Page 96 of Anti Player

“I was nervous when I met him too,” Henry says. “But what do you have to lose? You’re either going to get closure or not.”

“After what happened to Kaleb with his mom. . .” I don’t even have words. When Kaleb told me what happened, I just wanted to hold him and tell him how amazing he is and how she has no influence over the kind of man he is today. Instead, I told him she doesn’t deserve his goodness and that was true too.

“Dad came to us,” Brett reminds. “It’s him who wanted to make amends.”

“Right.” I nod.

We enter the facility and Brett speaks to a woman at the front desk and says we are there to see Andrew Noble.

She tells us to wait a minute and then a nurse comes to guide us through the facility. It’s very sterile and hospital-like but there are patients walking around freely.

We arrive to a room. “We have him in the hospital section because of the care he needs,” she explains.

We arrive at the door. I pause and look up at each of my brothers.

“Do you want us to come with you?” Brett asks.

I mean, I do. But I know this is something I need to do on my own since they’ve already spoken with him.

“I’m okay. I’ll go in.” I give Brett’s arm a squeeze and then look at Henry, who blinks and nods.

I inhale but I don’t feel like I’m getting nearly enough air in my lungs.

I open the door and the man in the bed is unrecognizable to me. His hair, which was once dark and on the longer side for a man, is short and gray. His skin looks weathered and his cheeks hollow.

“Hi, Dad,” I say, feeling my knees wobble.

“Madison,” he says on an exhale. “Look at you, all grown-up and beautiful.”

I take a few more steps into the room.

“Take a seat.” He motions to the chair beside his bed, and I awkwardly sit, feeling like my body is rigid. My back is ramrod straight. “Thanks for coming. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t.”

I nod, feeling at a loss of words.

“I know I failed you and your brothers, Madison. I started with drinking and the pills way too young and I just didn’t know how to stop. There were times I had myself under control and by that, I mean I was a functioning alcoholic and then things would spiral. When they spiraled, I left,” he shares.

“Where did you go?” I ask him.

“Usually to Detroit. I had some friends there, people like me. We’d fly off the handle together,” he explains.

“Were there other women? Do you have other kids?” I can’t help but ask because when I was younger, I came up with all kinds of stories in my head of where he would go. In one of those scenarios, he had a wife and kids he simply loved more than us.

“I’m embarrassed to say there were other women.” He winces and really his words sting for my mom, who always took him back. “I don’t know of other kids.”

I nod.

“It’s a sickness, Madison. I’m a sick man with a bad problem. I wanted to get myself under control, but I never could,” he confesses.

“Why now?” I ask.

“I’m dying and after living my life like a big asshole, I have no one,” he admits.

“So now you come to us because you’re out of options,” I say angrily.

“You have every right to be angry. Trust me, I’m angry with myself. You don’t know how many nights I went to sleep hugging a bottle, wishing it was your mother. Wishing I could be a healthy man, a healthy father. I’m a weak son of a bitch and nowthat I’m dying, my head is clearer. I can’t drink or pop pills and all I’m left with is the horrible pain I’ve caused my family.”

Tears begin to fall down my cheeks.

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