Page 4 of Bad Like Me

3

Ray

I hated this day,but I think that I hated myself even more. Despite how fast I dropped my life and moved back to Ohio, it wasn’t enough. Mom let me know dad was bad, but she hadn’t been exactly forthcoming with all of the information. She told me it was cancer, but not that the doctors had basically said it was inoperable. The fucking disease had spread its poison throughout his entire body and had taken over most of it. Maybe he could have tried radiation, but we learned that would have been meaningless for him at that point. It was only an option for someone it the earlier stages of the illness, not at the end, which was where he was.

Dad’s body was tired and riddled with something modern medicine had yet to find a miracle cure for. The thing about cancer was, once its necrosis began, there was typically no stopping it. For him, there wasn’t an option to take a pill for seven to ten days to heal him—a luxury too many of us have when we go to see the doctor and tell them that we feel like we were dying. My dad actually was dying. He was too far gone to be saved.

I’d been here for a little over a week, and he didn’t recognize me during the majority of the days spent with him. He had moments of clarity, though. Those were the times I would cherish and cling to on the hard days. The days when I wanted to give up but couldn’t let myself crumble. I hoped it was how I would remember him instead of delirious and fragile.

We talked as if our world wasn’t being destroyed with every second that passed. He told me he was so proud of me and loved me more than anything. He asked about my job and how I liked living in Kentucky. I didn’t have a chipper answer at first but wished to see him smile, not bring him down with me, so I lied. The first lie led to a second, and before I was aware of it, I had created an entire fictitious life and didn’t stop until we were both satisfied. I told him my life was great and couldn’t wait for Mom and him to visit during the summer, knowing it was doubtful he would see the sunrise again and definitely would not be here during his favorite time of the year, spring. When he mentioned my love life, I said I was happy that my career kept me too busy to date and rarely thought about the fact that I lived alone, although it was something I thought of every night before my eyes closed. Of course, he knew me well enough to realize the answers I gave him held little to no truth, but he didn’t punk me out on it. Therefore, I kept painting the beautifulness of a perfect life that I lived for him. He wouldn’t get to see how my life turned out, and neither of us could begin to guess where it was headed, but we both liked the story I told.

When he faded out of reality, I whispered lies of my wedding and how he had to catch me from falling as he walked me down the aisle. I told him he secretly hated the guy I was marrying, but only because he didn’t think the guy was good enough for his little girl. Dad tried to laugh at that one, but it came out as a faint noise accompanied by a bright smile.

“Course he isn’t.” Dad grinned, and his eyelids blinked slowly while he attempted to fight the drugs coursing through his veins. “Nobody will ever be good enough for my Ray.” He barely forced the words out of his lips before soft snores took their place.

“Tell me more. What about Momma and me?” He quietly encouraged without reopening his eyes.

“We all drive Hummers.”

“No!” His eyes flickered open momentarily with excitement and were fast to close again. “Ferraris.”

“Okay, Dad.” I laughed and shook my head, another small giggle piping through my lips. “We all drive Ferraris, and I make so much money, we live in a fucking castle with all the works. A private jet and butlers.”

His eyebrows rose high on his forehead when I cussed, but I hadn’t expected less. Actually, I was selfishly hoping it would pump a little fire into his body and remind him how to fight. I needed him to fight, but it was a losing battle. I wasn’t an idiot. You couldn’t ask someone to switch positions in the middle of a war after they’d been shot while standing guard on the frontline of duty. That was basically what I was doing, asking the impossible from my dad. I wanted to witness him being the only person to recover without any treatment…that I knew of anyway. The rest of society and their anomalies didn’t matter to me, they weren’t my dad. In the end, the heart-shattering devastation was that it didn’t matter how much we both wished for none of this to be real, it was. He was slipping closer to death with every word we spoke, and it didn’t matter if either of us wanted it. He was dying, and I would keep living without him.

