The first thing I heard as I began to stir awake was the sound of rustling and the loud beeping of what sounded like a microwave. When I was finally able to open my eyes in my half-asleep state and see the room I found myself in, and more specifically, the sight of my father lying on his back, I remembered where I was, waking up fully in an instant. However, before I was even able to move an inch, the sound of rustling could be heard once again, and with a start, I realised it was coming from my father.

  With a small leap, I all but found myself leaning over the side of his bed, leaving barely a gap between us and ignoring the sharp spike of pain such an action caused. Quickly, his movements, which had started off small, began to get more and more erratic while his facial expression started to morph and change, no longer the emotionless mask it was the night prior. I stood frozen above him, scared to make even the slightest of movements for reasons I didn’t even know. I heard as he began to murmur and mumble while his eyelids fluttered rapidly, before eventually his eyes peeked open and his vibrant green, gssy-yered pupils stared directly into mine. Time seemed to pause, with not even the constant beeping registering in my ears. I wasn’t sure how long the stare between us sted before the wispy, aged voice of my father was heard.

  “Adam? Is that you?”

  “Yeah Dad. It’s me.” I quietly chuckled in relief, doing my best to hold back the sea of tears that threatened to come forth. I wondered as I stood there, when I became such a crybaby, as it seemed that all I was doing these days was crying. I had cried more in the past month than I had in the past few years.

  Hearing my confirmation and before I could even react my father lurched upwards, scaring the shit out of me in the process, before wrapping his arms around my neck and bringing me into a sudden hug. His arms, which I had believed to be so weak and frail, locked me in pce with a surprising amount of strength.

  “Adam. Oh god Adam. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He began to mumble into my right ear before it dissolved into an indecipherable string of apologies. I stood still, hunched over in bewilderment, wondering what was going on, wondering how my father could possibly think he needed to owe me even the slightest apology. The only thing he owed me was a smack on the head, and that would have been a light punishment all things considered.

  “Dad, you have nothing to be sorry about.” I finally replied as I managed to pull myself back out of his surprisingly strong grip and looked into his eyes. “I’m the one who should be sorry for how I’ve been this past month.”

  Before I could mirror my father in releasing a string of apologies, I was once again met in the comforting hold of my father as his arms snaked around my neck and shoulder, encasing me in a bnket of warmth and acceptance. The moment I began to hear my father’s choked sobs as his grip tightened around me, I could feel my own, which had been threatening to spill the entire time, pour out silently. Falling rapidly down my face and onto my father’s shoulders, no doubt alerting him despite my best efforts to the contrary.

  We stayed like that for god knows how long, frozen like statues with only the occasional sniffle or hard swallow made by one another proving otherwise. Eventually, long after the tears had already stopped flowing, we broke apart. I stood still, feeling awkward and unsure about what to say and do next, feeling slightly embarrassed after having just wept like a child in front of my father, as nonsensical as that feeling was. Though, based on the blush on my father’s face, easily seen on his still ghastly complexion, it was clear he felt something simir. That was until he looked back at my face and noticed the swollen and bruised mess it was in.

  “My god, Adam! What in the hell happened? Are you alright?” He asked in a panic, showing far more concern for me than himself, despite being the one currently in the hospital. A thought which brought a small ugh to my lips as I quickly reassured him.

  “Dad, it’s fine, I swear. It’s nothing serious. Just got into a fight st night before I got here. But you don’t have to worry. It won't happen again.” I could tell he was anything but reassured with my answer, yet my face must have shown my reluctance to talk about it anymore, as despite the grimace resting on his face, he asked no further questions.

  “So,” Dad eventually spoke after a few seconds, breaking the silence, “I know this isn’t the best time. But now that we’re talking, I was wondering if you could maybe tell me more about what the doctors said about your health. You didn’t really tell me much when we st talked about it.“ He joked, or at least tried to. It was apparent from how anxious he was that he was worried I wouldn’t tell him. A reasonable worry based on how I really didn’t want to. However, I knew I had to. He deserved to know; he was my father and had just as much a right to know about what my illness really meant as I did.

