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Hana started popping off about how men were such assholes. We should just go to another planet until we learned how to treat our women. That I was lucky she even gave me the time of day. All the while we debarked the plane and grabbed our luggage. Well, I grabbed our luggage, Hana was too busy still ranting. Her hands were waving all around. If anyone looked at us, I bet they thought she was a New Yorker tourist. We didn’t fit in with this crowd.
From business suits to surfers, there were people dressed in all kinds of clothing. I wasn’t the biggest fan of crowds, so I strapped the backpack to a complaining Hana’s back and got the hell out of dodge. I rented a car for us, and we drove to a hotel near the hospital my dad was at.
“Do you want to see him today?” Hana asked after we checked in and unpacked our clothes.
“I do, but I don’t.” I couldn’t help feeling conflicted. Hana was always easy to talk to. She never judged and she actively listened to what was being said.
“How about we go now. When we get the band aid ripped off, we can come back here and decide what you want to do next.” She made it sound like a smart idea.
“Yeah! I want to get a feel and test the waters before I make any decisions. I don’t even know what’s wrong with my dad. My mom never said. She just made it seem like I needed to get here fast before it’s too late.”
I tugged at my hair trying to move it into the shape that I wanted. My mother’s lack of information pissed me off. I wanted to know everything that had happened. But more importantly, I wanted to know what they wanted from me. Why have they called me after all this time?
“Well, we will know more when we get to the hospital.” Hana wrapped her arms around my stomach and squeezed tight. “It will be okay. I’m with you. What’s the worst thing that can go wrong?”
Famous last words.
We got to the hospital with a few hours left for visitors. I approached a nurse and had to wait at the entrance kiosk while she tracked down what area my father was in. It took a bit of time, but she finally found Johnathon Pierce II, my father.
We headed to the cancer ward, and my feet felt like they were filled with lead.My father had cancer. I had to wrap my head around the fact that my father had cancer and that no one told me until it was too late.It’s the audacity for me.
We stopped in front of his room number, and I felt my hand tighten on top of Hana’s. The door was open a sliver, and I stepped closer, dragging Hana alongside me. My mother’s head could be seen from the hallway, and my breathing picked up. All I could think about was when she kicked me out.
“What’s the plan?” Hana whispered into my ear.
I shrugged. “I’m terrified of going in.”
“Do you want me to come with you or wait in the hall?” Hana looked around, probably seeking a chair to sit in.
I shook my head no. “I need you in there with me, baby girl.”
“Then that’s where I’ll be.” Hana squeezed my hand, and we faced the door together. Just having her here on my arm helped beat back the anxiety clogging my throat.
I knocked lightly, cautious not to rattle the door. My mother’s voice called weakly for us to come in.
My father laid in the bed, his face paler than normal, and I could see he’d lost so much weight. The man I used to see as a hero was a shell of his former self. The air smelled of cleaning solution and death. I wanted to be anywhere but here right now.
“There he is.” The skeleton that was my father rasped. “My son.”
His eyes shone his tears, and for a moment, I was taken aback. Was this the same man who stood stoic next to my mother while she spewed hatred at me? Maybe he had a change of heart. If so, then maybe I needed to change my attitude as well.
I then decided I had to tread lightly, until I knew how theybothwould receive me.
“Hello father.” My voice cracked a bit from emotion, and I cleared it. “You remember Hana, don’t you?”
My father scrutinized her slowly. “The child whose parents took you in?”
“She’s not a child, father.”
Why was I here again? Oh, right, because my parents taught me that blood was thicker than anything else, that no matter what the issues were, we needed to forgive if they were family. Yeah, the hypocrisy was glaring.
“I didn’t mean to upset you. I only remember her as the neighbor kid. I just haven’t seen you in so long,” he croaked.
“Whose fault is that?” I quipped.
“Don’t speak to your father like that,” my mother admonished from the chair in the corner.
I turned. She looked more haggard. She, too, had lost weight, but I could see growing older had not been kind to her. It shouldn’t fill me with such elation, but anyone who said they wanted to see the people who harmed them living happy lives was a liar.
