Misconduct

twenty three | soon you'll get better

But this stammer? This is entirely different. This isn't nerves or excitement, anticipation or anxiety.

My voice is shaking because I'm scared. Scared to lose my father, my best friend. Scared of what a world without him in it looks like. Scared of what will happen to the rest of my family- how my Mom and siblings will cope.

I'm terrified. To my very core I am terrified.

"It's time, darling." Mom repeats in a whisper. "They said to prepare for the worse. They said it's- it's-"

Her words are cut short by a choked sob, a pained scream almost. It's a sound i've only ever heard my Mom make twice before in my life. The first was back when my Grandpa died, I was only 9. The second time was when my Dad received his diagnosis, I was 15.

"It's time to say goodbye?" I finish for her, screwing my eyes tightly shut like that will protect me from this damn nightmare.

Maybe if I close my eyes, it won't be real. That's what I told my Dad when he got hospitalised. That's what I promised him I'd do to keep him healthy.

I feel the mattress shift its weight as Logan joins me on the edge of the bed, his fingers slowly curling around my knee in an attempt to comfort me.

He doesn't even know what's happening right now. But he knows its bad. And he knows that I need him right now.

And i'm ashamed to admit that I do. I really, really, do.

"P-Please just come." Mom cries down the phone.

I can picture her so vividly. Standing in the hospital waiting room, most likely in one of her better sets of silk pyjamas, with her hair scraped back into a low bun and her eyes still foggy with sleep. I'd bet good money that she took the time to apply some mascara- in my 20 years on this Earth I've never seen her without it- and I just know she would have sprayed an extra bit of perfume on before coming.

I like to think it's because she's hopeful. That she semi-dolls herself up for the hospital because she hopes that it will finally be the day that Dad has enough strength to open his eyes. She probably wants to look her best for him.

I know that her tears will cause her eyes to be a much clearer blue; a colour eerily similar to mine. Sadly, it's the only time my Mother and I ever look alike, when she's crying.

She'll be fussing around my Dad's bedside, no doubt making passive aggressive comments to the nurses and scrutinising their every move with her untrained eye. That's by far her favourite pass time- dishing out unqualified, unsolicited advice.

But above all else, I can only begin to imagine how broken her heart is right now. How scared she must be. Because my Mom is many things: overbearing, often insensitive, occasionally self-absorbed and always a nitpicker. But she also has the biggest heart.

And that heart beats for my Dad. All for him. It has for all 25 years of their marriage.

"Mom." I whisper, my voice crackling with unleashed emotion. "Is he going to die?"

Logan's fingers tighten around my knee. I'm here. He tells me with all but a gently squeeze. He doesn't need to use any words to get his message across, I understand loud and clear.

And I have never been more grateful for his presence than I am right now.

"I-" Mom shudders down the phone and I know a chill just ran down her spine at the mere thought. "I-I think so, baby. I think so."

I nod, my entire body falling numb and limp. I can't find it in myself to reply- or move even. I can only screw my eyes shut tighter and pray to God for this nightmare to end.