  I proceeded to tell him everything I knew. How I got the disease, how my health and condition had deteriorated and would continue to do so, as well as what treatment options I had avaible, as few as they were. That specific conversation reminded me how inconsistent I had been tely in regard to my medicine, usually forgetting or being far too drunk in the evening to remember to take it. A habit I swore to myself I would promptly fix.

  By the time we finished, I could see from the half-shut curtains over by the far side window that the sun had begun to rise, the room illuminated by its soft orange glow. During the entire time I talked, my father hadn’t said a word, not even a question. He simply sat there in silence, taking it all in with unbridled focus. That was, of course, until I mentioned how long I was expected to have left.

  “A couple of months.” He suddenly whispered before he broke into a humourless ugh, a ughter filled with only pain and sorrow. “A bloody couple of months.” He managed to once again repeat, his ughter having been repced with a heart-wrenching sob. “How does that make any fucking sense? First your mother and now you? It’s not fucking fair!”

  As I watched my father try to come to grips with the harsh reality, all I could feel was a sense of overwhelming guilt as I remembered how I had never told him how serious my condition was. All I had said was that I was dying. For all my dad knew - and I guess suspected - I could still have had years left to live. Now, because of me and my cowardice, I had taken away a month's worth of time from my father that we could have spent together. Something which I would never get back.

  “Dad…” I tried to think of something to say, some way to apologise. Yet every time I tried, my brain would freeze and my tongue would tie, leaving me incapable of saying even the simplest of words. So instead, I just sat there, eyes focused on the floor, unable to even look my father in the eyes. It was at this point that I heard the door behind me begin to open, and in walked the female doctor I had seen the night before.

  “Ah, it’s good to see that the two of you are awake.” She said, the moment she spotted the two of us as she began walking into the room and towards the foot of the bed. If she could tell that the two of us had been crying up a storm, she thankfully didn’t mention it.

  “Mr Collins, it's a pleasure to meet you. We haven't been formally introduced, I am the doctor in charge of your care while you stay here. I’m Dr. Abidemi. How are you feeling this morning?”

  “I’m fine, thank you. You don’t need to worry. Think it was just because I hadn’t had time to eat much yesterday, but I’m all good now. So am I good to leave?” Hearing my Dad’s question, I vehemently wanted to decline such an idea. After all, even though it was clear how much better he looked than the night before, he still looked incredibly worse for wear, still looking both incredibly pale and extremely tired.

  Thankfully, it seemed that Dr. Abidemi thought so too. “That’s great to hear! Although I’m afraid we would like to keep you here for a few more days, just so we can monitor your condition closely and make sure everything is going well.”

  “Is that really necessary? How about I just come back if I begin to feel worse?” Clearly, to my dad, the idea of my staying at the hospital disgruntled him more than I originally expected.

  “Come on Dad. It’ll only be for a few days.” I pleaded as I stared into his eyes, knowing more than anyone how much he needed to rest. As well as how if he did start to feel worse again, he wouldn’t say a word. Which was probably how he had even ended up here in the first pce.

  As we stared at one another, Dad was the first to break eye contact, releasing a long-winded sigh as he did so. “Fine. But only for a couple of days.” He insisted.

  “Excellent. I will come back ter today to review your charts, and a nurse will be in shortly to ask what you would like for breakfast.” With that, and one st quick smile, Dr. Abidemi left the room with the door clicking closed behind her.

  The very moment she stepped out, before my dad could even think to open his mouth, I quickly spoke, speaking the words I had been desperate to say for over a month. “I’m sorry Dad.”

  The moment the words left my lips, I watched as Dad’s attention shifted back to me and his expression turned to one of surprise. Something that gave me the time to raise my courage and continue with my apology. “I’m sorry for how I never truly appreciated what you did for me or how tirelessly you worked. I’m sorry -”

  “Adam, you have nothing to be sorry for.” My Dad suddenly interrupted. However, it was an interruption I was not going to accept. Not when it came to this.

  “Dad. Please, let me say this.” I implored, knowing that if I didn’t say it now, I never would.

