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She turns my face to her and pierces me with a look. “You can have your feelings. After he’s gone. After, you can fall apart completely, but right now, you must be strong and courageous for him.” Her tone drops, a tone she only used on me when I was a little girl and had to teach me what’s what. “Crina, you do understand, no?”
I nod.
“Good.” She embraces me again, holding me close. Breathing out in relief, she looks over at the doctor. “Will it be possible to see him tonight?”
“One or two of you may see him, but one at a time, and for a maximum of five minutes. I don’t want to exhaust him.” He pauses. “I must warn you, he had a bad fall and it shows.”
Natalia pushes me forward. “You go first.” She holds me for a moment, leans in, and whispers, “Remember, no crying.”
She prods my back, pushing me to go, but I’m frozen in my spot. Biting the inside of my cheek, I pull back. Fear and nerves batter my heart. Marku, who’s been by my side this entire time, takes my hand and caresses it softly.
He takes a step forward and pulls me along until we’re at the door. He holds the back of my neck and hauls me against his chest. I inhale the comforting scent of crushed pine needles as he murmurs, “You can do this, baby. Go in there and talk to him. I’ll be right here when you get out. You can fall apart with me. I’ll be here to catch you.”
With a final squeeze to my nape, he knocks and then opens the door, holding it for me. I take a deep breath of man and pine and then step into the hospital room.
The door swings shut behind me. That distinctive antiseptic hospital smell permeates my nostrils and I scrunch my nose. My father lies on a hospital bed in a nondescript hospital gown that competes with the paleness of his skin, except for the purple bruise blossoming on his left side. His head is shifted to the side, the light from the window casting a golden glow over him. He seems to be sleeping.
God, please let him be sleeping.
I creep closer and stop. No movement. I take another fretful step forward and then another until I’m by his side. Along his temple is an ugly, dark bruise like a cascade of black fungi growing on a decaying tree.
His eyes flicker open. He blinks a few times and cracks a lopsided smile. “Ha, I guess I’m still alive.”
I roll my eyes. “Barely. Heard you got into a fight with a shower curtain and the curtain won.”
His smile broadens and he croaks, “Sounds about right.”
He turns slowly, wincing as he moves. I rush to help him and take the opportunity to inspect him carefully. Besides the huge blistering bruise, his skin is dotted with small, red flat spots. I make a mental note to read up on the signs of ITP. I’ve noticed the spots before, of course, but chalked it up to the accelerated aging caused by lupus. I help prop him up until he’s sitting up and then take a seat on his bed.
“I’m not going to ask how you feel. I can already see.”
He takes his time carefully scanning my face. “You know.”
I swallow hard and instantly deflect, “What?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t play with me, Crina. We don’t have the time. The doctor… What did he tell you?”
“He told me about ITP, internal bleeding, kidneys and liver and how you don’t want a transplant,” I blurt out.
He sighs. “So everything.”
He takes my hand in his. It’s bony, his skin paper thin and dry, but I love him so much, I just want to stare at that hand forever, memorize the way the delicate veins snake across the top. I want to memorize everything and take it with me. Take everything about him with me and hold it close to my heart until the day I die. And speaking of dying, I know that a part of me will die with him.
“Basically.”
“How do you feel?”
I smile internally. Of course, his first concern is me and how I’m managing the truth. “As would be expected.” This moment isn’t about processing my feelings. Not now. Not with him.
He nods knowingly, understanding that I’m not going to go there with him.
“Is he dead?”
My brows shoot up. Canting my head to the side, I innocently ask, “Who?”
“Alexei.” I jerk in surprise. “Just for the record, I wouldn’t have entrusted you with anyone but Marku. I know everything, Crina. You don’t need to protect me. I’m the one who should be protecting you but look at me…” he glances down at himself with disgust. “What kind of father am I?”
I grab his hand, squeeze it, and bring it to my heart. “Don’t you dare insult yourself. You’re the best father in the world. I’m the luckiest girl alive to have a dad like you. You’ve always loved me no matter what. No matter what I did. No matter how I acted. And I always knew. Will always know that you loved me completely.” Tears are falling from my eyes uncontrollably and I don’t even try to stop the flow. “I can’t stand the idea of you leaving us, but leaving without having had the chance to tell you how much I love you, how much you mean to me, would have torn me apart.”
