The Optimist

thirty

"You were just weak seeing your Dad like that. Nadia would've done the same, but she was strong. She's really holding through." From across Nathan's spacious hospital room, Mom beams at me.

"Uh, thanks Mom?" I giggie, holding Jacob's hand.

"You get to leave tomorrow, but before we do, were want to visit your father, alright?" Nathan nods. "I'm leaving Lucille here with you. We just met her too, so, don't feel as if you know nothng about her, becase we mostly don't either. I want you to to bond." Mom's firm demanding voice is a sweet one. She stands up, ready to exit the room.

Nathan nods as she pushes Lucille with light ease toward him. She's reluctant at first, almost stuttering on her toes as she nervously eases towards Nathan's bed with Mom's gentle, cooing assistance. Mom looks at me and Jacob expectantly, like she wants something. Which, she does.

She wants me to see Dad.

Walking through the heavily disinfected hallway, we pass by patients lurking within them. One man belches and rubs his big belly, his graying her sitting aloof as he smiles at me. I pull closer to Jacob nervously. He silently welcomes me with an arm around my waist. After what seemed to be a trip around the whole hospital (we only went up a few floors, but it took longer than it should've), we finally reach the door of Dad's room.

Mom nods at me expectantly. Jacob smiles and rubs my back. I look down and take a deep breath. I feel like I'm about to compete for something, but in reality, the only thing I'm competing for is my sanity. Oh, God knows, I'm on the brink of going crazy if Dad isn't okay.

As soon as I step in the room, I instantly regret it. Dad resembles much like the lady I passed earlier, and it makes my stomach churn in guilt and sadness. I want to turn around, run away even, because seeing my Dad this way almost makes me depressed.

I turn to grasp Jacob's shirt and step back unsteadily. He buries his head in the crook of my neck, gazing at Dad. Our extra clothing, my scarf and his, pillow out neck as we somewhat.. cuddle. It feels delightfully weird.

"It's okay." He breathes into my ear soothingly. I know it's not okay, it's not! Dad isn't even recognizable. A white bandage is wrapped tightly over his stomach and torso multiple times and fingers each have something pricking them. I instantly feel the pain he should be feeling.

"Ah, Mr. Crestfield?"

Behind us, a doctor in a draping white lab coat approaches us. She smiles and tucks the clipboard along her arm, accompanying her side. Her hair is in down, dark and long, sifting down her back. I cling to Jacob a bit harder, but he doesn't complain, only nods toward the doctor as she grabs a pen from her pocket, clicking it open.

"I assume you're his..." She pauses, raising a brow at Mom, "wife?"

Mom smiles, nodding. I'm sure she's tired of smiling, her cheeks in more pain than Dad is in. She retrieves the clipboard again and writes it down before approaching Mom to and shake hands. "Yes, yes, Misty Crestfield. Thank you." Mom appreciates, letting go. I don't know why she thanks her, maybe because she's nervous, ten times more than I am.

Jacob pulls me close as she asks me. "Daughter." I rush out quietly and she smiles.

"N-Nadia.. Crestfield," I mumble, gazing down. I bite my lip, hoping no one sees. Jacob lets go of me and walks toward the doctor, Dr. Felecia Morgan, according to her small silver plated name tag clipped to her lab coat.

"And you?"

"Daughter's boyfriend," he boasts, smiling. We all are sent into a fit of laughter and it feels good. Good to laugh again, even for a brief moment, to release some stress. That's exactly Jacob's goal. "Jacob Perez." He adds when the laughter dies down.

"It's nice meeting you, I'm Dr. Morgan. I'm sure you want to hear on the condition of your husband, yeah?" She talks likes she British, but with a normal accent like all of us. We all nod and she walks us the short distance across Dad's (also spacious) room.

He looks worse up close, of course, but it's expected. He has a blood and water pouch above him that connect to unseen wires on his body.

"As you know, he's suffering from internal compulsive bleeding in his back. What you probably didn't know is that, unfortunately, it's been going on for quite some time. It's caused clots and probably major pain for him." She says.

And me, too.

"This means that we can't drain all of it out, because it's needed, but we don't know, as bad as it sounds, which areas have bad blood that need to be removed by drainage."

I understand half of what she's saying, but the rest only goes in one ear and out the other. What she does say, what actually stays in my brain, are the good things that she says about his health condition, which are very few words.

I don't know why, but the atmosphere seems to be suffocating me. The room drops another weight on my shoulder, and every part of the room seemed to make it dreary and dark.

I take a breath in, steadily, and release myself from Jacob's grip. 'Excuse me," I mumble.

"No, Nadia," he whispers, careful not to disrupt the doctor's explanation. I can feel his stare again, but still I walk. I sit outside Dad's room gloomily, the cool air of the hallway giving me life again. It feels good, but to enjoy it without Jacob makes it a little worse.

"Hey! You again." I hear a raspy grumble from a distance, followed by coughing laughter. It sounds painful. I look toward the direction of the shouting and I realize it's the old man who grinned at me earlier. I ignore him. Maybe he's delusional or something and that's why he's here in the hospital where he belongs.

"Hey! Come here girl. Come talk to me." He smiles, and I watch as he lifts a red-tanned, hairy arm and covers another cough, rougher this time. I sit and debate for a minute, deciding which is best, but before I know it, I'm on my feet and walking toward the hallway.

Maybe, just maybe, I can tell this old man my problems. Maybe, just maybe, I can trust him.