by Vivian Wood
“No,” Addy said as she shook her head. “No.”
“Also, we tested his gamma-glutamyl transpeptidase, or GGT, which is an enzyme linked to the liver. His levels are extremely high, which is another sign of toxic alcohol levels as well as cholestatic damage.”
“I don’t know what all that means,” Addy said.
“It furthers my diagnosis that I believe your father is moving swiftly into late stage liver damage coupled with cardiomyopathy that can lead to a heart attack at any moment.”
“How… how could I not know?” she asked. “He seemed fine, just the other day…”
“It’s not your fault,” Jack said.
The doctor flipped through his notes. “It says here in his charts that Mr. Fuller was here two days ago complaining of chest pains. And that you saw him, Dr. Stratton.”
The doctor looked at Jack curiously.
“What?” Addy dropped his hand and turned to Jack. “Is this true?”
“Addy, I—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Your father asked me not to, and I—I couldn’t, Addy. Legally.”
“So, what, you just sent him on his merry way? He’s dying, Jack! And he was here asking for your help, what, two days ago? This is your fault!” she screamed, and in the darkest corner of her heart she believed it.
“Addy, his blood work came back fine—”
“Yeah, well, apparently you weren’t supposed to be testing his fucking blood, Jack! It was his liver. This doctor figured it out.”
“Addy! Jack! Oh my God, is everything okay? Where is he?” Kenzie came barreling down the hall in a barely-there minidress, barefoot with heels in her hands and last night’s makeup streaked across her face.
“No, it’s not!” Addy yelled.
“What—”
“You deal with this,” she said, and shoved the printouts the doctor had given her into Kenzie’s hands. “Both of you, you fucking deal with this for once.”
“Addy—” Jack started, but she was already half-running down the hall.
“What happened?” she could hear Kenzie call.
“Addy!” Jack caught up to her outside. She wasn’t aware there were tears that poured down her face until he grabbed her elbow and spun her around. “Calm down! I know you’re upset, but—”
“Calm down? Don’t tell me to calm down! That’s my dad, Jack! And I left him, I… I fucking moved out and stopped taking care of him so I could play house with you. How ridiculous is that?”
“This isn’t my fault—”
“Then whose fault is it, Jack?”
He opened his mouth, but she held up her hand.
“Don’t you dare say it’s mine.”
Jack took a deep breath. “Addy, you stay here.”
“What?”
“You stay. Go talk to Kenzie. I’ll leave.”
“Where are you go—”
“Stay with your family. I’ll leave,” he repeated.
Before she could ask anything else, he turned on his heels and walked into the parking lot.
“Addy! What happened?” Kenzie was at her side and pulled at her arm. “Is Dad okay? Did I do this?”
Addy sucked in her breath.
“It’s not your fault,” she told Kenzie halfheartedly. She wrapped an arm around her sister and escorted her back inside.
A voice deep inside her already mourned what she’d done to Jack.
Fuck, she thought, there’s no way he’s coming back now.
29
I’m sorry,” Kenzie sniffed.
“Stop saying that,” Addy said.
“But I am!”
“Kenzie, we’ve been here for five hours and you must have said it five hundred times. Dad was an alcoholic, okay? Is. He would have destroyed his liver whether you went out last night or not.”
“But I could have been there,” Kenzie whined. “I could have cut him off, maybe—”
“When’s the last time Dad let anyone get between him and his whiskey?” Addy asked.
As she tried to calm Kenzie down, she had to admit it worked for her, too. Being forced to be reasonable for Kenzie’s sake made her see things from a different perspective.
It’s not our job to be his caretaker, to tell him when and what he can drink.
“Addison and Kenzie Fuller?” A nurse they hadn’t spoken to before approached them. Her shoes clicked against the linoleum.
“Yes?” Addy asked as Kenzie jumped up.
“The doctor has approved family visitors, but only for a few minutes. Your dad’s awake, but very groggy.” The nurse touched Addy’s forearm. “Just a warning. He doesn’t look very good and he might be… confused.”
Kenzie shot her a look. Confused and doesn’t look good. We’re used to that.
But the nurse’s warning didn’t prepare her for what she saw. Their dad had so many wires that popped out of him he looked part machine. His watery blue eyes shot toward them as they entered, but he didn’t move his head.
“Addison? MacKenzie?” he asked, as if he weren’t certain.
“It’s us, Dad,” Kenzie said and rushed toward him.
Another nurse that had been checking his vitals glanced at them.
“You’re his daughters?” she asked. Addy nodded. “I’ll give you a couple of minutes, but I need to come back soon to finish up.”
“My heart…” he said, but Addy shook her head.
“It doesn’t matter.”
His eyes glazed over and although he looked in her direction, it was like he looked straight through her. “Thirsty …”
“Here, Dad,” Kenzie said, and held up a paper cup of water by his bed. “There’s water right here.”
He shook his head slightly, but it looked pained. “Drink …”
“Yeah, Dad, there’s water right here,” Kenzie said. “Do you want me to hold it up for you?”
“Bottle…”
“He wants whiskey, Kenzie,” Addy snapped.
Her dad nodded vigorously.
