When the elevator chimed and the doors opened on my father's floor, I jumped out, anxious to get away from my reflection, and headed straight for his door. I knocked quickly, my nerves making my body tremble. When I heard his faint voice say, “Come in,” my anxiety melted away.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and entered. Dressed in his white t-shirt and green flannel pajama bottoms, he sat at his usual spot at the kitchen table, dominoes scattered about as if he was in the middle of a game. He looked at me from over his glasses and smiled, his blue eyes wide with surprise. “You're here so late, kiddo. I tried calling…”
“I know, Dad. I—” The words died on my tongue. I couldn't tell him the truth, could I? “I got caught up... at work.” It was my normal excuse, one he understood.
“Ah, well, it's okay. Kim was here in the morning, and the neighbor's niece stopped in for a bit. Gave me some of the cookies she made.”
I was about to ask if they were sugar free when he cut me off.
“I treated myself,” he said. “And they were good.”
I sighed heavily, but even still, I couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips. Two things would never change—my father's stubbornness and his love of all things sweet. At least I could count on those constants in my life. Especially when so much was going south.
He slid over his bag which contained all his testing strips and blood sugar monitor, his fingers not working well to hold on to such small things. “Can you help me out here?” he asked, and I realized I was still hovering near the door.
But the moment I stepped into the small apartment, I froze. A single bedroom, a couch, T.V., and a boxy kitchen—it was perfect for one person to live in, but not so good for someone whose senses were heightened.
I rubbed my throbbing temples, mentally trying to sort out all the input assaulting my senses. I needed to make this quick or my dad was going to catch on.
“You okay, honey?” he asked.
“Nothing to worry about. Just a long day,” I said, eyeing his shaky hands as I walked over and sat across from him at his tiny breakfast table. “Did you check your sugar before eating those cookies?” It was a rhetorical question. Even though diabetes had impacted his quality of life and now he was on dialysis, he could never give up sweets completely. Cheating was fine once in a while, as long as he checked his sugar like he was supposed to. But my dad was stubborn to the core.
His brow creased. He hated it when I reminded him he couldn’t just eat whatever he wanted when he wanted. “It was just two cookies, Loren. I’ll be fine.”
“I guess we’ll find out.” As I helped him with the strips and the machine, I added, “Dad, there’s something I need to tell you.” I swallowed hard, unsure how to proceed. I’d made it to Queens so fast, I hadn’t had a chance to rehearse what it was I wanted to tell him. How I would break it to him that I would need to get out of town for a few days—at least I hoped it was just a few days—and that I wouldn’t be able to check in on him.
When I didn't finish my thought right away, he pressed, “Hmm?”
“I... I'm going to a convention,” I lied, keeping my eyes focused on what I was doing. If I looked him in the eye, there was no way I'd be able to keep a straight face. He'd see through my fib right away, just like he did when I was a kid. “I'm speaking on a panel there and…”
“You'll be gone for a bit?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I replied, pressing the button on the monitor and waiting for the beep. “But I'll tell the aid to come by more often to help you, and I'll let the neighbor know.”
He laughed. “Loren, it's just a few days. I'll be fine.”
Holding the needle to his fingertip, I released the trigger. The instant the metallic smell of the blood reached my nose, time seemed to stop. I flipped his finger over to see the crimson droplet swell on his skin, and my mouth slacked.
Holding tightly to his hand, I fought the onslaught of feelings warring in my chest. The need to tell my dad the truth and knowing there was no way I could. Then there was the utter sadness clawing at my heart. Losing my career, I could handle. I’d get over that at some point. But losing my dad? Not being able to care for him when I was all he had. That part of me was being shorn to pieces. Nic might have saved me from that beast and healed the awful wounds, but he left me with something worse.
As I stared at my dad’s hand and I felt the beast inside me growl with hunger at the droplet of blood on his finger, I realized Nic saved me from a beast only to turn me into one.
“Loren, honey… your grip. You’re hurting my hand.”
“Shit!” I immediately released his hand and jumped out of my seat, knocking the chair over. Unable to meet his gaze, I walked away from him, hiding myself in the shadows of his small apartment. “Dad…I’m so sorry.”
“What is going on?” he demanded. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
With my back to him, I said, “I don’t know how long I will be gone, but I promise I will call you as soon as I—”
“Where are you really going, Loren? And don’t give me that conference bullshit. If you’re in some type of trouble, you know you can trust me.”
“I can’t tell you that. It’s for your own safety.”
“Fuck that. Turn around, young lady. I’m too old for this shit. You better tell me the truth.”
“I gotta go.”