  Seeing the small nod he gave, I continued. “I’m sorry for how much of a prick I was and I’m so sorry for not fucking telling you about my condition when I first found out. I’m really fucking sorry.” I hung my head low as I finished, unable to even look my father in the eyes from the mix of shame and guilt I felt from remembering how poorly I had been treating him.

  Eventually, just as I was beginning to think that he was never going to say a word, he started to speak, his voice having turned back into the hoarse sound it was just before the doctor's arrival. “Son, while I can’t say it’s not been difficult this past month, you don’t owe me or anybody else a fucking apology. Nobody can bme you for how you’ve been acting, not after what you’ve been forced to accept and go through.” Hearing what he said, looking back up to him and seeing his vibrant green eyes gzed over with tears, staring into my own that were no doubt simir, I realised just how lucky I was to have him as a father.

  “There is, however, one thing you need to do.” He continued, his hand pced on top of my shoulder. “And that is to stop being so fucking hard on yourself. The past is the past, nothing’s going to change that, no matter how much you beat yourself up over it. So forget about it and live in the present. After all, I believe that was something you yourself told me you wanted to do.” He added with a smirk while all I could do was nod at his words, knowing that any word I tried to say would set me off and turn me into a weeping mess once again.

  “Son, I don’t know how we're going to handle what comes next. There’s no doubt in my mind that there’s going to be many, many bumps down the road. But I need you to know that no matter what, I love you with all my heart and that will never change.” He choked out, his earnest eyes never once wavering away from my own.

  “I love you too, Dad.” That was all I could whisper out as tears started to build in my eyes and a smile appeared on my face. Never before had I felt as loved as I did right then.

  xXx

  “So, how much longer are they pnning on keeping him trapped there?” Sam asked as he y zily on a luxurious king-size bed. A bed that, even with its gigantic size, wasn’t able to occupy even a fourth of the hall-like room we found ourselves in.

  “Only one more day. I’m hoping though due to how shitty he still looks that they keep him another day. Though with how vocal he is, I really doubt it.” I sighed as I continued throwing the tennis ball in my hand against the unoccupied wall in front of me. Something that, after ten minutes of doing so, seemed to finally get a reaction from Sam.

  “Mate, you know I like you, but I swear to god, if you keep throwing that ball against the wall then I’m going to lose my absolute shit.”

  Seeing the frustrated look on his face, I was tempted to continue, but reluctantly I decided against it, not wanting to anger him so soon after we had just made up. Sam released a small sigh of relief the moment I stopped, the hidden tension in his body disappearing as I did so. “Thank you,” He muttered before returning to what we were talking about before.

  “I’m shocked he’s not being held there longer, no offence mate, but he truly looked god awful,” Sam said, having seen him the evening before. “Almost as bad as you.” He smirked.

  “None taken and fuck you,” I replied, not even bothering to look up and respond to his juvenile taunt from where I was spinning the tennis ball mindlessly on the floor. “Despite how shitty he looks there’s actually nothing wrong with him. All he needs is plenty of rest and food. Things he can do just as easily at home then at the hospital. Add on the fact that he is on the verge of attempting a prison escape, and I doubt they could keep him there any longer, even if they wanted to.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. The entire time that I’ve known your dad, I’ve never seen that man take a break.”

  “What do you mean by ‘the entire time’? You’ve known him since you were like four. I doubt you were paying too much attention to his fucking work schedule back then.” I joked. “I think back then you were still too busy taking care of your fucking array of dolls.”

  “They were action figures, and you’re just saying that because you were, and still are, jealous you don’t have any.” He huffed in a faux indignant manner that made me chuckle softly. “My point still stands regardless.”

  Just as I began to reply, I could see from the constipated look on Sam's face that he had something he wanted to say, so I waited until, eventually, after quite a bit of silence, Sam said what was on his mind. “Adam?” He asked cautiously, lifting himself slightly off the bed so he could look at me from my seated position.

  “Sam?” I replied, earning a small smile that helped in loosening Sam’s tightly coiled nerves.

