Chapter Forty Six
Ellie ran to my side of the room. “Your father?”
I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest, remembering the night he had left. “No.”
The nurse stared at me, unsure of what to do. Eventually, she looked back down the hall. “I’m sorry, but he doesn’t wish to see you at the moment.” Another deep, muffled voice came from the hall, and the nurse nodded and turned back to me. “He won’t have time to come back ‘till tomorrow. Are you sure you don’t want him to come in?”
I looked at Ellie, who gave me a questioning look. After sighing reluctantly, I said with hesitance, “Fine . . . go ahead. But I won’t talk to him.”
The nurse frowned at me and gestured with her hand out in the hall. She smiled warmly when a man, barely able to squeeze through the doorway, entered the room. He wore a sharp business suite in a dark navy blue – a black tie hidden underneath his coat. Tinted sunglasses were held on to his button nose. As if the thought had just occurred to him, he hastily took them off and stuffed them in is coat pocket, revealing his light gray eyes. His short hair was pointed upwards in the front, its jet black surface shining under the lights. He smiled warily. “Hi.”
I looked down.
Ellie looked at me quizzically and stared back at my father. “I’m Ellie,” she held up her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
My father smiled at her. “Nice to meet you too.”
He walked up to the side of my bed, making sure to keep his distance; I tried to make it as obvious as possible I didn’t want to see him when I knit my brows and looked in the opposite direction.
“How’s your leg doing?”
I shrugged and shook my head.
He looked awkwardly around the room, lightly tapping his foot with his leather boot. To be honest, he looked like the type of person who would be hitting it up in a bar, hooking up with drunken girls, rather than a business man or a father for that matter. He wasn’t a day over forty, and I had known long before that he was five years younger than my mom. “You’re mom’s doing well.”
At that bit of news, I turned my head and looked him straight in the eyes. “How is she?” I muttered.
He pointed out the doorway. “She’s not too far from here, actually. She’s just sleeping,” he tried to reassure me. “Oh, I forgot. I got you something.” He reached into the opposite coat pocket that was holding his glasses, pulling out a case holding an Xbox game. It was remarkable that he had been able to fit it in his pocket in the first place. He smiled and handed it to me. “You’re mom once told me about you and your Xbox.”
I glanced up at him. “You talked to my mom after the divorce?” I emphasized the last word, reminding him that he had deliberately walked out on his family like they no longer existed. Little did I know that he actually talked with my mom. I mean, he would send me Christmas and birthday cards, but other than that, I hadn’t talked to him since that traumatizing night ages ago.
He seemed to flinch when I said this, looking down with a soft expression. “I found her on Facebook, actually. We friended each other. I know it’s odd, but we decided to try to form a new friendship, so that you could see me again. I was meaning to talk to you, but your mom refused.”
“Yeah, she probably knew how pissed I was at you.” I knit my brows and looked down at the game he had bought me. “And I still am.”
Ellie stood up from my bed and quietly walked back to her side of the room, obviously beginning to feel awkward.
My father looked up at me with surprise. “I know . . .” he admitted. “I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am.”
“So,” I said with a sarcastic smile, “you happy with your new life now? You got a new wife? Kids? Or, let me guess, you walked out on them too?”
He looked up at me with a hardened expression. “What happened between me and your mom had nothing to do with you.” He pointed his finger at me and took a step forward. The nurse hesitated at the door, keeping a close eye on me. “Even though I don’t love your mom, doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” He blinked and softened his face once again. “I’m sorry,” he said, stepping backwards.
“Why are you here?”
My father coughed. “Well,” he shook his head, “you’re mom’s not doing . . . all that well, son.”
I froze. “First off, don’t call me ‘son’. And what do you mean? You said she was sleeping . . . and that she was fine . . .”
He shook his head again. “Yeah, she’s asleep. And she is fine. But that doesn’t mean that she’s up and talking.” He sighed and wiped his face with his hand. “She’s never going to be able to be taken off of life support.”
“What?” My voice was shaking. “How come?”
“I don’t know . . . the doctor’s said something about brain damage.”
I remembered Dr. Richmond explaining how ‘the brain can’t function without blood flow’.
“Well . . . when I first heard about the accident, and your mother’s condition, also knowing that you had no official godfather, I immediately went to court to obtain full custody. After the trial, the judge decided that it was best for me to take care of you, since all you’re relatives either live outside of the country, or, like Uncle James, are in prison. The fact that I also live in New York also helped.”
“I would rather end up like my mother than live with you,” I spat.
He looked down, shaking his head as if he had expected that response. “You won’t have to change schools . . . and I live in a nice five-bedroom condo. I also have two cats, and they really love people.”
“How the hell do you make so much money?! To live in a condo in New York City?”
“I’m the CEO of a cereal manufacturing company, but you probably don’t really care . . .” He looked up at me with a sincere face. “I really do love you, Darrel. Hopefully I will be able to prove that.” He put a gently hand on my shoulder, and though my body told me to push him away, my bandaged head told me to listen. “I really am sorry . . .” His voice trailed off, and when I looked up I was surprised to see tears begin to form in his eyes. However, he continued to stare at me.
Though I was still mad at him for what I had done, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit sorry for him; he had nothing, and here he came with open arms, ready to take care of me. He genuinely regretted walking out on my life, only to never be heard of for little less than a decade. Not only that, he was desperately seeking my forgiveness. Even though I wouldn’t ever forgive him for what he did, we could maybe, just maybe, start over with a clean slate.
He was my father, after all.
“I don’t forgive you,” I said, pushing off his hand. “To be honest, I don’t think I ever will.” I sighed. “But you’re my father, and I guess I can’t really change that.”
He looked at me hopefully and gave me a smile. “I’m afraid so.”
