by M. S. Willis
“My leg feels like someone slammed into it with a sledgehammer, and my head. I was walking in here and my damn leg gave out from underneath me.”
I had to stop the bleeding on his head until help could arrive. “Don’t move. I’m going to go get a towel for your head. Help is on the way.”
Pushing up from my crouched position, I faintly heard my dad bitching about help having been called, but I didn’t care. I was in full panic mode and I would call in an entire army if it would help. Running back, I placed the towel under his head and breathed out a sigh of relief to see that it didn’t immediately soak up a lot of blood. I prayed that meant the injury was superficial. Lilly ran back inside.
“They’re on their way.” Taking a position next to me, she looked like she wanted to reach out and help but she was too afraid to move. She didn’t ask any questions, but just sat quietly beside me until we heard the sirens from the approaching ambulance.
~ ~ ~
“It appears Mr. James’ leg broke from a tumor that had developed in the femur and weakened the bone. It’s a painful break, but it can be managed with pain killers.” The doctor paused and looked at me.
“So, are they going to take him into surgery tonight to fix it?” It was simple. A broken bone. I’m sure there were millions of them that occurred every year, and it was something that could be repaired easily. I wasn’t concerned.
“Ms. James.” His voice sounded sympathetic. “They’re not going to set the bone. There’s no point. We can put him in a protective cast to keep it from becoming worse, but that cast would have to come off within a few weeks.”
“Well, then how in the hell is he going to walk again?! What do you mean they aren’t going to fix it? I’ll come up with the money to pay for the surgery, just tell them to get in there and do it!” I was mad and scared and shaking where I stood. I couldn’t understand why the hospital was refusing to fix my dad’s leg and would just leave him like that. He needed to be able to walk.
The doctor breathed out a resigned sigh. “Ms. James — I’m sorry. I believe its time for your family to consider your options from this point forward. Your father is refusing treatment for the cancer and his care from now on will only be palliative — to keep him from feeling pain. We don’t typically render that type of care long term in the hospital, however there are programs that can assist you. They have their own facility where your father can be transported or he can receive care at home as long as there is someone who can provide 24-hour care.” He paused again and breathed a slow breath. “The disease is progressing quickly, Ms. James. It may be time for you to make arrangements. As for now, I can give your father a prescription for oxycodone to help with the pain and I can provide you with a phone number for the local Hospice. It’s an excellent program and they can walk you through the process.”
“The process? What process? And I don’t know about the oxycodone. Isn’t it addicting? How will we get him off of it?”
His expression didn’t flinch. I briefly wondered if doctors were taught to remain so serious and impassive in medical school. “Your father is dying, Ms. James. I can’t tell you how much time he has left but any addiction he develops will not be a problem. There are steps that you are going to need to take to prepare for his death. That is where Hospice can assist you. I recommend you give them a call today if possible. We’ll keep your father here until transfer arrangements can be made.”
~ ~ ~
After quickly thumbing through the paperwork, I looked up at the Hospice representative who’d come out to my house. She quickly assessed the space and we agreed to set up a hospital bed in the living room for my father. She told me that they would provide the bed, a system for me to use to lift my father and that they would work directly with the doctors to obtain prescriptions and other medical care that my father would require.
“Ms. James, the first couple days or weeks will be the easiest part of this process. Since you will be your father’s caregiver, you will be in direct contact with our nursing staff 24-hours a day if need be. If there is ever a time where the task becomes too much, or if you need to leave the house for an hour or two, a nurse can sit with your father during that time.”
Her face fell and she reached over to take my hands into hers. “I’m sorry this is happening to your family. We’ll be with you every step of the way and if you need anything, you let us know. I also want you to remember to take of yourself during this time as well. Caregivers tend to forget that they have needs. The last thing you need is to make yourself sick during the coming weeks. The paperwork will explain everything.”
We went over the arrangements and she explained how to use the equipment and how to administer my father’s medications. When she left, I closed the door and fell against it. My entire body hurt, my heart, my bones, my skin — everything. It was quiet in the house except for a soft vibration. I looked towards the hallway and saw the screen of my phone light up on the floor. Stepping away from the door, I approached the phone to pick it up. Hunter had texted me more than 15 times. I scrolled through the texts, but didn’t really read them. He was upset that I hadn’t responded, but not in an angry way. He was simply concerned. My thumb moved to hit the button to respond back to him, but I couldn’t push it down. I had nothing to say. My world had just been hit by the beginning of the storm and I’d become almost catatonic to see it coming. It was as if my reality had shifted and even though I was still part of my life, I was only watching it rather than participating. My body wouldn’t let me do anything more than feed the dogs and crawl in bed. I didn’t even have the strength to shower. I held the phone to my chest, felt every time that it vibrated with a new message. I didn’t look at them and I didn’t respond back. I couldn’t.
My father would be arriving from the hospital the next morning and all I could do was curl up under my blanket and lay there while I waited.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hunter
Me: Well have you tried going over there?