“Oh. No, Dad, sorry. You’re in the hospital. You can’t have that here. Try the water…”
He gathered up a reserve of strength and knocked it out of her sister’s hand. “Dad, stop!” Addy said.
“Janice?” For a moment his eyes cleared and locked on Addy’s.
“Dad—” she started.
“Janice, so beautiful.”
“He thinks you’re Mom,” Kenzie whispered loudly.
“Yeah, I get that, Kenzie. Dad, Mom is—”
“Where the girls, Jan?”
“Dad—”
“Addy and Kenzie, they okay?”
Addy felt tears well at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back. “They’re good,” she said. “Addy and Kenzie are fine.”
“Where… Jan, where are they? Want to see them…”
“They’re on the way. They’re coming right now.”
“Okay. That’s good,” he said. “Janice, you look real pretty.”
“Thanks,” Addy said. She looked to Kenzie, but her sister was frozen. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Tired,” he said.
“You should rest. Get some sleep.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“I love you, too,” Addy said as she forced the waver out of her voice.
“I love you, Dad,” Kenzie said.
As her sister touched his shoulder, the machines started to blare. The nurse rushed into the room with another nurse in pink scrubs on her heels.
“BP is dropping,” she said as she lifted his arm and punched a pattern into the machine. The nurse barked to the pink-suited nurse, “Get a doctor.”
“What’s happening?” Kenzie cried. “Is he okay? What’s—”
“I need you both to wait outside,” the nurse said. She barely looked up.
“No! We’re not—”
“Outside now.” Addy grabbed her sister’s arm and dragged her into the hallway.
“Addy, stop! Dad needs
us! He’s—”
“Dad’s gone, Kenzie,” Addy said.
She listened to Kenzie blubber and sob. “How do you know? They didn’t say that. You can’t give up on him…”
Addy guided Kenzie toward the corner of the waiting room and wrapped her arm around her. Kenzie cried into her shoulder, soaked her shirt. For some reason it reminded her of when they were kids and one of the neighbors had cut off Kenzie’s favorite Barbie’s hair into a mohawk.
As tears tracked down her face, she thought of how she’d been strong for Kenzie then. Damn if she wouldn’t do the same now.
“Addison? MacKenzie?” The same older doctor that had met her with Jack loomed over them. “I’m sorry, but your father’s heart stopped. We tried everything to revive him, but it was just too weakened by the cardiomyopathy.”
Kenzie began to keen, and Addy massaged her shoulder gently.
“Thank you for trying,” Addy said, holding in a sob.
“If it’s any consolation, he went quick and painlessly. If it weren’t for the heart condition… cirrhosis is often a very long, drawn-out and painful disease. It… I hope this doesn’t sound crude, but it could be seen as a blessing.”
“A blessing?” Kenzie said as she looked up from Addy’s shirt. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
The doctor stiffened and looked away. “Someone will be by soon to talk about next steps with you.”
“Thanks,” Addy said quietly.
“Next steps? What does he mean next steps?” Kenzie asked.
“I mean… I guess… what to do with the body? I don’t know, I’ve never done this before.”
“What… what do we do with it?” Kenzie asked.
“I don’t know,” Addy repeated.
Two hours passed, and both girls cried most of their tears out. Addy felt hollow and empty, like a dishrag that had been wrung out.
Finally, with Kenzie’s nagging, Addy approached the receptionist.
“Excuse me? My father just… just died. And we were told to wait—”
“Yes, Mrs. Stratton,” the receptionist said. “The hospital mortician is on his way right now to get you.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Addy examined the woman’s face, but she didn’t recognize her. But clearly, the woman knew her as Jack’s wife.
When she returned to Kenzie, there was a thin, pale, balding man standing over her. The epitome of a mortician.
“Addison Fuller?” he asked and turned to her.
“Yes.” She was taken aback by his sharp features.
“I’m Craig Sanders, the hospital mortician on duty. The remains have been transported to the on-site mortuary. I’ll need one or both of you to formally identify the body.”
“Identify… yeah, it’s our dad,” Kenzie said. “We were literally in there talking to him when he… when he…”
“I understand this seems strange and outdated, but it’s required,” Mr. Sanders said.
“Oh, um, okay?”
“Follow me.” He walked at a surprisingly fast pace that made both of them half jog after him.
It had only been a few hours, but their father’s body looked almost cartoonishly lifeless. Addy had always thought the dead would look like they were sleeping, but that wasn’t the case.
It was almost magical how obvious it was that there was no life left. Kenzie let out a small cry, but no tears fell. She was all cried out.
“Is this your father’s body, Theodore Fuller?” Mr. Sanders asked.
“Yes,” Addy said.
“Sign here.”
She scribbled her name where he pointed, unaware of what the paper said. Kenzie reached out to their father’s arm as she handed the pen back.
“Don’t touch him, Kenzie,” she said quickly.
“Why not?”
“Your sister’s probably right,” Mr. Sanders said. “It can be disorienting. Cold and stiff. But you’re welcome to, if you’d like.”
Kenzie shivered. “Never mind.”
“This way,” Mr. Sanders said, and escorted them into what looked like any other office. It could have been a CPA’s or attorney’s.
