Page 59 of Say I'm Yours
I turn to my brothers, who both nod when I take the step closer. “I won’t be long. If you want to go get your blood drawn . . .”
Wyatt clasps my shoulder. “I’ll see you in a few.”
I nod. Zach looks away despondently and follows Wyatt. Zach is by far the closest to my father. He’s always been the most like him, and I hope Presley gets here soon. She was out by Knoxville delivering a horse for Zach and is on her way back. I hate seeing him so broken, you can tell he needs her.
Grace takes my hand and squeezes. “I’ll be right here.”
I pull her against my chest and kiss the top of her head.
With each step toward his room, my heart breaks. I don’t know what to say to him, but I know that I can’t let this be the end.
* * *
“Dad,” I say as I enter the room.
“Would you give us a few minutes?” he asks my mother.
“I’ll be back in five minutes.” Mama points to me. “Don’t make him upset or so help me God.”
There’s little chance of that. I try to remember he’s in the hospital and that I was performing CPR on him hours ago. I hate seeing the man I’ve admired my whole life looking weak and sick. He’s the one who always stood on this side of the bed when my brothers and I did some foolish stunt, now I’m the one hoping to talk some sense into him.
I need to stay calm and convince him why he’s going to do this. Why hehasto do this.
“We’ll be fine, Mama.”
“I’ll go give everyone an update.”
When she steps out, I move around to the side of his bed. My legs tremble as I stand here. My father is sick. My father is dying, and I don’t know what to do.
“Thank you, son,” Dad says as I get close.
“For what?”
“We wouldn’t be talkin’ right now if it weren’t for you.”
And if I don’t get him to turn the boat around about treatment, I may not be able to save him next time. I need my father. I need him in ways I probably don’t understand. He’s the one who keeps me on track. He calls me on my shit, which there’s a lot of, and makes me see reason. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be who I am today.
I need him to fight.
I need him to win.
More than that, I need him to stay alive.
“Dad.” I step closer.
He puts his hand up. “I know what you’re goin’ to say, and I’m not changin’ my mind.”
Unacceptable.
“You have to try.”
“I know all of what the doctors told me, and I’m not doin’ it. I won’t become a man who can’t get out of bed, can’t eat, doesn’t function. That’s what’ll happen. I watched my father die like that, and I won’t do it.”
“You’re not even willing to give it a shot? That goes against everything you’ve told us our whole lives.”
My father scoots up in his bed. “I know you think that, but for what end? So, your mama is forced to watch me be sick? She can’t go through that, and I don’t want to be that man. I won’t do that to her.” He draws in a deep breath, which sounds too much like a struggle, and points to the door. “That woman can barely see me with a cold, you want her to suffer through that?”
“And you think her burying you is gonna be better?” I cry out.