I’d broken down and texted Lily again around midnight when I didn’t hear back from Ellison. Lily’d responded that Ellison’s dad had fallen and was taken to the hospital, but she didn’t have much information beyond that. When she told me she let Ellison drive to the hospital by herself after the ambulance left, I almost reached through the phone and strangled her.
Lily: I walked over there a little bit ago and knocked on her door and window. The lights are out and I think she’s asleep. I’m sure she’s just tired. I talked to Jake and he’s heading home now to see what’s going on.
“Fuck!” I threw my phone across the room, but then immediately ran over to make sure I hadn’t broken it. The screen was cracked, but thankfully it was still operational. It was the only somewhat reliable source of contact I had with Ellison. It was on rare occasions that she turned on her computer and she didn’t really like social networking — most likely because she wasn’t interested in taking the time to learn it.
Every muscle in my body tensed and clenched. I paced helplessly through my apartment not sure what I could do. I wanted to jump in my car and race to the airport to catch the next flight to Florida. I didn’t give a shit that I had to be in class the next day. Ellison was more important. But I knew that if I pulled that maneuver and it wasn’t a serious issue, Ellison would be pissed. She’d warned me when I left that the stuff going on with her would distract me from school. As usual, she’d been right. Even over a thousand miles away it was affecting me. But my heart wasn’t here, it wasn’t in the walls of that fucking school or in the walls of this apartment. It was in a small wooden house in the middle of nowhere fucking Florida and THAT was where I should have been.
Flicking my phone on, I typed out another text to Ellison.
Me: I’m flying down. I’m worried and you’re not responding, so I’m flying down.
It was a cheap trick, but I knew Ellison would respond if for nothing more than to yell at me for even threatening to leave school. I waited for what f
elt like an hour, but eventually my phone chirped. Snatching it from the table beside me, I pulled up the message.
Ellison: It’s nothing, Hunter. My dad broke his leg. Everything’s fine. See - this is why you don’t need to be involved in this. You’re too damn willing to drop everything. Now stop. It’s three in the morning, I know you have class tomorrow and you need sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
I knew she was lying but I also knew that was all I was going to get from her. I tossed the phone back on the table and leaned forward to hold my head in my hands. Blood rushed through my veins and my headache pounded in time with it. I’d been fucking miserable since I left Florida. The week before school was a joke and I’d spent most of my time at the guesthouse avoiding my parents. Ethan had come by a couple times, but when I told him I wasn’t interested in partying, he eventually gave up. He’d informed me that he and Tiffany had hooked up when she returned from Florida and I wished him luck. For some fucking reason, he thought I’d be upset, so you can imagine his reaction when I laughed so hard, I’d started clapping. I was that happy about it because I knew it meant I wouldn’t have to deal with her before I left for Massachusetts.
After I arrived here, I kept to myself. I made acquaintances obviously, but I I was quick to side step any romantic advances and I kept my friendships to the people who were more serious about school work than their social lives. Ellison had yelled at me for becoming a recluse, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to impress her — to make her proud. I’d never wanted that before and the desire was too much to ignore. I finally joined a non-profit group to appease her and keep her from worrying that I’d become some creepy guy holed up in an apartment who only saw the light of day when he had class.
Luckily, there were only two more weeks of school before we got a break and I intended on returning home and using my parents plane to fly down to see Ellison. I would only be able to stay for a day or two, but I had this overwhelming urge to hold her, to talk to her in person, to take care of her in any way that I could.
~ ~ ~
The morning after that night, Ellison had laid into me over email. If I’d printed the email, I was sure it would have been several pages long. She let me have it for my threat to fly down and she let me have it for my constant messages. I had no idea where her anger had come from because, even for Ellison, the length of the email was a bit much. I didn’t text her for the rest of that day trying to give her time to calm down. However, when I texted her the following day, she would only respond with one word phrases or curt explanations. It’s been like that for the past two weeks, which only made me more determined to fly down and find out what was going on with her.
I’d left school as soon as break started and I was pulling up to my parents’ house in New York. As usual, my mother had the place decked out for the holidays and everything looked perfect and cold. I sat in the car looking up at the perfectly placed lights and the festive ornaments and bows she had placed throughout the large yard. But, despite the obvious attention that had been paid to the detail of the display, there was no warmth to it — no love.
Climbing from the car, I grabbed the bags I’d packed for the trip and walked inside the house, tossing my bags down in the foyer. My mother must have heard something messing up the perfection of her décor and came flying down the hallway.
“Hunter! Honey, why are you home so early and why aren’t you putting your stuff in the guesthouse? You’d be more comfortable there. I refurnished it.” A fake smile appeared on her face and I groaned.
“I need to use the plane. I’m going to Florida for a few days.”
Mom never lost her fake smile when she said, “Well that’s not going to be possible. There is a little less than a week left before Thanksgiving and you need to be here. It wouldn’t look right if my son didn’t come home for the holidays.”
I scoffed. “Mom, I’m going to Florida, one way or the other. If I have to drive, I’ll drive, but I’m going. If you let me take the plane, I can make sure I’m back in time to play the perfect child for your friends.”
