Page 17 of It's Just You

6

Kane

“Come on,Dad. Let’s at least get you dressed,” I said as I took in the sight of his grey face and dull eyes.

He shook his head, wincing. “Hurts.”

“I know.” Inwardly, I sighed. Of course it hurt. He always hurt. Hell, I hurt just looking at him. If only we knew what was wrong with him…

But we didn’t, and he didn’t want Sam to find out he was damn near incapacitated by a disease or condition no doctor could name, so he had to get up. That meant getting dressed and pretending to be fine, which was always exhausting for him… and for us.

“What is it today?” I asked, hoping against hope to be able to figure out something.

“Joints. Knees, hands, feet. Damn, basically everywhere.” He closed his eyes, an exhausted sigh coming from his lips.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I wish I knew what to do, but…” I trailed off. There was no need to rehash what we already knew. Until the doctors found an explanation for his symptoms, there wasn’t much we could do. Pain meds could only do so much, and he hated taking them anyway.

I startled when he gripped my hand.

“Kane,” he whispered. “I just— I just want it to stop.”

I froze. “Dad, don’t even think—” My heart pounded against my ribs, thundering like nothing else.

“No, not like that. I just want the pain to stop, for a little bit. I’m sorry.” He smiled weakly.

“Meds today then,” I said firmly. I ran a hand over his grey hair. He’d gotten so old since all of this had started shortly after Sam went away to college.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with it.” He covered my hand with his, drawing it into his fragile grasp.

“You don’t have to thank me.” I was still trying to calm my racing heart, but I couldn’t let him try to thank me for something I’d have done no matter what. He was my dad. Of course I’d do everything I could to help him.

“I know you wanted to go to college, too, so yes, thank you.” It must’ve been on his mind as much as mine since Sam had come home for vacation. “You have no life, no time for yourself… I wanted more for you than this.” He smiled weakly again, then instantly closed his eyes. “Dizzy. Damn.”

“Oh, Dad.” I squeezed his hand. “Just keep your eyes closed. It’ll pass.” He was getting worse. We couldn’t deny it any longer. Maybe it was time to tell Sam, but so far, Dad had refused completely. He didn’t want to burden my younger brother with the news, afraid he’d follow in my footsteps and quit college to take care of him. Apparently, it was bad enough that I did it, even though he’d never asked me to. If Sam quit, too, it would break his heart.

Right now, it broke mine, but I did my best to smile and pretend I was upbeat even as I worried about him and my mother day in and day out as I took them to doctors’ appointments and wherever they needed to go when Dad might have to get out of the car. He had a wheelchair, but he hated using it almost as much as he hated asking me for help.

It wasn’t like Mom was strong enough to take care of him. Even if she’d had the physical strength to help him like I did, she didn’t have the emotional capacity to handle this on her own. A nurse might’ve been fine, but they wouldn’t have been family.

“I’m still so sorry.” His voice was faint, nearly inaudible, but I still caught his words.

“You don’t need to thank me. Besides, I insisted.” I couldn’t just leave my parents alone to fight this. I’d always thought I’d be out of college a semester or two dealing with it. Not… two years. But I had a job, I had a steady routine, and for now, I had too many responsibilities to do much more than go out and have a beer.

Dad kept his eyes closed. He probably hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. He’d always been a night owl, and now, his insomnia was out of control. It kept him awake most of the night while no one was around to help him, then he dozed away the days without ever feeling completely rested.

“Are you feeling any better, or are you still dizzy?” I asked carefully.

“Better,” he murmured, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“Then let’s get you up. Sam will be downstairs soon, and he’ll ask questions if you’re still in bed. You can go back to sleep after he leaves again,” I told him.

“Your brother notices too much.”

I almost ugly-laughed. If Sam noticed too much, he’d have noticed how damn sick our father looked, how sallow his skin was and how he trembled just a little too much. Either he was fucking oblivious or just didn’t want to know what was going on. But I kept those thoughts to myself.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said vaguely. “So getting up it is. Come on, I’ll lift you up.” I bent down to get his legs, then carefully helped him sit up.

He needed a moment to gather himself — probably the dizziness again.

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