Page 76 of Hate You to Love You

chapter thirty-five

then

I lose track of how many times I go to the pharmacy to pick up Dad’s medication. In fact, both the pharmacy and the hospital become ingrained into my daily life. It’s only been three months since Dad was diagnosed with stomach cancer, and according to his doctor, the prognosis isn’t good. They’d found it too late, and by the time symptoms were presenting themselves, it had already spread to other organs. My parents remain determined to fight it.

‘If there’s a way to treat it, we’ll find it,’ Mum had told me before his first round of radiation therapy.

During those early appointments, I had hope because they had hope. Dad’s fighting spirit made everything feel like it was going to be okay. There was no way I was going to lose him to this. Not my dad.

But even though the radiation therapy worked to shrink the tumour in his stomach, it also took a toll on him. Day after day, week after week, I watched as Dad lost weight and began to look increasingly exhausted, to the point that he was barely recognisable. And he was constantly in and out of hospital.

‘Have you got Notting Hill?’ he asks me one evening from his hospital bed.

He’s been in hospital this past week. The pain has become unbearable, and he needs constant medical monitoring. One thing that’s been keeping his spirits up, besides visits from me and Mum, is the portable DVD player he had set up next to him. I’d brought him so many DVDs from home that he had a mini collection happening in the room.

‘Didn’t we watch that the other night? How about The Lake House? Remember how much you loved the way Keanu Reeves’s character keeps his promise to stay away from Sandra Bullock’s character until the time was right?

‘All right.’ He lets out a hoarse cough in between his laboured breaths. ‘But promise me we’ll watch Notting Hill tomorrow. And I want you to bring some pictures from home. Or anything from home.’

‘Pictures from home?’

Dad coughs again, grunting slightly. ‘Photos of us. If these are my last days, I want this place to feel like home. I want to be reminded of the life I lived with you and your mum.’

I lean forward and take his hand in mine. ‘Don’t speak like that. Remember what Mum said? We’re going to fight this.’

After another slow breath, he attempts to give me a smile. ‘As long as you continue to be brave, that’s enough fighting for me.’

After Dad shuts his eyes, I trace the lines of his face, so hollow from all the weight loss. He looks much older than he actually is. Even his curly hair has withered away. I grip his hand tightly, as if holding on to him would be enough to keep him with me. Wasn’t love powerful enough to do that?

The exhaustion of the day takes over, and I fall asleep. When I wake, I can’t tell how long I’ve been out for, but I’m still holding my dad’s hand and resting my head against his arm.

His eyes are shut. The room is silent. I bolt up from my chair so quickly that I knock the portable DVD player from the bedside table over. It clatters on the ground and the screen cracks. ‘Dad?’ I nudge him gently.

He lies still.

‘Dad, please don’t do this to me,’ I can’t stop the tears falling from my face.

He doesn’t wake up.

‘Don’t leave me!’ I cry out, falling to the floor as if his bed is an altar and I’m making a deal with God to bring him back. ‘Don’t leave me. Please, don’t go.’

I frantically call a nurse into the room, who alerts one of the doctors. They rush around the bed, doing tests, but it’s no use. Because I know what they are about to tell me.

‘I’m so sorry,’ the doctor says. ‘Your dad is gone.’

There’s an eerie silence in the room as I go still. Every nerve and bone in my body freezes. For some reason, I’m afraid to make a move. Because once I do, time will inch forward and it will mean that Dad is gone. Really gone.

And then I fall to the ground again, letting out screams and wails so wild they sound inhuman, hoping that the universe will hear my cries and bring my dad back to me. I didn’t know it was possible to feel this empty with this much pain in my heart.

So much for a happily ever after.

chapter thirty-six

now

I’ve got two days until my next one-on-one meeting with Claudia. Even though I have the weekend free to explore, I’m unable to think about anything but the dread of seeing Elliot after how we left things yesterday. The urgency in his voice as he called after me rings in my mind even as I nestle into the back corner of Cappuccino, a charming cafe opposite Waverley Station. I race through the last few pages of Bridget Jones’s Diary against a frosted window with a steaming cup of coffee. I spend the rest of the day wandering from cafe to cafe, bookshop to bookshop. Then Sunday passes in a blur of wandering around the city, being reminded of Elliot.

It’s claustrophobic. I need an escape.