Five months ago? Where the hell was the phone call to tell me? He never mentioned this when we talked. My hand is over my mouth, trying to refrain from screaming at him, but also holding back the tears. For the last eight years, dad has asked me to come visit and I declined. What the hell is wrong with me?
“When we found out, he made me promise not to tell you. He wanted you to follow your dream and not worry about him,” he says, with his hands up like I might punch him.
My dad worked two jobs when my mother passed to make sure we had everything we needed. How could this happen to him?
“Please. Don’t kill me. I’m sorry.”
The anger inside me isn’t because of him. It’s at myself. I should have been a better daughter. If I hadn’t blown off visiting him, maybe I’d get some of that time back.
“Hazel?” Jeremy’s voice is low.
“I’m processing. Give me a sec,” I say, my finger elongated.
After clicking on the browser icon, I type in Alzheimer’s and gasp. Reading up on the disease is only going to make it worse. Just like they tell you not to search your symptoms on the internet. I continue reading anyway. As it advances, he will have problems with language, disorientation, mood swings, and behavioral issues. I close my eyes, trying to keep my shit together.
“When were you gonna tell me? Or were you gonna try and hide it?” My hands wave in the air, and then cover my mouth.
“He made me promise to let him tell you.”
“And I get that, but it’s been months. Not a week. That’s time you got with him and decided to keep me oblivious. We have no idea how fast this disease is going to mature and I’ll never get that fucking time back, Jeremy.”
“I-.”
My hand is up in a stop position. “Typical life expectancy is three to nine years. And you kept this from me for five months. I wanna punch you, kick you, scream! I don’t understand why you would keep something like this from me for that long? Whether he made you promise or not.”
Tears start to pour from his eyes. “I’m sorry, but he’s my dad. It’s his business to tell and he didn’t want you rushing back and giving up everything you’ve worked for.”
I flick my wrist. “That man has given me everything. If not for him, and his constant support and believing in me, I would have never made it to Harvard. He did it. I owe him everything.” My voice cracks and I pat under my eyes.
My feet pace around, and I try to keep my voice down so as not to disturb my dad. He is going through enough right now, especially dealing with this, and we don’t need to add to that stress.
“What are you gonna do? It says he’ll need constant supervision,” I ask. “Do you even have a plan?”
He runs his fingers through his hair. “Honestly, I’ve not thought that far ahead yet.”
My feet continue to pace while I chew on my fingernails. “You two can move in with me. Between the two of us, we can take care of him.”
The offer is sincere, but it won’t work. My hours are anything but reliable. I can work eight hours or fourteen hours a day, depending on the case we are working on. It’s possible I could work out a leave of absence, but that only lasts so long without losing my job. But I would give up everything for him, after what he did for me.
“I’m not sure he’ll go for that, sis.”
“We’ll talk when it comes time. Until then, all we can do is enjoy our time with him,” I say, pouring coffee into two cups and going back to the living room.
“Here ya go. Hot and black.”
Dad takes a tip, puts it on his side table, and goes back to watching Lethal Weapon. It’s like he doesn’t even remember what happened ten minutes ago.
The guilt is going to weigh on me, and it should. What kind of daughter leaves for college and never comes to visit? I’ll do everything I can for him. He’s my dad. I owe him everything.