouth, I realize that the only purpose his pills serve is to help keep him alive. A frown creases into my features and I wrap my arms around my dad in a hug.

"Hey," he says softly, caught off guard from the sudden gesture. The ache in my heart increases when I hear how fragile his voice seems to be when it used to be booming. He guides his arms around me in return, assuring me into safety. I dig my head into his chest. In my grip, I feel like I can feel every bone and muscle in his body.

"I love you so much, Dad," I say, my voice muffled against his sweater. With my ear pressed against his heart, I count each beat, for some reason as the numbers increase, the hole in my stomach eases. 

"I love you too Alexandria Rose," he says in response and presses his chin into my shoulder.

We rock in each other's grasp for a moment longer, before I pull away.