Her jaw dropped. “How dare you? I want you around for the holidays because that’s what families do and not because I’m just trying to make a good impression.”
Brushing past her, I walked to the kitchen and yelled back over my shoulder. “I’m going, mom. You can decide how I get there, but nothing is going to stop me.”
I sat down at one of the barstools and grabbed a pile of my mail that my mom had been saving while I’d been gone. Flipping through the assortment of envelopes, I tossed most to the side and chuckled at the amount of junk mail I’d received over the few weeks I’d been gone. I also tossed out the phone bills and credit card statements because my parents’ accountant took care of those electronically. However, on the bottom of the stack, I found a plain white envelope, addressed to me, but without a return address. The writing was nothing more than chicken scratch and I immediately ripped open the top and extracted a two page, handwritten letter.
Hunter:
I’m not good at writing out long-winded shit, but I’m going to attempt to clarify some things with you that I’ve been considering.
Before reading the rest of the letter, I flipped to the second page and scrolled my eyes down to the signature. It read ‘Henry James.’ I almost dropped the paper from my hands. Why the fuck was Henry writing to me? Flipping back to the first page, I continued.
You know I’m not your biggest fan, and I’m not writing to retract my earlier threats. I meant every single last one of them and even if you fuck up after I’ve passed away, I’ll still find a way to pay you a visit. I can promise you that. I just wanted to get that promise out of the way before moving on to why I’m writing this.
I’ve noticed something over the past couple of days and I can’t sit around and ignore it. I don’t have time for that. I know that before you left you were hiking daily with El and I know the reason she allowed that was because you followed her around until she had no choice but the talk to you. I’ll admit, that was pretty slick and I’d used that maneuver on Ms. James plenty of times during our marriage, so I won’t hold it against you. I’m not proud to admit this but I found some notes in Ellison’s room one day after she’d returned from one of those hikes. My curiousity got the best of me and I read them. I’m sure you know what was in those letters because you wrote them.
When I first met you, I thought you were looking out for yourself over the needs of my daughter. I know what it’s like to be a man your age and the last thing I wanted was for my daughter to fall for the crap I assumed you’d been feeding her. But then I read the letters, and you surprised me. I’m not saying I trust you any further than I did before I read them, but it made me consider the fact that you might care for El more than I realized.
So, before I leave this life, I wanted to correct some things that could become mistakes later on. Since you left, my daughter has been in a funk. It wouldn’t be obvious to the outside observer, because, let’s face it, my daughter is good at concealing her thoughts. But I’m her father and I can tell. Even after her break up with Finn, she never acted sad or lost. It pains me to see her act that way now.
What I’m attempting to say is this: I know Ellison cares about you and I suspect that you care for her more than I originally believed. I see no reason for you two to go your separate ways if there’s a chance that you can make her happy, and THAT is all I want for my daughter. I still think you’re a punk kid and I still think you have tons of growing up to do, but you have potential and I think that if you straighten up your shit, you can be the person that makes her happy. So, consider this a challenge. Before I die, I want to give you my blessing for pursuing my daughter, but I only do so with the condition that you become a man and not a boy. A man will look out for her over hisself and a man will take care of her no matter what it takes — I think you can be that man.
Don’t go showing this letter to my daughter in an attempt to win her either. That’s a punk mane
uver and once Ellison reads this she’ll be pissed you went against my wishes. But I will tell you this: if you want to be with Ellison, if you really love her as I suspect you do (considering her damn phone goes off about every five seconds), then grow the fuck up. Do something with your life and do it for yourself and for her. Be something she can be proud of, be something she will accept into her life. I’ve raised her not to put up with bullshit and I’m sure by now, you’ve learned that. Don’t expect anything less with her. Most importantly, be her equal. She’s an amazing person and it’ll be difficult for any man to be worthy of her time. So make yourself worthy.
That’s the only advice I can offer you, son. What you do with it is up to you.
Henry James
I read the letter three times to make sure that I understood it correctly. Henry James — the man who’d explained to me numerous times how my life would end badly if I messed with his daughter — was asking me to go after her, to not give up in my pursuit, and to become the person worthy of her. My jaw must have hit the countertop because my mother’s curiosity was peaked to see the expression on my face.
“What is that, Hunter? Who is that letter from?” She attempted to take it from my hand, but I pulled it to my chest. Henry had intended this message for me, man to man, and I was going to honor that.
Standing up suddenly, I looked at my mom while folding the letter back into its envelope and shoving it in my pocket. “I have to go. Am I allowed to take the plane, or … ”
“You’re not going anywhere, Hunter.”
My entire body tensed and rage began to bloom within my head and chest. “Excuse me?”
My mom’s expression was stern. Her brows furrowed between her eyes and her lips were pulled into a thin line. “Your dad is on his way home now. You’re not going to screw up the holiday season for us by, once again, making a stupid decision. We sent you to Florida to learn about what it’s like to live in poverty, not for you to join those people.”
