“Oh good, I hope they help, even if it is just a little.” I release my hold on her shoulder and let out a sigh of relief. It’s not a cure, but it’s a start. “Now, go and get yourself a drink and sit down. Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”
“Thank you, Cassie. That’s very kind of you.”
“Don’t mention it.” I watch as she heads down the stairs, then as quietly as I can, I slip back into Dad’s room and sit the seat closest to him.
I take a good look at my father and begin to cry silent tears. He looks gaunt and frail, and he’s a mere fraction of the man he was just a few weeks ago. I try to be as quiet as I can to not wake him, but the tears keep coming. It has only just hit me that he won’t be here with me for much longer. He’ll never see me get married or meet his grandchildren, and the thought shatters my heart into a million pieces.
An hour later, Sandy returns to the room. “I’m just going to go and call my sister,” I whisper to her, and she nods her head in recognition.
I leave the room and take my phone out of my pocket and dial Courtney’s number while in the hallway.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Court.”
“Cassie, how are you? How is Dad feeling?” she asks, sounding panicked, probably because I've been radio silent the last few days.
“I suggest you get here much sooner than you were planning.”
“Why, what’s happening?”
“He is going downhill, fast. We’ve had to have a full-time nurse come in to care for his needs.”
“Shit, that’s not good.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I’ll book a flight for next Saturday and text you the flight numbers and times.”
“Good, I’ll come and pick you up from the airport.”
“That would be great. I have to get back to work, but I’ll talk to you later.”
“You can count on it. Bye.”
“Bye.” I hang up the phone.
Tuesday morning, Tristan leaves me to attend his business course. While he’s gone, I send Sandy off for a break and watch over my dad for an hour. He doesn’t wake while I’m there, and to me, it's heartbreaking. I miss our talks and laughs. He’s always known how to cheer me up.
When Sandy returns, my father’s still sleeping, and I ask her to call me when he wakes. With the way he appears, I know I don’t have a lot of time left to spend with him. I’ll make the most of it when he’s alert, but for the moment, I need a distraction. If I sit in that room watching him sleep his way to his death, it will, in turn, kill me inside. So, I tell myself to go and do the one thing that has always given me comfort in hard times: baking.
While in the kitchen kneading the dough, I look up to see George enter the room. “What are you up to, sweetheart?” he asks.
“Tristan’s at Uni and Dad is still asleep, so I thought I’d make some scones to pass the time.” I continue to pound the lump in front of me. If I can’t take my anger out on a person, then this dough will have to do the job.
George takes a seat at the counter where I’m working. “If you don’t mind me asking, how are you coping? You know, with your dad and all?” he asks very quietly, not much louder than a whisper.
My uncle is so sweet and caring, and as I continue to knead the dough, I answer, “I’m okay for the moment. Between you, Carol and Tristan, I couldn’t ask for a better support team.”
He seems happy with my answer. “That’s kind of you to say. So, how are things going with Tristan?” George reaches for the bowl I'd filled with M&M’s and takes a handful.
“Good. We said the, ‘I love you's' for the first time on our weekend away.” I then punch the dough again.
His eyes widen, and his smile is broad. “Oh gossip, do tell. Who said it first?”
I chuckle because George has moved forward in his seat, his elbows are on the table, and he is propping his chin up with his hands. I feel like I’m gossiping with Zoe, and I like it. “He did. At first, I wasn’t sure what to do. I do love him, but it’s hard to say to someone the first time, you know?”
He nods his head in understanding. “I understand that, although it’s normally the man that’s hesitant. However, considering how shitty your last relationship was, I don’t blame you for the hesitation. So the two of you are pretty serious then? Have you talked about what will happen when it comes time for you to head back home?”
I shake my head. “No, we haven’t broached the subject, yet. I don’t think either of us wants to.” I shrug knowing it's the truth.
“It is going to be difficult to talk about, but you’ll both have to work it out, sooner rather than later.” He digs his hand into the bowl again and takes another handful of candy. I must get my sweet tooth from him. Neither of my parents is big on candy. For me, it's comforting.