  “I was just wondering. How are things now? You know, between you and your dad.” He asked, squirming and looking away as he did. Clearly, to my amusement and confusion, uncomfortable about asking such a question.

  I considered not responding, to simply watch in enjoyment as he squirmed underneath my gaze. However, finding such a thing too mean, I decided to reply. “It’s going well.” I smiled. “After he woke up, we spent all morning just talking. Talking more than I’m pretty sure we ever had before.”

  “That’s good.” Sam smiled lightly while flopping back down onto the bed. Whether because he was happy about the news or that he didn’t piss me off with his question I wasn’t sure. “How did he handle, you know, everything?”

  Despite Sam’s incredibly vague wording, I knew exactly what he was talking about. “As well as could be expected, I guess. I still don’t think it's properly settled in for him yet, but he did talk about taking an extended leave from work so we could be together for whatever time I had left.” I replied, trying to do my best to act as casually as possible, as if I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being able to spend some time with my dad, like I had always wanted. Though from the way Sam was grinning at me, it was clear I had failed.

  “Wipe that smile off your face, you look moronic.” I threw the tennis ball I was still holding at him with all my strength. Or at least I tried to. Unfortunately, my aim was even worse than usual with all my injuries and impacted a good three feet to his left against the headboard of his bed instead. An impressive miss considering how small the distance between the two of us was.

  “I would say you throw like a girl, but that would be an insult to girls.” He ughed loudly to my annoyance, which only seemed to make him ugh harder.

  “Whatever,” I muttered. “Keep ughing like that and I’ll tear the heads off all your precious little dolls when you’re not looking.”

  “Mm-hmm.” He hummed in acknowledgement, not even pretending to take my threat seriously. Sam suddenly proceeded to roll over, not even reaching the edge of his bed in the process, and picked up the pen and stack of papers that were spyed haphazardly around him.

  “I swear, if they give me any more homework, I might just have to start a fight and get expelled myself.” Sam muttered. Yet even as he compined, he never once stopped filling out the sheets of homework he now held, filling them at a lightning pace, taking only a fifth of the amount of time I would have needed to do the same.

  “I don’t know why you even bother. It’s not like they’re going to care whether you do it or not. You’re one of the, if not the, smartest kids in our year and all the teachers love you, man. You could probably murder another person and get off with just a sp on the wrist.”

  Sam just rolled his eyes, or at least I think he did. It was difficult to tell from my position on the floor. “Think you might be exaggerating a bit there mate.”

  “You’re right. You might get detention for a day as well.”

  “Trust me mate, I don’t do all this god forsaken homework and extra work because of the teachers. You know I couldn’t care less about them,” He replied, not actually disagreeing about being the teacher’s favourite.

  It was then, as if on cue, that the door to Sam’s bedroom burst open and in strided Mrs. Rainwright. An older woman of no less than fifty with a no-nonsense look ingrained on her face. Which, when matched with her hair that was tightly coiled into a bun, made her look like the strictest librarian I had ever seen.

  “Hello, Mrs. Rainwright.” I said in my politest tone as I instinctively fixed my posture so I was sitting up straight instead of spyed across the floor. Ever since I was a child Mrs. Rainwright had always scared the shit out of me. I don’t know whether it was her stern expression or the way she always seemed to look at me with a surprising amount of disgust, but I always used to freeze up whenever I saw her. It was so bad I almost stopped hanging out with Sam altogether because I was so afraid of her.

  After ignoring my greeting and giving me a look of annoyance and contempt, she turned towards Sam. “Samael, how is your work coming along? I hope you're not getting distracted.”

  “Of course not mother, I’m almost finished. I just have a few more pages left to do.” Sam replied, his face eerily bnk of all emotions.

  “Good. Dinner will be at six, so I expect it to be finished by then. You also have violin practice afterwards.” And with that, she walked out of the room with her nose held high, without a single goodbye or gnce towards either me or Sam.

  After a brief silence that engulfed the room as the door smmed closed behind her, I looked up at Sam, who hadn’t stopped staring at the closed door. “Say what you want but damn does she know how to make an entrance and exit.” I chuckled nervously, not knowing what to say after that frosty talk between mother and son.

