Endless pain?

Endless pain? Chapter 18

One cut.

Two cut.

Three cut.

Four.

Five cut.

Six cut.

Seven cuts mo-

"Isi? You done with the veg?"

My father interrupts me from my daydream, whilst I finish off cutting the veg.

Thoughts of nothing and everything consumed my mind.

"Yeah dada, just about. Here you go" I respond gathering the mixed veg and giving it to my dada.

My father and I were having some 'bonding time', as referred to by my dada, and we were cooking a pasta bake with homemade cheesecake for dessert.

"Thank you baby. I can't wait for the pasta to be made, especially since it's going to be spicy. I haven't had anything with spicy flavour for so long"

"Yeah, and don't expect to either dada. I'll be making the pasta along side you, ensuring that we put the right amount of salt, peppers or chillies in. You know you can't have chillies" I reply, whilst raising my eyebrow. Knowing that my dada knows not to discuss or debate with me.

He sighs heavily, yet dramatically whilst looking longingly at the draws where the chillies, herbs, seasonings be.

"I guess I'll have to sneak you in" he whispers knowing very well that I can clearly hear him.

"Well good luck with that" I roll my eyes smirking.

My father let's out a hearty laugh and says "yes mother. I guess I'll have to wait for another life or something to have the chillies"

I feel my heart beat increase at his words. 'Another life'.

Knowing what he meant. I didn't like him talking like this. Each time he does it's like a punch to my gut.

Knowing that time is limited, yet my fathers talking about it so easily. It's affects us both but still my father talks about it like that.

I'm suddenly brought out of my trance when I hear my father coughing loudly.

I pour a glass of water and give it to him whilst I rub his back.

"Do you want to go lie down?" I ask feeling disheartened.

This has been happening more frequently, therefore I was quite used to this. Despite it affecting me, I had to stay strong for him.

"N-no I'll be fine" my father responds catching his breath back whilst coughing slightly.

I guide him to the table and sit him down.

"When's your next chemotherapy dada?" I ask quietly.

Normally I go with him to chemo, but I always have to wait outside.

My dada won't let me go in with him and if he could, he wouldn't let me go with him full stop.

He says he doesn't want me to see him like that. Knowing how it would affect me. But I hated feeling so useless. Not being able to do anything for him.

"Thursday baby"

So in five days.

My dada looks lost in his thoughts and a look of pain yet bravery masks his features.

"Oh. Urm I'll check the pasta sauce"

I move to the gas, where the pasta sauce is cooking.

Where countless times my fathers had his coughing fits at.