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The bitter tone in my voice is enough to stop Quaid and Logan in their tracks. Carter is still down at the shore, sitting on the edge, his head in between his knees.
My tears keep falling down my face as I run away from the broken pieces of my heart.
They didn’t want me.
Not like I wanted them.
There is an unusual gust of wind that blows against me as I race home from the river, cleaning my tears with its harsh cool air. I’m not sure if I should be grateful that none of them raced after me to witness the state they left me in, or disappointed they respected my wish for privacy. Maybe a mixture of both.
I honestly thought tonight was going to be the night. The night that would be the beginning of something beautiful. But instead, I’m heartbroken, confused, and pissed off.
I’m still running madly when I finally reach our street. I wipe my face as best I can when I see a soft glow of a television set coming from my living room window. Just like he promised, Dad is still up, waiting to make sure that I get home okay.
Oh God.
When Dad sees me in this state, he’ll have a million questions, but tonight, I’m actually grateful he stayed up for me. I need to tell him what happened down by the river. Tell him why I’m hurting, and maybe he will have the answers. To ease the pain. To make this all okay somehow. Maybe he’ll be able to show me how I can maneuver from this heartache and maybe…just maybe come up with a solution to solve all our problems.
Dad has always supported me in everything I put my heart and soul to. And he’s always known that Logan, Quaid, and Carter were a big part of what made me happy. If there is anyone that can find a way for us to be together, I’m sure Dad will figure something out. If nothing else, then at least he’ll have a willing, supportive warm shoulder to cry on.
I open my front door, wiping the remaining tears that still trail down my face and head to the living room.
“Dad?”
I come over to the couch and see that his eyes are closed. He must have fallen asleep while watching TV. I turn it off and sigh. Even though I desperately need to talk to him, I guess tomorrow will have to do.
“Dad,” I whisper, giving him a little shake on the shoulder. “Dad, you fell asleep,” I say, pointing out the obvious. “Come on, old timer. Let’s get you back in your room.”
My brows crease into a deep V, witnessing how he doesn’t move an inch, even with my insistent shaking of his shoulder.
“Dad?” I say a little bit louder, shaking him with a little more force. “Wake up, Dad.”
But still, nothing.
“Dad, if this is one of your lame jokes, it isn’t funny,” I croak, shaking both of his shoulders this time. But again, there is no movement.
No breath.
Nothing.
An uncontrolled sob leaves my throat as I clasp both hands over my mouth. I start to shake my head profusely, not wanting to accept what I see before my very eyes.
“Wake up!” I shout, my knees slamming onto the floor beside the couch as I pound onto his chest. “Wake up!!!”
I shake him and shake him, and still, nothing. There is no gentle snore, no tender smile for me.
Nothing.
My tears are no longer a silent thing. They are rivers of despair and heartache, with earsplitting wails that travel all throughout our home.
“Please! Please, Dad! Don’t leave me. Please! You’re all I have!” I shout. “I need you! I can’t do this without you. Please. Come back.Please!” I cry, holding onto him, my tears dampening his shirt.
With my ear to his chest, I confirm his heart no longer beats, making mine shatter into a million small pieces.
I take my phone out of my purse and dial 911, but I know it’s already too late. There is nothing anyone can do for him now.
He’s gone.
The one man who loved me unconditionally since birth is gone.