It was funny, people who weren’t apt to lie frequently did in times like this. I was no different. I couldn’t bear the thought of telling him I regretted moving away a little more each time I entered his room. I wouldn’t breathe the truth that every constriction of my heart hurt more than the last because I’d spent so much time away from them. These talks were limited, and I never knew from one minute to the next if I was talking to the real dad or if it was the drugs speaking for him.

A nurse explained the morphine would help him rest, and he wouldn’t be in as much pain. When his breathing was fast, I noticed they gave it to him more than when it wasn’t. Seeing all of the tubes and wires connected to the man who taught me to ride a bike and throw a right hook was never something I thought I would live to see. It was definitely a sight I hoped I wouldn’t. On the last day, we both felt it coming. He waited until Mom left the room and opened his palm for me to put my hand in it.

“Rachel Charlene. My Ray of sunshine,” he paused, and his chest rapidly heaved as he caught his breath, exhausted from the short sentences he spoke. “Promise me you’ll take care of her. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t think I can keep up my end of the bargain anymore,” he panted in a very weak voice, and his light blue eyes filled with tears of shame. He was never one to quit anything, much less admit defeat, but here he was doing exactly that. I wanted to hate him for giving up, but it would be selfish to do. He’d fought for so long. Honestly, I had no clue how long he’d struggled to keep his life on this earth, battling the death rapidly pulling him into the afterlife. I was ashamed that I didn’t know how long he had been sick. I should have asked more than I had, but I didn’t, and it was something I would always regret.

“I promise, Dad, I’ll take care of Mom.” I sniffled as tears circled the whites of my eyes and trickled down my cheeks, one pooling around my nose ring as I wiped it away.

“If you didn’t have all that tackle in your beautiful face, that wouldn’t happen.” He attempted to laugh but ended up coughing instead.

“It gives me character.” I meekly smiled, repeating the words he’d repeated to me countless times when people had made fun of my piercings. That was the thing about my dad, he always had the right words to say at the exact moment they needed to be said. I’d promised to take care of Mom, but I would always be playing second fiddle to him. If I had to be a second chair to someone in life, I was honored it was him.

* * *

Today wasn’t goingto be easy. How did one prepare to bury their dad? The person who taught them to be strong and fought off the bad begging to bleed into one’s mind? You didn’t. Plain and simple. No amount of time or planning could ever make me ready to face this day. Even if I had a thousand years to get ready for this, I still wouldn’t be prepared for it.

I’d been in a daze of denial right up until the moment we picked out his casket and made the arrangements, but putting on an all-black outfit and experiencing the quietness of my childhood home, made it even more real. There wasn’t any music flowing through the open air of our home as there would have been if he were still here with us. The faint and comforting whisper of Don’t You Cry Baby wasn’t lingering in the background of my every movement in this house as it had as long as I could remember any time Dad thought I was feeling down. The irony of the lyrics wasn’t lost on me, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to accept that he was gone. I couldn’t. My parents were the one constant in my life that had always been there for me. Even on the shittiest of days, Mom and Dad were in my corner, and often Mom and I fought too much to have long conversations. Dad was always the one to have heart-to-hearts with me, but those wouldn’t happen anymore. The song that was a better fit for today was Drown In My Own Tears. While I hadn’t let myself truly embrace the feelings of loss that pulsated through my whole body, I felt the meaning of that song more now than ever before. I was drowning myself in torture and grief, and now, there wasn’t a person alive with the strength to pull me from the tragedy of my own mind. The rain of sadness filled my insides, and I didn’t know what I would do when it spilled over and left me gasping for air.

I stood as still as possible, hoping any song in my Dad’s voice would somehow find its way into the air on its own, but the only thing pounding in the stagnant almost unbreathable atmosphere was the silence of death. We all made promises to loved ones of what we would do if something ever happened to them. I wasn’t any different. I’d vowed to dad on one of his good days that I would blast Ray Charles through the walls of our house as a reminder that we would all be together again one day. I hadn’t only broken that promise, I made one to myself. Not only would I not play the songs by him, but I would avoid anything that reminded me of this place. It made me a shit daughter, but I planned on begging Mom to move to Kentucky with me as soon as everything settled down. I would still take care of her, but it wouldn’t be here where all the good memories of my once happy family transitioned into ones of failure.