  “It’s alright Adam.” Sam yet again sighed, finally looking away from the door and back towards me. “She’s always been like that, I’m used to it. I’m sure I’ve told you before about how much extra school work I do.”

  “Yeah, but you never told me it was like that bro. I mean fuck is she always so … uh.”

  “Frosty?”

  “I was going to say bitchy but frosty works.” I joked before immediately regretting it, realising I had just called my best mate's mom a bitch. Thankfully, however, Sam seemed to find it hirious as he burst into ughter, which I promptly joined.

  As the ughter died down, I quickly scrambled for a topic to mention. Anything to distract from the uncomfortable situation that had just occurred and Sam’s home life that I was starting to realise wasn’t as perfect as I had always envisioned. Yet I was drawing a bnk, unable to think of even a single thing to say. And so in a panic, I said the first thing that came to my mind.

  “So how’s Helen?”

  The moment the words left my mouth, I cringed, regretting them instantly. I knew it was hypocritical of me to ask after how I had avoided her the past month, but I just needed to know, that question having constantly been in the back of my mind. Especially during the past couple of weeks when I’ve wanted to contact her.

  “How should I know? Why don’t you go ask her yourself?” He responded with a smirk.

  “You know damn well why. If I tried to call her, there’s not a chance in hell she would pick up, and I wouldn’t bme her.” I sighed. I had wanted to change topics to not depress Sam, and all I had managed was to depress myself instead.

  “For god’s sake mate, stop getting all mopey. It’s depressing to watch. How do you know she won’t answer if you don’t even give her a call and find out?” He asked, throwing down the bundle of papers he still had in his hands back onto the bed.

  “Wait, are you being serious. I always thought you were smart, but maybe I should start reconsidering.” At my joke, Sam looked unimpressed. That was until his lips suddenly turned upwards into an evil grin that immediately filled me with a sense of dread. Dread that only got worse as I watched him reach into his left pocket and pull out his phone.

  “I've just come up with a great idea.” He procimed, still with a glint in his eyes that promised nothing good.

  “And what might that idea be exactly?” I asked warily, knowing I wasn’t going to like the answer.

  Sam just seemed to ignore my question, eyes glued to his phone as he continued to fiddle with it, before, after a certain amount of time, which I spent getting progressively more and more nervous, he finally looked back towards me. It was then that he fshed me one more smirk before pressing a button on his phone one st time. Instantly, a ringing sound started coming from his phone. Immediately, I knew what he had done as my face became that of one of horror as I scrambled rapidly off the floor before all but unching myself at Sam on the bed.

  “Don’t you fucking dare Sam!” I shouted, doing my best to grab the phone he was purposefully putting at an arm's length away. Unfortunately, I realised straight away how futile such an attempt was as he kept me at bay with ease before I exploded into a massive coughing fit, leaving me all but useless and unable to stop him.

  “Damn it Sam hang up that fucking phone you prick.” I said, my voice raspy from the coughing, as I started to panic as the call carried on.

  “What’s wrong? All I’m doing is calling a close personal friend of mine.” He replied with an oblivious tone that wouldn't have fooled a five-year-old.

  Just as I was about to start swearing at him with every horrendous word I could think of, the ringing noise from the phone suddenly cut off, repced with the voice of a girl I hadn’t heard in quite a long time. “Hey Sam, this is a surprise. What’s up?”

  “Oh, nothing much. It's just that my mate needed to talk with you, and he doesn’t currently have a phone. I’ll pass the phone to him now.” And with that, Sam thrust the phone towards me, finally breaking me out of the stupor I had found myself in.

  “What the hell are you doing!” I whispered angrily, failing to quieten my voice as much as I wished. “Hurry up and hang up that phone!”

  “You’ve got two choices here, Adam. Either you man up and speak to her yourself, or I will speak for you on your behalf. And we both know that isn’t going to go well.” He replied with a smile, knowing I had no real choice at this point. And so, with no small amount of trepidation, I reached my arm out and angrily snatched the phone from Sam.

