My Professor's Secret

33|

Christian only nods though I watch the pigment of his skin flush crimson while his eyes swell with tears. I wondered if he knew, or much less cared about the fact that his attempts at muted cries failed to fool me. But even I knew he was a lot stronger than I was. It takes a strong person to acquiesce to their emotions. Whereas Chris allowed himself to feel the emotions this tragedy provoked, I'd bottled mine up so that I could unleash it once I was certain there would be no one to witness my breakdown.

"Dad would want us to be there and I'm sure you know that without me needing to elaborate. At least that's what I will keep telling myself. If we don't go, I won't make it, Alex. He didn't let us give up when mom passed so what makes you think he'd want us to do the same after hearing from his doctors of his suspected full recovery? If lying to yourself is what it takes for you to keep going, do it, but giving up our future is not an option right now. Life goes on even if people can't continue with us. Losing mom taught us both that."

As much as I wanted that to be a lie, it isn't and I hate myself for sticking around long enough to hear him say everything I knew dad would say because I'd have to go along with it.

"If this is what we're meant to do, why does it feel impossible? Going back to school knowing our life back home is in complete shambles," I sigh. "What about the house? We can't leave it like that."

We hadn't even stopped by our own house because of how in denial we were about what dad attempted to do the last time anyone was there. That didn't seem like two adults seizing the high road to press on. Instead, it felt like an excuse to escape from the responsibility of our dad's treatment. The cleaning of brain and blood left behind in our childhood home.

"We won't," butts Lorelei. "They have professionals trained to clean up things of that nature."

"And how do you suppose my brother and I pay for those services? It's not like we have trust funds to fall back on during hard times. There's no one but us."

My statement upset her because instead of interjecting with a rebuttal, she turned her attention towards dad and sighed. Perhaps I'd been too insensitive towards her when truthfully, all she's ever tried to prove to us was her love for my dad. Before anyone else gains the courage to continue the conversation by telling me what a terrible person I was, I've already made for the exit.

In this wing of the hospital, the rooms are exponentially better as well as secluded from the chaos ramped in the emergency room. Because everyone in this wing had separate rooms with doors that shut instead of cheap curtains to block away from other patients, the corridor was pretty much silent apart from the occasional beeping of machines and light chatter from the nurses' station.

The vending machine isn't much further from dad's room. With every step further from the ICU I get, the more the intensity of the air begins to calm. At least long enough for the burden of responsibility to vanish. As I round a corner and shuffle my way through my pocket for loose change, a man standing in front of the machine gives it a debilitating kick that shakes a few snacks, though none fall out of their respective positions.

"Fuck!" he shouts, turning to round the corner but instead nearly pummels me to the ground. "Don't put your money in that machine. Fuckin' thing ate my change and kept my shit."

His face is flushed with anger as he runs a shaky hand through his hair and lets out an exacerbated sigh. I watch his jaw clench as sweat trickles off his forehead from his previous rage as he manages to sturdy my stance. He apologizes for his outburst and offers to repay the favor with a cup of coffee that I don't hesitate to accept. A little time away from my issues would put everything into perspective.

We walk the distance from the vending machine to the cafeteria with small talk. He introduces himself as Charlie; a good-looking 30-year-old, fit, blond man with a degree in agriculture. His reason for being here was his one hundred and three-year-old great aunt finally decided to linger around death's door. The doctors claimed she only had hours to live, he tells me. Before I could get the chance to explain my reason for being here, he reveals overhearing what happened as we waited in the emergency room a few days prior.