“Dad! Dad, what is it? What’s wrong? Dad?”
He didn’t respond. His eyelashes fluttered closed then opened, his gaze unfocused, scanning the room for nothing.
Adrenaline streaked through me. “Kara!” I yelled, choking on her name. “Kara!”
What was wrong? This couldn’t be a side-effect of the chemo. He needed help. Hospital. The disconnected thoughts scurried around my head.
“Kara!” I wailed.
“What?” My sister shouted back. “I’m kind of busy here.”
“Call 911. Dad… Just call 911!”
I paced outside my father’s hospital room, peering inside every other minute, my phone pressed to my ear and my heart racing. He was settled in the bed, his eyes closed, and his hands on top of the neatly tucked sheets. My sister sat in the chair next to his bed, idly paging through a magazine.
I couldn’t understand how she was so calm with our father lying there, pale and tiny and half the man he used to be. Because the disease had taken his vitality from him.
The phone rang, but Damien didn’t answer, and pressure ached behind my eyes.
I need your help. Just be here for me.
But he wasn’t mine. He wasn’t supposed to be here for me. He was in a meeting. And what was I calling to say anyway? Damien couldn’t wave his money wand and make my father well again.
“Where is that damn doctor.” I stabbed the button to hang up then instantly dialed Damien again.
The nurse had said the doctor would be in to see us shortly—he’d already examined my father and would have some insight into what was going on here. My wildest hope was that the collapse was just another chemo side-effect and that it was nothing serious. Well nothing more serious than he was already going through.
I couldn’t take losing him. Not after we’d lost mom in a similar way.
The phone went to voicemail, and this time I listened to Damien’s message rather than hanging up.
“This is Damien Woods. Leave a message.”
That was all. No, “I’ll get back to you.” Typical Damien. I hung up again then entered Dad’s private room. The only reason we’d gotten him in here was because there wasn’t space anywhere else. It would cost an arm and a leg, and I was already having palpitations about it.
Kara licked her thumb and turned the page of her magazine, idly.
“How are you so calm?” I asked, biting the words out. “Do you not see what’s happening right now?”
“Yeah, Johnny and Amber are in court.” Kara turned the magazine around and flashed me a picture and a scandalous heading. “Can you believe it?” My twin sister was so far from me it hurt. She wore a glitter spandex dress, her makeup was smudged, and she smelled of a night of heavy partying.
She’d always been the wild child, but this wasn’t her, was it? Or had I just been delusional or too busy to see it?
“Kara,” I said, trying to remain calm. “Dad is sick.”
“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”
“So, say something. Do something. Be upset. Be anything but… this… this weird, drunk, half-naked—just be upset!”
“I am upset,” Kara replied and flipped another page. “Just because I’m not whining about it doesn’t mean I’m not upset. People handle grief in different ways.”
“And your way is, what, binge drinking and doing porn?”
“Shut up!” She slapped the magazine closed and glanced over at Dad. “I don’t want him to know that.”
“Why not, Ka? I thought it was totally chilled.” I pulled a face and waggled my arms in a “so chill, dude” imitation. “I mean, it’s your body and your life. Your prerogative. Why don’t you tell him when he wakes up?”
“You know why,” Kara replied. “He wouldn’t get it. Just like you don’t get it. You’re one of those people.”
“Which people?”
“Self-righteous, judgey people. The type who shame fat women online.”
I blinked. “What? That doesn’t make any sense. I’m not shaming you or judging you for it. I just… don’t think it’s healthy for you.”
“What, being fat?”
“No. God. The other stuff. The porn.” I couldn’t believe I even had to say it. “The drinking. Everything. A couple weeks ago you were madly in love with your boyfriend. What happened?”
“Whatever. I don’t have to answer your bullshit questions,” Kara said, waving away the questions. “Listen, why don’t you spend some time focusing on your high school crush and how he’s going to shatter your heart into pieces instead of picking on me?”
I sucked in a breath.
“Yeah, don’t think I haven’t heard you two going at it like rabbits. Moaning and shrieking. The guy must have a golden member,” she said, wriggling her index finger. “And you’ve got shit for brains if you think he’s not going to drop you just like he did in high school.”
“You don’t understand anything.”
“Yeah, well, you can say what you want about me, sis, you can say I’m heartless and I don’t care and I’m selfish, and even that I’m a slut. But at least I’m not the dumbass who fucks the guy who took their virginity and broke their heart.”
“How did you—?” I’d never told her about what had happened between Damien and me, physically. Only that I’d liked him and that he’d hurt me.
“Oh, come on. Everyone in White-Tail High knew about it. Nobody spends that much time with Damien Woods without getting fucked,” she said. “Literally and figuratively. And now, you’re doing it again. You can judge me all you want, think I’m a slut for having consensual sex for money, but you’re just as bad as—”
The door opened, and my father’s doctor entered, wearing his coat and a set of glasses. He was middle-aged, with dark hair and kind eyes, but his presence wasn’t comforting.
“Miss McCutcheon and Miss McCutcheon,” the doctor said, smiling first at me and then at my sister. He shut the private room’s door and folded his arms. “My name is Doctor Washington.”
“Hazel,” I said. “And this is Kara.”
My
