He was taking care of me, and he continued to throughout the shower. Cleansing me, peppering kisses all over me, not asking for anything in return and not moving past that intimate level.
Tears filled my eyes from happiness and I disguised them with the shower water, not wanting him to see my weakness but failed, miserably.
“I will not ever hurt you again, baby.”
I didn’t know what hurt the most, his words, or the fear I had in my heart to the sound of his words.
I didn’t want to leave the rest of the day, or ever.
14
EMMA
Sunday morning I had slowly gotten out of bed. I couldn't get enough sleep these days, and I figured it was just that time of the year. I was busy with work, and spent more time on my laptop than not. I was seriously getting burned out, and knew some changes were going to have to be made.
Today, I had no intention of getting dressed, but to lounge around the house and catch up on sleep.
I couldn’t believe I had slept so late but damn did it feel good.
I reached for my phone while going to start my coffee when my phone dinged.
Mama: Running some errands and going to stop by around 11:00.
Love you. xoxo
I looked down at the time and realized Mom would be here any minute.
As soon as my coffee pot buzzed, done brewing, I heard the knock at my door.
I poured my cup and walked to the door to let my mom in.
I was shocked when I was met with two faces. “Mom, and Dad. What are y'all doing? Everything okay?” I had on my ratty nightshirt that had seen better days.
“We need to talk to you and since you haven’t been able to get by, we thought we would come to you.” Mom said with a bit of irritation.
“I’m sorry about that…”
Mom looked me up and down, realizing I had just awoken.
I did the same to her and she was dressed in her normal style. An unbuttoned blouse with a
crisp shirt underneath. She had worn perfectly ironed khaki pants for as long as I could remember. If she wasn’t in them, it was a shock. My father dressed in his golf shirt and a pair of blue jeans.
I invited them in and asked them if they wanted some coffee. They didn’t. We took a seat at the kitchen table just like we had throughout my life to have these talks. This time it was my table instead of theirs.
My mother got a cup of water for my father and her and then sat.
“This isn't the best timing, but your father needs to discuss something with you.”
“Okay…” I took a sip of my coffee.
“You aren't looking too well, Emma. Are you getting enough sleep?” My mom said, pushing my hair away from my face just like she did when I was a young girl.
“Just working a lot,” I commented, which I knew would upset her. She hated I spent so much time working.
“So what is going on? I’m sorry I had to cancel and us not meet up like we had planned.”
“I guess I better just come out with it, baby girl, I’m sick,” my dad said it and looked away, not wanting to face me.
“What do you mean?” It was too damn early to be hearing this.
“I have had a lot of health problems lately and your mother forced me to go to the doctor. Come to find out I have rectal cancer.”
“Dad, why didn't you tell me what was going on? I could have done something to help make you feel better, or taken you to appointments, or…”
“I’m the parent, not the child, Emma. I don't expect you to take care of me. Especially now with all the stress you’re under.”
“Dad, that is not how this works. I would have been there for you.”
“And you can be now.”
“So what do you have to do? What can I do?”
Mom spoke up, “Nothing, dear. You take care of you and we will take care of us. Dad is going to need treatment and we are going to take it one day at a time. We are hoping the treatment will take care of the disease and all will be fine. If not, then we will go from there. We have faith and so we want you to have that too.”
I smiled weakly. Dad was watching me so I had to be strong, but the thought about my father not being around to walk me down the aisle, or hold his first grandchild one day, made me want to break down in tears. This isn't fair. It couldn’t be happening. He did seem to be getting older to me but I just chalked that up to me aging, just as he was.
“This isn't a death sentence, Emma, I will do what I need to do to get my health back. I’m not throwing in the towel so not sure why you would,” Dad said, comforting me.
I got up and stood behind him. I put my arms around his neck. “Dad, I love you.”
“And I love you too. You concentrate on taking care of yourself. I do want you to seriously think about cutting your hours back though too. You have made a name at that company, putting in more hours than anyone, and brought in a couple million easy in the last two years.”
That was my father, trying to take the attention off of him, and putting it back on me. He hated attention.
“I know I need to.”
“Dear, that is not up to us, nor is it our say,” Mom butted in.
“I want our daughter to be happy. I think I do have a say in that.”
They began to bicker back and forth like they had
