Page 51 of For I Have Sinned

She nods slowly, peeling her eyes from the pictures. “And your dad?”

“We were close.” With my hands still clasped together, my finger taps against the top of my hand. “He died when I was twenty-six.”

Not only was my mom my best friend, but my dad was too. Six years without him, and the pain is still there. It was so long ago, but the event still feels fresh in my mind.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, sounding genuine with her apology. “What happened?” Her question seems to come as a shock because she shakes her head and quickly adds, “Never mind. You do not have to answer that.”

I don’t talk about what happened to my dad with anyone besides my mom, but I find myself wanting to tell Celine.

“We had this tradition. Once a month, we would go to the movie theater and ask the ticket seller to surprise us with whatever movie was playing at the time. It started when I was thirteen and became something we both looked forward to every month. Not knowing what movie we were going to see until we bought the tickets was a thrill.”

I smile at the memory when Celine says, “Sounds like fun.”

“It was.” I swallow and sit back in my seat. “The last time we went to see a movie, I told him I wasn’t able to go until a later showing because of work. By the time we got to the theater, it was ten at night. He didn’t mind at all. He was just excited that we could go. By the time we left, it was well past midnight. There weren’t many cars on the road, which made for a peaceful drive.”

My throat feels tight, and my eyes are beginning to sting, but I continue with a strained voice. “The car came out of nowhere and hit the driver’s side. The guy who was driving was drunk beyond the limit.”

I drum my fingers on my knee to the music lightly coming from the speaker. It’s a warm June night, and we have the windows down. The air feels good against my skin, and I can’t help but smile. Life is good right now. I have a job that I love, friends who are always there for me, and my parents.

As happiness floods through me, I glance at my dad, who is driving with a grin on his face. His finger taps the steering wheel just like mine are on my knee. The smile on my face fades quickly as we go through an intersection. A car coming from the left speeds through the stop sign with its headlights off.

“Dad!” I scream.

He immediately jerks his head to the left to see the incoming car. He tries to speed up, but with how fast the other vehicle is going, it’s too late. The impact is rough, sending our car flipping.

I don’t know how many times it flips, but when we finally stop, we are upright. I cough hard, trying to draw air into my lungs. My head is throbbing with intense pain, and my hands have blood on them from the glass of the windshield that shattered.

Lifting my hand to my head where pain is radiating, I look at my dad, who is leaning forward. His head rests against the steering wheel.

“Dad.” Reaching my hand out, I tap his shoulder. “Dad, are you alright?”

My eyes leave him to see the driver who hit us stumbling out of his car, holding his head and groaning. Lights in the surrounding houses are on now, and people are emerging from their homes to see what has happened.

Turning my attention back to my dad, I gently shake his shoulder again. “Dad.”

There is no response.

Carefully, I pull him off the steering wheel, and when his back hits the seat, his head lolls to the side, giving me a perfect view of the blood seeping from somewhere on his head. My teeth clench together at the sight, and I look over the rest of his body. Panic sets in when I notice he isn’t breathing.

“Are you okay?” A woman’s voice sounds from behind me, but I don’t respond because I can’t bear to take my eyes off the man who raised me.

“Dad.” I shake him again, tears falling down my face. The amount accumulating in my eyes is blurring my vision.

“The ambulance is on its way.” The woman informs me in a sad tone.

“Did you hear that, Dad? An ambulance is on the way.” I choke on my words. “Everything is going to be okay.”

He doesn’t hear me.

I know he doesn’t because he’s gone.

In the blink of an eye, my dad was taken from me. A guttural sob leaves me, knowing that he is dead.

My best friend.

Gone.

Sirens blare in the distance, coming for us, but all I can think about is my dad. And my mom. Oh god. She is going to lose it when she finds out. The doctors can’t be the ones to deliver this news to her. It has to be me.