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I rub my forehead with my fingertips.
“She’s sedated and her vitals are stable for now. The doctors are worried, though. Her lungs won’t last much longer; we need to find her a donor. And it’s not easy because it will be a double transplant.”
Natalie’s eyes widen. “That’s serious.”
I nod. “We knew it was serious, but it’s gotten to that point where there is no going back. The doctors didn’t want to do a transplant before, hoping she would bounce back. But I saw this coming.” I laugh bitterly. “As if she hasn’t been through enough in her life as it is. Do you want something to drink?”
Natalie nods and we walk to the kitchen together. I make us coffee.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything stronger?” She asks.
I shake my head, watching the coffee machine gurgle and spit out the brown liquid. “If I start drinking now, I might not want to stop.”
“It’s okay to give yourself a break,” she says.
“I don’t think I can trust myself.”
She watches me and I can’t read her expression. I don’t know what she thinks of me right now. And maybe that’s a good thing. She doesn’t look like she pities me, and I appreciate that. The last thing I want is pity.
“How is your dad doing? It must be hard on him, too.”
I snort. “The only thing that’s really hard on him is the fact that I’m spending my money on the restaurant.”
When Natalie only stares at me without a response, I take a deep breath and let it out with a shudder.
“That’s not fair of me,” I concede, my voice a little softer. “Of course, this is hard on him. My mom is his everything.”
“Doesn’t he approve of you opening a restaurant?” Natalie asks.
I hand her a cup of coffee and gesture with my head for her to follow me to the living room. We sit down on the couches, looking out over the city view through my floor-to-ceiling living room windows. She sits close to me and her warmth radiates through her clothes. Knowing she’s right here with me is soothing.
“My dad isn’t my biggest fan,” I start. Not looking at her somehow makes it easier to talk about the things that bother me. “The only reason why he’s happy with me at all is because I’m willing to pay for all the medical bills. Without me and my success, he couldn’t afford all her medical bills.”
She doesn’t say anything so I keep talking, letting it all out.
“My dad resents me for her health. She’s always had heart problems, and giving birth to me made things worse, apparently. She had a heart transplant when I was younger, but her lungs were already fucked because of her heart defect. Now, she’ll need another transplant just to keep going. I’m the one that shoulders the bill every time—the big-shot football player with all the money. My dad thinks it’s my responsibility because it’s my fault she’s like this or some fucked up thing.”
When I glance at Natalie, she looks shocked.
“I know, no one thinks about this shit behind the scenes when they see a football star running onto the field. They all want to be like me because my life must be so fucking perfect, right?” I know I sound bitter, but I can’t help it. I need to pour this out somewhere, or I feel like I’ll combust.
“Does your dad think you’ll care less about your mom and her medical bills if you open the restaurant?” Natalie asks softly.
I shake my head. “I don’t think he thinks I care at all. He’s just worried that I’m going to put the money somewhere else and then he’ll have to figure out a way to help her. Not that he ever asked me—I started doing it because I love her. But it’s become this thing, this festering mess.” I look at Natalie again.
She listens quietly to me. She puts her hand on my leg and her warmth seeps into my skin. “I feel like I’m never going to get away from this. It doesn’t matter what I do—if I keep playing ball, I’ll keep making the money my dad wants to use for my mom. But it’s going to end one day. I can’t keep going forever. It’s time to retire. But now, with the restaurant in the pipeline, I keep feeling guilty that I’m not doing what I should to help my family.”
Natalie frowns. “It’s not your obligation to take care of them.”
“I know. But that doesn’t change the fact that I feel I should help them. I mean, it’s my mom. What am I going to do? I’m not going to turn my back on her; I’ll do whatever it takes. It’s not like this restaurant business is using up all my money, either. But that’s none of my dad’s business.”
“Did you tell your dad that?”
I nod. “He only believes what he wants about me, though. He’ll never see me for who I really am; he’ll only see me for who he wants me to be. A piggy bank, and someone to blame.”
“I don’t think it’s like that,” Natalie says. “When you’re a parent—”
“You don’t know my dad,” I say, cutting her off. I sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to bite your head off. I just feel like I’m in a corner. I can’t live my own life without feeling guilty. And I can’t be the person my dad wants me to be because it’s impossible.”