“So, what’s next?” Addy said. She was comforted by kicking into planning mode.
“Are you working with a funeral director?” Mr. Sanders asked.
Kenzie let out a strange laugh.
“No,” Addy said. “We weren’t… exactly planning this—”
“I understand. Is there a specific church or other faith-based institute you’d like to handle the final proceedings?”
“No,” Addy said. “Dad isn’t—wasn’t—religious.”
“That’s fine. Do you know if your father had a will? Or other legal document that stipulated his wishes?”
“I… I don’t know,” Addy said. “I don’t think so. But, he’d want to be buried next to Mom.”
“Yeah,” Kenzie said. She nodded quickly. “Next to Mom.”
“Alright, and do you know the name of the cemetery or mausoleum?”
“It’s just the one on the hill,” Addy said. “You know? The big one.”
“And what was your mother’s name?”
“Janice Fuller.”
“Alright.” Mr. Sanders made a note. “Addison, are you the administrator of your father’s estate?”
“I… I guess so?”
“Will the body be cremated prior to burial?”
“Is that something I have to decide now?”
“Not right away. But the doctor on staff does need to know. It’s required information on the medical certificate so you can register the death. Registration is required within five days.”
Addy looked toward Kenzie.
“Yeah,” her sister said. “Cremation. He… I don’t want him to be buried where all the bugs and… just cremate him. Okay?”
“Okay,” Addy said. “Cremation.”
“Alright,” Mr. Sanders said and made another note. “Do you know if your father would have wanted his organs donated prior to cremation?”
“I, uh, I don’t think he felt strongly about that,” Addy said.
“I don’t know if anyone would want them,” Kenzie said quietly.
“Kenzie!”
“That’s a common mistake,” Mr. Sanders said quickly. “Quite a bit of remains can be utilized for donation. Tissue, corneas—”
“We get it,” Addy said. “Well, I guess? I mean, yes, you have my permission if there’s anything… you know, that can be used…”
“Alright, then,” Mr. Sanders said. “If you’d like, the hospital works with an excellent funeral director who can serve as the liaison. He can set up arrangements with the cemetery, discuss memorial options with you if that would be of interest, and recommend bereavement counseling.”
“Thanks,” Addy said.
“Right this way, and we’ll get you the medical certificate and connect you with the funeral director.”
30
Addy’s hands shook as she zipped up the black dress. It had been her mother’s, and she’d forgotten about it entirely.
Only after she’d dismissed everything in her closet as not formal enough—and everything in Kenzie’s closet as too suggestive—did she venture into her parents’ old bedroom. Shoved in the far back was the knee-length black cocktail dress with sleeves to the elbow and a square neckline trimmed in pearls.
When she’d found it, she brought the dress to her face and inhaled. Part of her thought that, somehow, it would still smell like her mom. But it smelled of nothing at all.
“Addy, can you zip me up?” Kenzie wandered into the room in a slinky black dress that barely covered her ass.
Black fishnet stockings hugged her legs.
“Is that what you—sure,” Addy corrected herself. Kenzie held up her auburn hair as Addy squeezed her sister into the dress.
“Thanks,” Kenzie said, and disappeared down the hall.
“We leave in twenty!” Addy called after her.
She looked in the mirror and gasped. Her mother sta
red back at her. Even with the dark circles under her eyes from the past five days of fitful sleep, she couldn’t deny it.
Actually, it made her look even more like her mother. So many of her memories involved her mother being sick, and those dark half moons below her eyes were eerily familiar.
Addy had been shocked at how quickly the hospital and the funeral director had pulled everything together. It was also so matter-of-fact and professional. Of course, that made sense. It was a business, and her father’s death was one of scores they probably handled every week.
With Kenzie by her side, they’d been herded through countless questions and options. Addy had steeled herself in preparation for avoiding the common pitfalls she’d heard about.
Funeral directors that tried to guilt grieving daughters into upgrading to a ten-thousand-dollar cherry wood coffin because “their loved one deserved it.” Addy knew she wouldn’t fall for the trap, but she had no idea how Kenzie would react.
Fortunately, the funeral director at the hospital was far from a salesperson. She simply stated the starting options and was always upfront about prices. The only issue Kenzie struggled with was the coffin.
“He’s cremated, Kenz,” Addy had said.
“So?” Kenzie had looked to the funeral director for confirmation. “Cremated people can still have coffins, can’t they?”
“You can certainly do whatever you like. Coffin or no coffin, but both are possible.”
“Kenzie, what’s the point in a coffin?”
“Mom had a coffin,” Kenzie pointed out.
“How did you—I didn’t think you remembered that.”
“You didn’t think I remembered Mom’s funeral?”
“We’ll take a coffin,” Addy had said.
“May I recommend the basic model?” the funeral director asked, keenly aware of Addy’s trepidation about the process. “It will serve the purpose just fine for the memorial service, and of course if you’d like to work with a florist they can accommodate as well.”
“Sure,” Addy said. “Let’s do that.”
“As for the remains, an option with cremation is to bury part of the remains and keep part. Is that something you’re interested in?”
