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“Liver cancer,” Maria says from behind us.
She walks into the room, her boyfriend hovering nearby. Polite introductions are made, and then an awkward silence descends. Mama’s crying again, rubbing her thumb over the back of Dad’s hand while the rest of us linger around his bed, not knowing what to say.
Sofia eventually plunks into a chair on the other side of Dad’s bed. He turns to her, his lips rising into a glum smile. There’s a softness in his gaze that I’m not used to seeing, and then his eyes start to glisten with tears.
“I’m sorry,” he rasps.
“I know.” Sofia gives him a half smile. “You’ve already said that.”
Dad sniffs, nodding and then searching the room for Maria.
She steps forward, her voice feather soft. “I know, Dad. I forgive you, okay?”
I look at her, unable to hide my disbelief.
She mirrors my expression for a second, then sighs. “He’s dying, Liam. Just… forgive him.”
I can’t.
The thought hits me like a bullet.
I guess I didn’t realize how thick and unrelenting my feelings were.
But how can Maria just stand there, casually handing out forgiveness like it costs nothing?
Was it because Dad never got a fist on her?
She still had to hear our mother’s tears and wails. She still curled up in that closet shaking with her own tears as we listened to the carnage downstairs.
“Do it for Mama.” My older sister gives me a pleading look, and my eyes are drawn back to the bed, to the sallow man who’s lying there not even looking like the father I once revered, then feared, and now hate.
Rachel’s hand slips into mine, and she gives it a gentle squeeze.
“The doctor told me there’s nothing more we can do other than make Dad comfortable,” Maria keeps going. “The cancer wasn’t caught in time. Dad left it far too late before seeking help. He’s riddled with it.”
“Why didn’t he get help?” I mutter.
“I didn’t want to be a bother,” Dad rasps.
I can’t help a scoff.
No bother. Dad didn’t want to be a bother.
What the fuck does that even mean?
After torturing us for years, coming back and knocking on our door, being a complete pain in the ass, he didn’t want to bother anyone with the fact that he was dying?
I can’t compute this shit.
I can’t make sense of what’s happening right now.
Sofia was so scared of our old man, she’d lock herself in her room whenever he was around. Now she’s sitting next to his bed, sharing little smiles and telling him it’s okay.
No. It’s not okay.
It’ll never be okay.
I back away from the bed.
