Page 20 of Of Blood and Smoke

Della

After talking with my dad’s doctors and Melinda once I got home, I knew the prognosis wasn’t good. There was no way dad could come home and get the level of care he now required. My heart ached, thinking of how I wished I could solve everything and knowing I was powerless to do so. My dad and I were very close, and he’d always done the best he could for me. I wanted to repay the favor—it was my turn.

As intimidating as my job interview was, I needed that job.

I’d done my best to put my past behind me. Ashley only knew bits and pieces; I’d never told her the extent of what had happened to me. She thought I’d only experimented with drugs and had no idea I went through around six months of hell. Six months and one week, to be exact, and just enough to end up with a criminal history after getting arrested a couple times. I’d never had the money to get my history erased and with it being so long ago, I’d thought it didn’t matter anymore.

Ashley had no idea Brett was helping pay for my father’s care or that he’d been the one to introduce me to drugs. Brett was a small-time drug dealer and a big-time asshole when it came to holding my past over my head.

I’d met him at a party in college and we bonded over our mutual love of eighties music and French fries after getting in a playful argument over which food stand down in Asbury Park, New Jersey had the best crispy potatoes.

We began hanging out nearly every day and then the tan, tall, and handsome man convinced me in a moment of weakness to try a painkiller pill when I’d had a raging headache that regular meds didn’t touch.

My mother had recently left us, disappearing one day out of the blue, while my father’s health declined. My status as a student was up in the air, our finances depleted due to medical bills, and my whole life in disarray. All of that, coupled with copious amounts of alcohol, and my downward spiral into pills and substances took root. I’d been beyond stressed out and very vulnerable.

The behavior was completely unlike me, but as I said, I was weak and drained. Brett continued to supply me with pills, and once in a while, powder. Then he started charging me for the chemical assistance.

When I couldn’t afford it anymore, he began keeping a tab and implied very subtly that if I was his girlfriend, I’d get my fixes for free. The tab turned into me sleeping with him fairly regularly to keep him from coming to collect. It wasn’t like there was no attraction between us or we didn’t enjoy each other’s company. I would’ve slept with him anyway.

To keep power and control over me, he’d been paying for half of my father’s visiting nurse bills.

The position I was in was a strange one because I knew how his manipulation was wrong, but he never did anything overtly bad to me and we were friends. He was sociable, funny, entertaining, got along with the few companions I had, and could even be described as kind. Even my dad liked him—and my dad had no idea I’d struggled with addiction. If he found out,it’d break his heart and surely kill him, and he didn’t need the added burden of that knowledge.

While I’d lied to the interview team earlier today about totally forgetting my drug habit, I hadn’t lied about just stopping and not looking back. That period of my life was an after-thought I didn’t focus on or even think of most days. I truly hadn’t remembered it when I filled out the application, it was that far behind me.

For whatever reason, I’d been able to quit without intervention and if I had to guess, I’d chalk it up to the devasting effects the whole ordeal would’ve had on my father. That was motivation enough.

I called Ashley again. “Hey, so it's not good with my dad. He needs to be in a facility.”

“Oh no, I’m so sorry. That’s what you thought would happen though, right?”

My closet door creaked loudly when I opened it. “I kinda knew. Didn’t want to, but I did. I’m trying to see what clothes I have if I get hired.” I shoved a bunch of hangers to the side and began flicking through.

“I have some stuff you can borrow if you need it. I don’t know about pants because you’re smaller than me but definitely shirts for sure,” she reassured me.

“I just might take you up on that. You still at work?” If I remembered correctly, she had a shorter shift at the call center today.

“I am. It's been slow. I leave for my interview in a little bit.”

Moving a handful of decent shirts to the front of my closet I said, “I better get this job because I have to call out tomorrow for my second interview. Let me know how it goes, don’t forget.”

There was a buzzing sound in the background. “I won’t. I gotta go, talk to you later,” Ashley said, hanging up to answer an incoming call.

Shutting my closet door, I checked the time. My dad had been at the hospital for several hours now. I messaged Melinda letting her know I was on my way.

Trudgingback into my building's parking lot after getting off the bus, I let my sadness wash over me. My father wouldn’t be coming home anytime soon. It was warm outside, but a chill covered my skin thinking of his upcoming extended absence.

The hospital would be keeping him for a while, and I would be on my own. This time would be used to make sure I got the job at Ipomoea; there was no way I’d let myself fail my next interview.

Clouds blotted out the sun and a nice, cool breeze ruffled the leaves on the scant few trees in the area—three, to be exact. They bordered a basketball court where some people were playing, the orange ball shooting through torn net before hitting the ground with a rubber echo bouncing off the concrete. I felt like the projectile I watched, just bouncing around and hoping my safety net would be repaired in the form of a high paying job.

Sirens sounded in the distance, and I punched in my code at the door before stomping up the stairs to my apartment. Tossing my keys onto the wall-mounted holder, I seated myself at the table. My dad should’ve been here boiling a hotdog or pouring liquid cheese over some broccoli and telling me to go “play with your friends.” I was an adult, but I was still very dependent on him, on his company and just knowing he was here.

He’d been in the hospital many a time before, but this time was different. He very likely wouldn’t come back if he needed a higher level of care. Seeing him near lifeless in his hospital bed, pale and wan, surrounded by machines and wires and knowingthere was no reversing it hurt my soul. He had no idea I’d even been there.

The facility’s gift shop had a decent assortment of cards, so I’d bought one and left if for him on his bedside table. He was in a vegetive state, but I still had hope he’d recover and get to see the card and know I was thinking of him.

I spent the rest of the day reading a romance novel, eating potato chips, and trying to not obsess over my father.

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