I couldn’t stay here. Everything I saw reminded me of Dad and how I let him down. Maybe if I hadn’t left, maybe then, he’d still be alive. Fuck. I really had no conception of reality at this point or what I would have done to prevent what happened to him, but anything was better than what I did…or rather, what I hadn’t done. Absolutely nothing. Not a damn thing. I didn’t do a thing to stop his death, not that I really could have had I been here, but I could have visited more. I hadn’t been back home since two Christmas’s ago. These were the things that would haunt me for each day to pass. The what-ifs and what could have been’s could very well be the reason I joined Dad in death. Could a person really worry themselves to death or was it merely a figure of speech? I had no clue, but the way my sides were heaving in and out with distress and the unrelenting pain forcing its way through my body made it pretty evident. It was a very real possibility. Guilt had far more power than anyone ever gave it credit for unless they happened to be experiencing it like me.

“We have to go, Ray,” Mom called up the stairs, her voice carrying into my room.

I shivered as she spoke my nickname, feeling the overwhelming guilt that landed on me with it. Dad and his love for Ray Charles’ music. No matter how much I wanted to forget, I would always be a constant reminder of the ways I abandoned my dad when he needed me the most. He once said he named me after the only other thing he loved, other than Mom that was, music. Mom wouldn’t let him name a girl simply Ray, so he picked the name Rachel Charlene since it was essentially Ray Charles’ name, give or take a couple of different letters here and there.

I didn’t answer her as I should, I merely powered down my cell and shoved it into my clutch as I slowly inched my arm through the strap to drag out the moment. Each step I took drew me closer to the second we dropped my dad six feet under the earth, and I wasn’t ready for any of it. This was a portion of life no one should ever have to experience, and yet, we all did. We all encountered the death of loved ones, never truly knowing how to handle it. Death was one of the subjects no one really knew how to approach. We were all as clueless as the next when it came to grieving. No one possessed the capability of delivering the correct words to make another long any less for yesterday because those words didn’t exist. At the end of the day, the person was still gone, and despite how much any of us tried, it wouldn’t change a damn thing.

Many familiar faces paused in front of Dad’s casket and then paid their respects to us as we sat in the front pew of the church. The majority of people said they went to wakes and graveside services to pay their respects, but it wasn’t to the dead as most thought, it was to those left behind. That was exactly how I felt. Dad left me behind, and now, I didn’t know what to do with my life. Clearly, I could have just asked for some time off work instead of quitting, but whatever amount of time work gave me would never be enough. I had to be here with Mom because I wasn’t here for Dad. I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t leave her to wither away without him. Here I was, in Cleveland, Ohio, jobless and falling apart from every cell in my body.

I sat almost motionless, transfixed on the sunlight bleeding through the stained-glass window as if in a trance. Both the light and window were beautiful, but somehow lost their luster as they fell into the darkness of sorrow. The only time I looked at the faces that approached thereafter was when I was spoken to directly, which wasn’t often. Most of the people were here for Mom and had long forgotten me. Either that or they didn’t have any words of comfort for me, so they didn’t even try. Of course, Wren was seated beside me and held my right hand in her left. I didn’t ask if Logan was going to be here because I was afraid of the answer she would give me.

I wasn’t sure if I would be happy or devastated to cross paths with Logan again. Something deep inside my body ached for him to be here, maybe he could make this nightmare disappear. I wasn’t stupid, I knew it wasn’t true, but it didn’t stop the longing from happening. Even if he did show, I wouldn’t know him any more than he would me. No single person was to blame for that. We were both at fault. Maybe we didn’t fight hard enough for us, or maybe we pushed the whole “us” too far. I hated how selfish I was at this moment. My thoughts should have been filled with memories of Dad, but here I sat a measly eight feet from his lifeless body thinking of my past relationship.

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