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Instantly, I feel sick.
“It will grow back, honey,” says Hannah and strokes his face.
“I could grow long hair like my dad when I’m better.”
I exchange a glance with Hannah who busies herself passing medication to Connor.
Dad.
How is he easily accepting this? “Will you play Xbox with me again?” asks Connor.
“Sure.”
“Connor, you need to go to bed. We have a hospital appointment tomorrow.”
For the first time, I see fear in Connor's eyes and I'm overwhelmed by the urge to hug him, to tell him I want to stay with him and never leave again. We haven’t touched in the few hours I’ve been here; it feels inappropriate somehow.
“Why don’t you take a shower, Connor?” Hannah asks.
Connor climbs off the chair. “Will you stay?” he asks me, the plea in his brown eyes wiping any thought of leaving soon.
“I’ll stay until you go to bed.”
Connor hesitates for a moment before launching himself at me and hugging me tightly. Without looking at Hannah, I awkwardly hug him back. As quickly as he took hold, Connor lets go.
“I like that you’re my dad.”
When he walks away, I hear Hannah’s breath catch in her throat and don’t look at her. Stiffly, I stand and gather up the empty bowls and head to the kitchen. I can’t share how this is affecting me. I have to be strong for them.
My head pounds against the thoughts growing louder since the day I discovered this fucked-up situation. I want to fix this, but I can't fix him. Maybe I could fix the situation with the three of us.