“I know you’re right,” I sigh. “I’ll talk to him after Courtney’s visit. But until then, I want to stay focused on Dad.”
“Are you looking forward to seeing Court?”
I continue working on the dough. The truth is, I think the dough is well and truly ready for the oven, but the kneading is a sweet release. “Yes, Court and I are close. The only thing that worries me, is her seeing Dad for the first time. It’s hard for me to look at him, and I’ve been by his side all along. It will be a huge shock for her.” I’m so scared just thinking about her arrival. But I can’t wait to hold her in my arms and have her here with me. I don’t know how, but I need to try and protect her from the situation. I can’t tell her not to come, at all, just because I don’t know how to comfort her. If that happened, in the end, she’d resent and blame me for missing the opportunity to make peace with Dad.
George places his hand over one of my dough-covered hands, and I look up at him. “Just remember that we are all here to support both of you.”
“Thank you.” I stay quiet for some time, but George manages to make me laugh soon enough by telling me some Irish jokes.
We continue to talk while the scones cook, but the minute I pull them from the oven, we slather them in strawberry jam and whipped cream and eat until we can’t eat anymore.
“Those scones were to die for,” George tells me later while sitting back in his chair rubbing his belly.
“Thanks, it’s a recipe I have been working on for years, and I think I’ve finally hit the nail on the head with them.” When my mother would piss me off, I'd go into the kitchen and bake. I'd bake until I was calm enough to face her and her selfish ways.
“I think you’re right, love. They don’t need any improvement.” I try to laugh at the fact that he's still rubbing his stomach, but my stomach tells me that movement of any kind, will not be welcome whatsoever.
Dad sleeps for most of the afternoon, so I sit in the armchair that's positioned beside his bed and read a book. Just shy of six PM, Tristan very quietly comes into the room, careful not to wake dad. “Hey, baby girl,” he whispers in my ear when he reaches me. I meet his gaze and give him a quick kiss.
“How was Uni?” I whisper in return.
He kneels in front of me and takes my hands in his. “Same shit, different day. How’s Patrick been today?”
“He’s slept for most of the day.” It’s as if he knows he's being talked about because dad begins to stir in the bed. He opens his eyes. “Sorry, Dad. Did we wake you?”
Very slowly, he shakes his head. “No, love. You didn’t.”
“Hey Patrick, how are you feeling?” Tristan asks him, his voice still a mere whisper.
Dad smiles at the sight of him. “Not bad mate, just tired.”
Tristan’s eyes meet mine. “On my way up here, I ran into Carol, and she told me to tell you that dinner’s almost ready.”
I look back to Dad and ask, “Would you like to join us, or are you too tired? I won’t be offended if you can't, Dad.”
“I’d love to come down for dinner, but I think that it’s best if I have it up here.” He closes his eyes again and keeps them closed.
Before I can
say a word, Tristan begins to talk, “Tell me to piss off if you aren’t up to it, Pat. But would you like us to come and have dinner up here with you?”
The corners of my father’s mouth creep up, but his eyes are still closed. “I would love that,” he answers.
I stand and smooth down my Trailer Park Boys T-shirt, and when I realize what I’m wearing, I think, ‘Why the fuck is someone like Tristan interested in me, I don’t get it?’ I look back up and see he's smiling at me. “Okay, babe, let’s go downstairs and set it up. Dad, we'll be back soon.”
“Okay, love.”
As we leave the room, I take Tristan’s hand in mine. “I don’t know how you do it,” he points to my shirt, “but somehow, you've managed to make Bubbles look sexy.”
I chuckle as he pulls me to him, and presses his lips to mine. “By the way, it was a great idea suggesting we have dinner with him,” I say as I kiss Tristan again.
“I know you want and need to spend as much time with him while you can. I’ll do anything to make that possible.” He smiles at me, and I lean in and kiss him, again.
“Thank you,” I whisper against his lips.
When we have made it downstairs, we tell the others of our plans to eat with my father. “That is a splendid idea,” Carol beams.
