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Mark calmly walks me up to the recovery ICU where my dad is, checking in with the nursing staff before encouraging me to go see him, alone.
“I’ll be right here,” he reminds me, nudging me forward but not wanting to go see for himself for some reason.
Everything he needs to know is in dad’s notes, I guess.
The nurse at the edge of dad’s bed is so kind. She tells me my dad can hear me if I want to talk to him, but seeing him like this I don’t know what to even begin to say.
His eyes flutter, and one of his hands reaches out for mine.
In a second I’m sitting on the edge of his bed, crying.
Sobbing how much I wished I’d been there. Telling my dad how awful I feel for not being there when he needed me.
Wishing I could tell him how stupid he was for not going to the doctor in the first place.
But he’s one step ahead of me.
“I should’ve listened to you, girl…” he wheezes, trying to move but only managing eye contact.
The machines monitoring him beep and pulse around him, making it feel like I’m talking to my dad inside a video game.
“You’re gonna be fine, dad,” I assure him. Almost relieved when he goes back to sleep, my hands under one of his.
“He’ll be extremely weak for a few days,” the nurse tells me. “But he’s doing really well so far,” she adds, a matter of fact.
Seeing dad so weak, so helpless, I can’t help but remember how sick he looked just a day ago.
Even though he’s so unwell still, he looks better than he did the last time I saw him and I know exactly who I have to thank for that.
Mark’s strong hands on my shoulders make me lift my head, turning to meet his eyes.
The nurse doesn’t flinch, even when my dad’s eyes flip open again.
“You!” he gasps, his whole body shuddering as the beeping equipment pulses faster. My dad’s heartbeat starting to ping off the charts at the sight of Mark.
“Yoooouuu!,” my dad growls again, his hands balling into fists as the nurse rushes to check equipment, administering more drugs.
Mark joins her, barking instructions and in a few moments dad is calmer, slipping back into sleep.
“I was afraid that might happen,” Mark confesses, reassuring me dad’s fine.
“Just a bad start to waking up. It happens sometimes,” he adds.
The nurse doesn’t look so sure and her eyes dart from Mark’s to mine before settling back on my dad as she moves closer to adjust his bedding. Making him comfortable again.
But I can’t help thinking about what just happened.
Every time my dad sees Mark he loses it.
Why?
I don’t wait too long before I ask Mark himself once we’re back out in the hallway.
“What is it between you and my dad?” I ask him, point-blank.
He looks away, taking a breath in but not saying a word.
“Every time he’s seen you on TV or in a magazine, he starts foaming at the mouth,” I protest. “Mark, what the hell is going on? I’m not five years old. I can see…” I add, not ashamed to let my hurt feelings showing.
Remembering how Mark was so interested in the photos of my dad in our house.
“The truth, Mark,” I demand. The one time I feel I could ever doubt, him or what I really want to hear, I’m not sure which is worse.
Mark’s tense face softens. We’re outside the ward and it’s quiet again in the sterile corridor.
“Evelyn, I just told you. Sometimes when patients wake up… Their reactions are hard to predict. You’re dad’s fine though. He just needs more...” he tries to tell me.
“Time?” I ask, huffing now. “My dad sees you and starts to yell and you tell me he needs more time?” I hear myself nearly shouting.
Sounding a lot like my dad wanted to just now.
Mark sighs heavily, looking down at his feet.
“Can we just go, Evelyn?” he asks. “Just go someplace else for a while?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused. “Like back to your house?”
“Like to Bermuda,” Mark says firmly, promising to explain everything if we can just get away for a few days together.
Maybe a week or two.
He leans in for the kiss I want, but there are too many unanswered questions.
“My dad’s just had open heart surgery and you want me to go to Bermuda with you?” I hear myself almost screech.
“Just for a while,” Mark says calmly, not even looking around as I throw a near fit right in front of him, showing him the flip side of gentle Evelyn.
He doesn’t flinch.
If anything, I think it excites him a little.
“Your dad and I have… a history. But you and I have a future,” he says with authority.
Before I can even think of anything to say, Dr. Mark Love says it all over again.
