Page 60 of Shame

He doesn’t answer.

His voicemail picks up, but instead of leaving a message, I send him a text.

I can’t get mad he didn’t answer. It’s early, and he’s probably busy. He has a life, and we didn’t have plans.

Me: Just wanted to talk. Call me when you can.

I pull out a skillet to start browning the ground beef. Irene makes these delicious, elaborate meals, but honestly, I’d love nothing more than a bowl of spaghetti and a hunk of garlic bread today, so that’s what I’m going to do.

When dinner is done, I fix a plate for Dad, which consists of me grounding up his food and adding some broth, so it doesn’t dry out. He’s been on this diet for about six months because some days he forgets how to eat and doesn’t chew well enough. This makes it easier for him. I’m not sure if he’ll wake up to eat, so I leave his plate in the microwave, then make my own and take it and a glass of wine to the living room. I find a movie to watch and eat my dinner. Honestly, the quiet is nice. Being alone is nice. I rarely get this. Usually I’m too tired to do anything. I come home after work and once Dad is settled, I get right into bed and sleep. The only times I stayed awake late was when Kaison visited.

But sitting here now, relaxing, watching TV, enjoying my dinner… I need more nights like this. Nights for just me, when I do things for myself.

I’m almost finished with my food when I hear footsteps in the hall. I glance that way and see Dad walking out.

“Hey, Dad,” I say as cheerily as I normally do. When he does remember who I am, it makes him smile.

He walks out of the shadows of the hallway, into the light of the living room. I jump to my feet, spilling food all over, when I see him clutching his chest, his face pinched into pain.

“It hurts,” he says, falling into the wall and accidentally swiping some photos to the floor.

The panic that hits me is like nothing I have ever felt in my entire life. But thank whoever is looking out for me that my body choosesnotto freeze at this moment.

I hurry to his side, but not before he falls to his knees, then fully to the floor. I roll him to his back, looking all over for an injury.

“What hurts? What’s wrong?” I frantically shout.

He claws at his chest with both hands, grunting.

Phone! I need my phone!

I find it on the coffee table and with shaking fingers I dial 911, giving them every bit of information they ask for and doing exactly what they tell me to. I’ve had to call them for my father before and they always take forever to get here. Tonight won’t be any different. The only problem is, I’m not sure he has somuch time.

The soft, rhythmic beeping of the machines grates on my nerves, yet it relaxes me at the same time. The beeping tells me my father is alive. I was sure I was going to lose him today.

When the EMTs put him on the stretcher, he wasn’t moving. That’s all I remember. Everything before that is a blur. I remember him walking down the hall, then nothing. I don’t remember calling Irene, but I must have because she was here a short time ago to check on us. The ambulance ride? Don’t recall that either.

All I can picture in my mind is the way he looked on that stretcher. Over and over, like a slide show of the same picture. I thought he was dead. And even though I see his chest moving now, the fact he’s unmoving otherwise has those same thoughts going through my head.

There is a knock on the door and a doctor walks in. He’s young with a kind smile. I don’t recognize him.

“You must be Cora.” He offers his hand. I take it numbly. “I’m Dr. Norwood. Your father suffered from a heart attack, as you know. The only thing we can gather is that it was due to the stress from the procedure today. There was an issue with his heart rate dropping because of the anesthesia, is that correct?”

I nod, the lump forming in my throat making it hard to breathe.

“Well, your father is a fighter. Everything with him seems just as well as it’s going to be.”

“When can we go home?” I ask.

“I’d like to keep him for observations for the night, just to be safe. But if all is well in the morning, he can go home then.” He looks past me, at the chair I was sitting in. “I’ll have the nurse bring you in something more comfortable.”

“Thank you,” I say, trying to smile, but it doesn’t really come out.

I go back to the chair and plop down, taking Dad’s hand while looking at my phone. I really want to call Kaison. I’d love a hug from him right now. Maybe all night. But if today taught me anything, it’s that I don’t have much time left with my father, meaning I don’t have time for anything else.

Chapter Nineteen

Kaison

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