George agrees and goes off to gather some chairs so he can arrange to take him up the stairs while Carol organizes the rest. When the food is ready, the very sexy Chef Eric helps me take the cart into the elevator.
We wheel it through to dad’s bedroom, and when I walk into my father’s room, I’m amazed at what Tristan’s managed to do in such a short time. I look around and see that there are candles everywhere, and he's draped dark red silk over the bedposts and curtains.
“It’s so beautiful,” I tell him.
He puts his arm around my waist. “I was hoping you’d like it.”
A moment later, I hear Carol say from behind, “Cassie, the room looks beautiful.”
I turn to face her, and I point in Tristan’s direction. “Don’t tell me. This was all his doing.”
“Well then, it’s absolutely lovely, Tristan.” She beams.
“Thanks, I thought it needed a little color in here,” he says as he pulls me closer so my body is flush with his.
Once everything is in place, and everyone is up in the room, we take our seats around my dad’s bed and eat our meals. It was so nice to hear him laugh again. The entire meal consisted of embarrassing stories from my childhood and a lot of dirty jokes. I took it all in and loved every single second of it.
As soon as the plates were taken, Carol, Dad, and George, order Tristan and me to go out and have some fun. I knew there was no point in protesting, because, so far, when it comes to them being against me, I lose every single time.
Quickly, I head over to my bedroom with Tristan in tow, so I can try to find something to wear. “Baby girl, you don’t need to change your clothes. I’m not taking you to a posh restaurant. Please, just be comfortable,” he begs. I love it when he begs. It makes me want to strip him off and ride him on the spot. I’m not sure if I'd care if we were in public, either.
My feet move closer to him, I cup his face in my hands and press my lips to his. “I won’t get dressed up, but you cannot stop me from changing my T-shirt. I love Bubbles, but I will not let the locals think you're dating a Bogan from the Pines.” I release his face and turn to open the drawers.
“What the hell is a Bogan, and where are these Pines?” he asks. He is so cute when he’s clueless.
“Well, a bogan is someone that lives on welfare, has fifty children, no teeth, and pretty much no manners, or any consideration for other human beings. Now, the Pines, The Pines is a suburb of Melbourne, a suburb where the bogans gather, booze it up, and smoke weed,” I shrug, there’s no nicer way to say it.
He chuckles, and I go back to find a suitable outfit to wear. I end up putting on my skinny black jeans, a long-length, A-line, button-up sheer, white, blouse, and a pair of black stilettos. When I turn around, Tristan is literally in my face. “What are you doing?” I laugh.
His hands find my ass, and he uses it to pull me into him. “Do we have to go out? You look so fucking sexy, I want to strip off your clothes, all except the stilettos, and throw you on the bed.” He leans in and trails kisses down my neck.
I begin to get swept up in the moment, his lips, those damn lips make me forget everything else. But eventually, I do manage to snap out of it.
Breathless, I say, “Come on, let’s go and get drunk.”
He pulls away, looks at me, and smiles. “I like a drunk, Cass. She’s so freaky in bed.” He presses his lips to mine for a quick kiss, he then takes my hand and leads me out of the bedroom.
As we walk down the hall, I hear Tristan on the phone ordering a cab to collect us. “So, where are we going?” I ask as he slips the phone into his pocket.
“You’ll see,” is all he will give me. I beg for answers, but he continues to play dumb.
Within no time, the cab is at the gates, buzzing to be let in. It’s a thirty-minute drive to wherever the hell it is we’re going, and when we pull up, I look towards the sign, and I get overly excited. “How did you know I wanted to come to the Guinness Storehouse?” I ask, knowing I haven’t mentioned this place to him.
He presses himself against me. “As much as I'd like to take all of the credit, you know so that I can get laid tonight, it was your dad that asked me to bring you here. He said you’d always wanted to come here and have a pint of Guinness, from where it originated.” He cups my cheek and leans in. “I’m sorry it’s me bringing you here, and not your dad.”
I shake my head and will the tears away. “If he can’t be here with me, then I’m glad it's you that's brought me. Thank you.” I lean in and kiss him.
