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“Nothing right now,” Mom says and swallows hard. “Maybe a glass of water. But if you don’t mind, I’m going to take a nap.”
“Of course,” Dad says and leans over, kissing her forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
My dad is an ass. But he cares about my mom and he’ll do anything for her. They have the kind of relationship that people write about. He’s there for her no matter what. His devotion is incredible. The fact that I’m on the outside, looking in, is beside the point.
When we get to the living room, my dad turns to me.
“Thank you for bringing her.”
I nod. “You’re welcome.”
“She doesn’t look good. I would have preferred her to stay there a while longer. But the doctors said it's better she’s in her own space.”
“We’ll keep an eye on her and if she gets worse, we’re taking her right back. She’s not going to make it without a transplant.”
My dad nods. “I spoke to the doctor. They’re not putting her on the list until it’s life-threatening. But have you seen her? Doctors are so full of shit.”
“They’ve taken good care of her,” I argue. It’s the team of doctors we always work with that keep pulling her through. Since her heart surgery, our team has shifted from cardiologists to pulmonologists, but we still have two doctors who are always on board and willing to offer advice.
“They have,” Dad agrees. “But that transplant…she needs new lungs. There’s no way we can get around it.”
“And when we get there, we’ll make it happen,” I say.
For a moment, we’re wrapped in solidarity. Mom is sick and we both care for her, worry about her, and will do whatever it takes to make sure she’s comfortable and getting better.
Dad looks at me. “And when the time comes, will you be able to handle it?”
“What?” I ask.
“I don’t know what kind of money you’re getting in now that you retired.”
The jab makes me bristle and it snaps the bubble we were in.
“I said we’ll make it happen,” I say through gritted teeth. “I won’t promise something I can’t do.”
My dad shrugs as if he doesn’t believe me.
I step a little closer to him. “Do I need to remind you that I’m doing you a favor by covering all the extra medical expenses?”
“What the hell are you trying to say?”
“I’m doing it because Mom is everything to me, but I’m not obligated to do anything. You act like my choices are wrong because I’m not putting Mom first, but that’s all I’ve been doing for years.”
“I’vebeen putting your mother first,” Dad snaps at me. “Who’s here every day, taking care of her, picking up the pieces? While you’re out there—”
“You’re her husband,” I interrupt him. “I’m entitled to live my life. I’m taking care of her in my way and I’m doing a lot. You have no right to suggest that I’m not pulling my weight here.”
Dad clenches his jaw and balls his fists.
“Maybe you should go,” he says tightly. “I need to put supper together, and it will be a long night making sure she’s alright.”
I shake my head and walk to the door without saying goodbye.
When I get into my car, I kick myself for letting my dad get to me. He’s always been a dick to me. I know he hates my guts, but I do what I have to for my mom, and more. He has no right to judge me, to berate me, or to suggest that I don’t care.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to gain control. I breathe deeply a few more times. Mom doesn’t feel the way he does. She knows how much I care. She cares about me the same way, too.
I’m glad for her that the two of them have such a great relationship—she needs someone like that by her side who won’t waver in his commitment no matter how hard things get. But I wish his devotion to her didn’t affect my relationship with her and how close we could have been.
