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The doctors confirm that my dad had a heart attack, a common complication of lung cancer, likely due to being in a state of distress.
My drive home from the hospital is emotional; I’m so incredibly furious with my dad, and yet, I hate seeing him sick. I want him to be okay. And above all else, I’m desperate to talk to Sterling. She’s the one person who I’d want to run to at a time like this, and I’ve completely fucked it up.
It’s highly likely that she'll move out of my house, and I’ll never see her again. But she asked for space, and I want to respect that.
I think back to that night. How my dad called me and delivered his death note. And the way I drowned myself in alcohol before attempting to drive myself home.
Then I hit her.
I was so incredibly selfish that night.
Tears fill my eyes at the memory.
As I pull into the driveway of my family’s estate, shakiness overcomes me, and all of the emotions flood my body at once.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I scream as my fists match rhythm with my words, slamming down into the steering wheel. This is all my fault. If Sterling never forgives me for this, I don’t know what I’m going to do, but the only person I can blame is myself.
It takes everything in me not to call her or go see her. Minutes turn into hours. The hours turn into days.
It’s been the longest four days of my life, since I’ve last spoken to Sterling. Going into work without her feels meaningless. But there’s really nowhere else for me to go. If I’m not at work or my parent’s house, I’m at the hospital. And though I’m pissed at my dad, he’s still my dad. The downfall of opening up my heart is realizing that there’s a part of me that still cares about my dad and wants him to somehow overcome this.
I pull into the hospital parking lot for the third time this week and every time it gets harder. I know this is where they took Sterling. To know that she was here struggling after what I’d done makes me sick. But I find a way to suppress the feeling as I enter the emergency unit and sign in to go visit my dad.
“Heard he’s doing better today,” the receptionist says to me as she prints a visitor sticker.
“That’s good to hear.” I take the sticker from her.
“Visiting hours end in about forty-five minutes.”
“Thank you,” I say before turning to head to his room.
I walk around the corner to see Virginia sitting on a chair just outside of the waiting room down the hall.
“Hey, Ginny,” I offer as I approach her.
“Hey, Cal.”
“Oh, she talks today,” I attempt a joke, but I instantly regret it when she shoots daggers at me with her sharp brown eyes.
“It’s been four days, Cal. Is dad going to get to leave soon?” She looks up at me, water begging to break behind her lashes.
I sit down in the chair next to her and wrap my arm around her back and pull her into me. As soon as she’s huddled in my embrace, she cries. I feel for her. She has also been affected by so much these past few months. Finding out at fifteen that your dad isn’t actually your dad has to be life-altering. And as close with him as she was, I’m sure it only became more painful when she learned that he’s sick.
“Listen, Virginia. I’m not sure things will get better. But I promise I’ll always be there for you. No matter what.” I press a kiss into her hair.
“I just want this all to end. I want everyone to be happy again.” She pulls herself out of my embrace and swipes at the tears on her cheeks.
“Me too, sis.”
“Hey, kiddos,” Mom’s voice breaks through the air. “Callan, Dad would like to see you.” She approaches the chairs and offers me a small smile as we trade places.
Walking into my dad’s room feels different this time. Because even though I’ve been here every day since the accident, I haven’t actually talked to him.
I turn the corner and enter his room. His bed is angled so that he’s sitting up slightly, watching the evening news on TV.
“Hey,” I murmur.
“Son,” he responds, groggy and tired.
