Page 57 of Face Me Off

Isn’t this my goddamn luck? The one time I didn’t answer Dad’s call would be when he actually needed me. And the kick to the groin? I always pick up. Not once have I let his call go to voicemail.

The lock finally gives, and I burst through the door.

“Dad?” My voice cracks, betraying the worry I’ve been trying to keep in check since receiving that cryptic phone call from Mrs. Hernandez.

“We’re in the living room.” The worry in Mariana’s voice has me picking up my speed.

That’s when I spotted her. Our silver-haired neighbor sits cross-legged on the floor next to…

My breath catches in my throat when I see Dad’s body slumped on the floor about ten feet away from his recliner.

Mrs. Hernandez looks up. Her kind eyes crinkle as she offers me a small smile. It’s meant to be reassuring but only amplifies the gravity of whatever’s happening here.

I take a tentative step forward. “Mrs. H, what happened? Is he?—”

She holds up a hand, her voice soft. “He’s alright, Ryan. Just having a rough day.”

A rough day. As I approach, the phrase echoes in my head, my gaze locked on Dad’s still form. I’ve seen him have “rough days” before, but this … this feels different. Heavier.

My fists clench at my sides. I should’ve been here. I shouldn’t have let the high from the win and the want to hang with my friends interfere with my duties. What kind of son am I?

“Don’t you dare blame yourself, mijo.” Mrs. Hernandez’s stern tone cuts through my spiraling thoughts. “You’re doing the best you can.”

I force a weak smile. How’d she know where my thoughts were headed? I swear the woman is a witch. Or maybe a saint. It’s hard to tell. Whatever she is, I’m grateful for her presence even as guilt gnaws at me.

“Thanks for being here, Mrs. H. I’ve got it from here.”

She nods and rises slowly with a soft groan. “I know you have a lot on your plate, but he needs someone to check in daily.”

I let out a slow breath. “I know. It’s just…” Obtaining the funds. Finding someone we can trust who’s willing. None of this is easy when piles of medical debt are left to pay.

The settlement can’t come soon enough.

She pats my shoulder as if understanding my unspoken thoughts. “You call me if you need anything, you hear? Anytime.”

“Appreciate it, Mrs. H.”

As she shuffles towards the door, I kneel beside Dad and gently touch his arm. “Hey, old man. You with me?”

His eyes flutter open, unfocused and glassy. The unmistakable reek of booze hits me, sinking my heart.

Shit. He’s relapsed.

Again.

Things got dark after the accident. We weren’t sure if he’d be able to walk again, and he demanded alcohol. The simple solution was not to give him any, but he got so nasty that Mom caved. When it became apparent he wouldn’t make a full recovery, she split, leaving me to handle his rehabilitation.

I was in high school. Too young to deal with a busted-up dad, but I did the best I could. What am I doing now?

Dad mumbles something incoherent.

A pang of helplessness hits me square in the chest. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I’m supposed to be the one who fixes things. The one who makes everything better. But right now, I feel entirely out of my depth.

I clench my jaw, fighting back the frustration threatening to bubble over. No. I can handle this. I have to. “It’s okay, Dad. Let’s get you to bed.”

His eyes flutter open, unfocused and glassy. For a second, I see a flicker of … something. But it’s gone before I can catch it, replaced by that vacant stare that twists my gut.

“C’mon, Dad. Let’s go.” I slip an arm around his waist and brace myself to take his weight.

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