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“Sorry. I was on set and they need all phones to be on silent-mode. The fastest way to ruin a take is someone’s phone going off. Did something happen?”
Taylor points to a big lump lying across our living room couch. “Your dad happened.”
I kick off my shoes in a hurry, alarm shooting through me. It’s not a lump, but a man bundled up in the spare blankets we have on the couch. “Dad? What are you doing here?”
He rolls over, looks up at me with bleary eyes. He’s not doing so hot.
“There’s my darling girl!” Dad rolls straight off the couch. He smells like a distillery. Disappointment grips me. I don’t bother helping him stand up despite his severe sway. “I’ve been waiting forhours.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask, fighting back tears. “You were out drinking again, weren’t you.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“No,” he lies, and poorly at that.
“What should we do?” Taylor asks. “Should we call someone?”
“Iamhis someone,” I say with a sigh. I give her an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry. Let me handle this, okay? I’ll get him out of—”
My day officially goes from bad to shitty as hell. It’s in that exact moment that Dad hurls all over himself. It’s not pretty.
“Fuck,” he rasps. “Fuck, I’m sorry, sweetie. I don’t want you to see this.”
Taylor screams. “Get him to the bathroom! Quickly, before he ruins the carpet!”
The next hour is a nightmare. Between Taylor freaking out about wanting to call an ambulance and Dad insisting he doesn’t need one, I found myself in a sort of numb trance. I couldn’t remember how I got here or how things got this bad. At the base of it all, I could only feel one thing: betrayal.
Dad promised. He promised me he wouldn’t drink anymore, but here he was, drunk as a skunk and paying for it with his head shoved into my shared bathroom toilet.
It wasn’t always like this. At least, I don’t think. Dad used to hide his habit very well, sneaking in sips when he thought I wasn’t looking. When I was a little girl, I thought that’s just what adults did. They were allowed to drink alcohol and Dad was the most responsible person I knew. My Dad was my hero, and heroes can survive anything. Now I’m starting to realize that maybe my father isn’t the hero I made him out to be. He’s a man, just like everyone else. And right now, he needs help.
Help I can’t possibly give to him alone.
Hunter picks up halfway through the first ring.
“Eden?”
“Hi…” I say, choking on a sob.
“What’s going on?” The concern in his tone rings louder than his words. “Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m at my apartment. Dad’s here. He’s… I need help, Hunter. He won’t let me call an ambulance.”
“I’m coming, sweetheart. Hang tight.”
* * *
Hunter can be a real bull when he wants to be, but I’m not scared. I’m relieved when he charges into the apartment, his presence soothing despite the mess I have on my hands. And by mess, I mean my drunk father who’s now passed out on the cramped floor.
“For fuck’s sake, Thomas,” Hunter grumbles. “How long has he been out?”
“About a minute,” I tell him. “He’s been in and out of consciousness.”
“We need to get him to a hospital.”
“I tried calling for paramedics, but he kept screaming that he didn’t want them. They won’t come if the patient outright refuses.”
“We’ll take him in my car,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Get the door for me, Eden.”
I spring to my feet as Hunter lifts my father in a fireman’s carry.
