Storyteller

Chapter 10

Faith POV: 

Tim stumbles around the question for a good five minutes. I know it's been somewhere in the ball park of fourteen years that my memory has skipped over. I'm prepared to hear whatever happened, no matter how drastic. Tim's hand rests on the back of my head, keeping me pulled in close. That's something that's new. He used to always have his hands around my waist, and we'd sleep practically nose to nose. Now my head lays on his chest, and I kinda like it. It feels a little more natural for some odd reason. 

"Tim, if he's dead, just say so." I finally croak out, sounding exhausted. He nods slowly, biting his lip. 

"He had lung cancer. Diagnosed the day after Maggie was born, died the day after we told him that we were pregnant with Audrey... He lived with us when he was really sick, because he would refuse to eat otherwise." He says, curling my hair with his finger. "My god, that killed you. You were the one who forced him to go in to the doctor in the first place, and the one who forced him to go through with chemo. And in the end you were the one who found him after he passed..." My chest hurts as I try not to think about it. He was too strong to get sick. 

"Did he go fast?" I ask, knowing that lung cancer is a slow, nasty disease. Tim's going to lie to me, I'm sure of it. 

"Yeah, Honey." He lies, growing tense. "He made you cry a lot. I had some... interesting talks with him." He swallows hard and takes a deep breath. "Tough man, but he was a good guy... He was good to you, and good to me when he didn't have to be." He says to my surprise. Tim and my father got along on rare occasions, normally when it was in my best interest. Tim was the boy stealing cinderella.

"I'm tired." I admit, feeling my eyelids grow heavy. I feel Tim smile, as he rubs between my eyebrows again. 

"Go ahead and get some sleep." He whispers, kissing my forehead. 

My father is laying in bed, staring out the window. He releases a raspy cough as I walk into the room with a handful of pills. I place them in his hand, and hand him a glass of water, which he chases the pills with. He hands me the glass back, after taking a large gulp. He continues to cough as I sit down beside him and squeeze his hand. 

"You gotta eat today, Daddy." I say, placing my hand on his shoulder. He shakes his head, looking at me with exhausted eyes. He places his hand on his collarbone as he starts to speak. 

"It hurts too much, baby..." He releases, panting. I frown, and swallow hard, trying to keep myself from crying. He's stick thin, and close to emaciated. 

"I know it does, but you've got to eat." I start to plead, feeling a little helpless. He shakes his head again. He mouths the word 'No', making me feel a little light headed. Tim walks in the room with a tray full of soup and a few saltines on the side, making my stomach churn. His hair has mostly fallen out, and his skin is dry, wrinkled, and pale. 

"Alright, Pops." Tim says, pulling up a chair, and setting the tray down on a nightstand beside my father's head. My father looks at the tray and cringes. It hurts him when he has to swallow, but he refuses to get a feeding tube. 

Tears slip from my eyes as I watch my father dodge the spoon Tim holds. Tim spots my tears, and places the spoon carefully back in the bowl. He rubs the back of his neck, and looks down at my father. 

"I got this, baby. Why don't you go check on Maggie?" He suggests, dismissing me. Once I leave the room, Tim picks the spoon up again, and tries to work it into my father's mouth. He refuses to eat once more. "Come on Hank, please..." Tim pleads. 

"It hurts." My father says, lightly patting his chest. Tim cocks his head, and looks at  him sympathetically. 

"I know it does... But in order for you to get painkillers, you have to eat. There's no other way around it." He says, placing his hand on my father's arm. My father nods slowly, and takes a hollow breath. He allows Tim to feed him, and tries to hide the tears as he swallows. Tim gives him time between spoonfuls, and talks to my father on a various array of subjects. "The other night, I was having trouble falling asleep, remember?" He asks my father. My father nods, slowly forcing the soup down his throat. He cringes, as he successfully swallows the first spoonful. 

"The song. You finish it?" My father asks, taking a saltine of the tray and nibbling on it a bit. Tim nods, digging a slip of paper out of his pocket. He hands him the slip, and allows my father to read the lyrics.  "It's good." My father says, unwrinkling the paper. 

"You're the one who wrote the chorus. I just fumbled through the verses." Tim laughs, expressing his bright smile. My father smiles too, nibbling a little more on the cracker. "Tell me more about her." Tim requests, leaning forward in his chair. My father shrugs, and look at Tim. 

"I loved her as much as you love Faith. I mean, she practically is her mother. She has some of my tendencies, but she's hardheaded and unconditional, just like her mother." My father says, looking down at his hands. "She used to do this thing when we'd argue, where she'd kinda cringe and swallow hard at the same time before she'd completely break down in tears. I always knew that if I wanted to fix a situation, I had to do it in that small amount of time between the tears and when she'd do that cringe-swallow thing. I've already seen Faith use that one on you a few times." He laughs. 

"Did you and her argue a lot?" Tim asks, cocking his head a bit. My father nods. 

"We never really agreed on anything. That's probably why she took off for another man, but we both agreed that we loved Faith, and that we'd do anything to make her happy." My father smiles brightly, looking over at Tim. Tim smiles too. "She had some demons catch up with her, and she started drinking. Her priorities were thrown off, and she stopped talking to Faith. That doesn't change how I feel toward her. I still love her with every last breath in my body." My father smiles harder.

"You okay?" Tim asks, shaking me awake. I look around to see it's eleven in the afternoon, and we are still in bed. I nod, feeling short of breath. "You were shaking." He says, pulling me in close. 

"I had a dream about Dad." I admit, trying to catch my breath. "You guys were talking about my mom and a song you two wrote?" I say, guessing it's just a dream. Tim stares a me. 

"That was the day before he died." He informs me. "That's the only time he ever opened up to me about your mother, was the day before he died." I feel chills run down my arms. 

"Have you heard from her?" I ask cautiously. Tim bites his lip, and shrugs, not wanting to answer the question. 

"I mean, yeah... But it wasn't..." He stops and takes a deep breath. "She came to your father's funeral. She then relapsed that weekend and got so wasted she couldn't see straight." Tim admits, massaging my head. My chest grows tight as I think about the last time I remember seeing her...

I think I was fourteen, standing out in the rain with Tim while my parents screamed at each other inside. She kicked me out because she thought Tim wasn't good enough for me. My father saw that he cared about me, but she didn't, so she kicked me out, threw my stuff out the window, and screamed that I was a whore, all because I kissed Tim one day after school. I remember Tim's arm was around me as I sobbed, hearing my mother trash me to my father. 

I remember a week after she took off, Tim and I were walking from school when we were mugged. The guys were heroin addicts, and had a handgun on them. They threatened to shoot me if Tim didn't hand over car keys, but we were too young to drive. We had no keys to give them, so the men shot me in the stomach, leaving us on the side of state route 852, completely surrounded but nothing but corn.  That's what we thought caused all the miscarriages...  I was fourteen... 

"He said that she loved me." I whisper into Tim's chest. Tim nods, and shuts his eyes. He takes a few deep breaths, before rubbing my back. 

"I'm sure she did, baby." He tries to assure me. I cringe, feeling a little disgusted. 

"Then why did she completely abandon me?" I start to cry, feeling Tim hold me tighter. "Do you know how horrified I was? I had nothing besides you and my father... I had nobody to show me how to grow up or how to be a mother... I had no one." I cry out, trembling harder than I was prepared for. Tim hushes me, and kisses my forehead. 

"You still have me." He whispers. "I'm right here..."