“You’re more than welcome, babe. Come on, let’s do this.” Tristan pays the cab driver, and we hop out.
I have his hand clasped between both of mine, and I press my side against his, I need him close to me. The moment we’re through the front doors, the sweet smell of fermenting Guinness that’s coming from the many barrels lining the walls, only makes me want to drink one. I’ve always loved the smell of stout, ever since I was a young girl and my grandmother would use Guinness in her meat pies. Those pies were the best damn pies I’d ever tasted and the sad part was that she took the recipe to her grave.
Tristan leads me over to the bar and orders two pints of Guinness. “Where do you want to sit, babe?”
“Somewhere quiet,” I say, but my glare is on a table of women who are undressing my man with their eyes. If they don’t stop, I will stab the bitches.
Once the Guinness is in hand, we make our way to the back of the room where we find a small booth in the corner, away from the prying eyes. Tristan sits first and pulls me until I'm almost seated on top of him, and I nuzzle my head into his neck and let out a breath.
“Are you okay, Cass?” He whispers.
He gently lifts my head so he can reach back and drape his arm across my shoulders. “I’m okay. I think I’m just emotionally, and physically drained.” I snuggle in as close as I can to him. I’m going to forget about the table of whores and focus on the fact that this magnificent man, is mine, and only mine.
He turns so he can look me in the eyes, but before he gets a chance to say a word, I press my lips to his, and we kiss for a lot longer than is probably appropriate in a public location. But for the first time in a long time, I don’t care. I could have taken him into the bathroom and had my way with him. When we come up for air, Tristan’s eyes are on mine. “I wish I could take all of your sufferings away for you.”
I rest my cheek against his. “Thank you. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He tightens his hold on me.
We talk and drink until closing, but I don’t get drunk. After the cab drops us back off at Carol and George’s, before heading to bed, I decide to check in on dad, but the moment I see him, I know somethings wrong, very w
rong. He’s ghostly white, and because I only saw him a couple of hours ago, I’m alarmed by how sunken his eyes and cheeks are. Gently, I pat his shoulder. “Dad, Dad, are you okay?” I ask.
He opens his eyes ever so slightly, and his once royal blue eyes, seem gray. “Just tired, my love. Tired and sore. Can you find Sandy? I think I need a morphine top-up?”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance?”
He shakes his head, but only slightly. “No, love. No ambulances. Just find Sandy for me.”
As I shift away from him, I whisper I'll be right back. When the door is closed, I run downstairs, but I can't see her anywhere, so I turn to the intercom. “Sandy, can you hear me? Wherever you are, Dad needs you, now!” I yell through the speaker.
A moment later, I hear George’s voice come over the intercom’s speaker. “Cass, what’s the matter?”
I press the button. “It’s, Dad. He’s worse."
“I’ll be right up.”
I call out for Sandy again, and this time, she responds. “I’m up in your father’s room. I just had to use the bathroom. I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be sorry. Dad needs pain relief. I’ll be up in a second.” I race back up the stairs, and I’m met with Tristan, who’s standing outside my father’s bedroom door.
“What’s going on, Cass?” He looks so worried.
I shake my head. I feel frantic. My heart is racing a million miles a minute. I don’t know if it’s from running or my being panicked, probably both. Why does he look so ill? He didn’t look fantastic at dinner, but the turn he’s taken in the few hours we were gone, scares me beyond anything I’ve had to face before. “I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I went in to check on Dad, and when I did, he was pale, and in so much pain.” I try desperately to keep the tears and the rest of my emotions in check. I can’t break down before I walk into that room. I cannot let my father see me upset.
Tristan pulls me into him. “Shit, what should we do? Get him to a hospital?”
“I already asked him, and he said all he needed was some pain relief. But if I don’t see any improvement, I will force him into the back of an ambulance if I have to. I know he’s going to get worse, cancer is a fucker like that, but I won’t stand by and let him suffer just because he doesn’t want to go to the hospital.” I then take a deep cleansing breath and let it go.
The Beginning Page 18
