(edited)
Three days later.
Three. It has been three days since my father talked to me. It has been three days since my father told me he has cancer. It has been three days since I left the house. It has been three days since the sun came out. It has been three days since-
It has been three days.
I trace my fingertips across where my heart would be, and decide three days is long enough. My feet touch the hardwood floor of my bedroom and I shiver. Pushing myself away from the mattress, I make my way to the bathroom where my phone still lay. Shattered. Picking it up, a piece of glass nicks the pad of my thumb and a small drop of blood hits the floor. Making a mental note to patch it up later, I dial my fathers number. I played this conversation in my head thousands of times over, imagining what my father would say. My heart doesn't race. Instead, i'm greeted with the same feeling that's accompanied me these past three days. Which is no feeling at all.
The phone rings. Once. Twice. Three times. Fou-
"Tyler?"
I offer no response.
"Tyler." A sob forces its way out of my father.
"Dad." I say so quietly and so gently it's almost not a word. My eyes slip shut and my father gives me an address.
"I'm staying at the hospital closest to our house. I'll be undergoing surgery to remove the tumor from my lungs, and then inpatient chemo to kill what they can't cut out." My father rambles, spewing out words because he remembers that I like to know right away what's going on instead of being suspended without information. Except, this time I didn't want to be given information. I wanted him to answer the phone and tell me it was a nightmare.
"I'll buy a plane ticket." I state monotonously, taking into account that my father now lives in Washington and I never had the guts to leave Columbus.
---
I arrive at the airport at eleven fifteen p.m. Exactly one hour before my plane will leave for Washington. The airport is a harsh magenta. It's not actually magenta, it's just the way it feels. Uncontrollable and uncomfortable.
It's eleven thirty when a man with a backpack and a questionable airport sandwich sits next to me.
"Want a bite?"
I look up, wondering why he chose the seat next to me when there were several other open ones.
"I'm Joshua." The man continues.
Still confused, I turn to look at the man. I quickly note his hair color, eye color, freckles, dimples, skin tone, teeth, lips, and ears. I'm not judging him, just trying to capture him incase this is the only time I see him.
"Tyler." I give him a simple response. Waiting to see what he has to say. Suspended without information. I hate it.
"Well Tyler," He begins, putting emphasis on my name.
"I want you to know that there were several open seats that I could have chosen to sit in. However, I felt compelled to sit next to the man with soft brown eyes, fragile hands, and pale skin. I think my choice to sit here has paid off because, I just learned the name of possibly the most attractive person that this planet has to offer."
Taken aback is an understatement. I am absolutely terrified of this man. Josh. Joshua. I am so terrified of his words and what he said. I wanted to hear more. I begin to count the freckles that adorn his features.
"Joshua. You are terrifying." I did not think when I chose to say these words.
"I love it." I also did not think when these words came out of my mouth.
---
(634 words)
