It’s my father.
Like a gazelle in headlights, I pause, frozen momentarily in time before my mother’s scream fills the room.
“Nooooo!”
Something snaps within me, and I move, falling to the floor beside my dad.
“Someone call nine-one-one!” I bark out, horrified at the expression on my dad's pale face.
“We have,” someone answers softly, like they already know there’s no point panicking now.
It’s twisted in agony, his hand clutching at his chest.
My fingers tremble, searching for his pulse beneath the stiff collar of his shirt.
Nothing.
“Dad! Wake up!” I shake him, but the rigid flesh beneath my fingers sends me reeling.
“He’s gone!” Mom wails, throwing herself onto his chest.
I rock back on my heels, staring at the man on the floor like I’m in some kind of nightmare.
This isDad. Dad doesn’t die; not on my watch.
But fuck…
Paramedics swoop in, pulling Mom from him as they tear his shirt open.
But I know, no matter how many times they pump his chest, counting and breathing, he’s gone.
Mom looks like she’s going to pass out, and I struggle to my feet, making my way to her.
She sinks against me, howling like an animal.
“I can’t…Ican’t…” she repeats breathlessly.
I stroke her hair, staring at the paramedics who are trying everything to resurrect my dead dad.
Dead.
How thefuckis my father dead?
I can’t hear anything.
Silence throbs in my ears; not even Mom's screams penetrate the wall that’s keeping me sane.
The paramedics don’t give up until they’ve tried everything, and it’s only when they turn to us, the look in their eyes full of heartache and bad news, that Mom collapses into my arms.
Someone grips my shoulders, squeezing it in what I can only assume is a reassuring manner.
“Mom,” I croak out, smoothing her hair beneath my fingers.
This isn’t right.
Dad’s not even fuckingold.
“I’m sorry.”