  I slowly pced the phone to my ear. Yet just as I was about to say something, Helen’s voice drifted through, leaving me tongue-tied and unable to think of anything to say. Something that sted as Helen’s voice continued to come through the phone, continuously asking whether Sam was still there. It was only as her voice started to sound annoyed, no doubt from the ck of speech on our end, and with the incessant remarks from Sam to hurry up, that I was finally able to speak.

  “Uhh, Hey Helen. How are ya?” I was instantly met with silence, silence that sted so long that I began to wonder whether she was even still on the line.

  Eventually, however, just as I was about to ask whether she was still there, she finally spoke. Unfortunately, the tone was anything but happy. “What do you want, Adam?” The irritation leaked from her voice at such levels that it seemed almost physical in nature.

  At her question, I thought about what I actually wanted to say to her. Was it to tell her how much I had missed talking to her? Was it to try and see if we could go back to how things were? No. It was none of that. The thing I had been wanting to say to her was something different.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “...For what exactly?” she asked, still sounding just as dismissive and angry as before. However, I didn’t know whether it was my delusions or if it was actually present, but I was sure I could hear a tinge of shock in her voice at my apology.

  “For everything.” I chuckled sadly. “You didn’t deserve to get ghosted the way you had. Especially when you had done nothing wrong. This past month, I’ve just been a massive prick to everyone, to which Sam can testify.”

  “He’s not wrong there, Helen!” Sam shouted from his bed, reminding me of his presence, which I had completely forgotten about, making me embarrassed and self-conscious with the apology I was giving.

  “But anyway, I just wanted to say I’m sorry and I completely understand if you don’t want to talk to me ever again.” I waited a few seconds after finishing my apology, hearing nothing but a stony silence. It was then, just as I was getting ready to hang up the phone, believing she wasn’t going to respond, her voice came through once again.

  “Meet me at Cilton Dives Amusement Park at eleven o'clock tomorrow.” Before I could even process what she had said, let alone respond, the connection went dead, her voice repced by a string of mechanical beeps.

  Still not able to fully process what was going on, I looked back towards Sam, who had during the call positioned himself with his legs dangling over the side of the bed, his arms along his p as his body leaned forward towards me in eagerness. Yet while his body was eager, his face was that of confusion and bewilderment. Facial expressions, I was no doubt mirroring myself.

  “Did she just tell me to meet her at an amusement park tomorrow?” I questioned, having awoken from my stupor, but still feeling no less confused.

  Sam just nodded his head dumbly. “I think you just got a date.”

  The mention of a date seemed to reactivate my brain back to full capacity. “That can’t be right! Did you not hear how pissed she was! I thought she was going to find a way to somehow beat the shit out of me through the phone.”

  “Maybe that’s the pn.” He smirked, clearly finding amusement in such an idea. “To meet up so she can finally get a chance to get some payback.”

  “Well, thanks for that Sam. I hadn’t even considered that before you opened that big gob of yours. Fuck! Why would she want to meet up so suddenly?” I sighed, leaning against one of the walls of the room before sliding down and dropping back onto the floor.

  “Mate, calm down. Alright.” Sam ughed. “Do you really think she would want to meet up at an amusement park, of all pces, if she was pnning on getting into a fight with you?” He asked incredulously.

  “I don’t know man. Look I’m freaking out right here.” I replied, ignoring the whispered ‘clearly’ from Sam. “She could be wanting to meet up to tell me she’s actually my long-lost sister, and even that wouldn’t shock me with where my mind is right now.”

  I looked towards the wall, taking a few moments to calm my nerves before I looked back at Sam. “What am I going to do?”

  “I’ll tell you what you’re going to do. You’re going to go home, get some sleep, shave that scruffy peach fuzz littering your face and get ready for your date with Helen.” He smiled, punching me lightly in the shoulder after having sat down beside me.

  “Shit!” I suddenly shouted, to the surprise of Sam. “I just realised I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “Rex, man, you can borrow some of mine. I should still have some of my old clothes from a couple of years back that should fit you. No offence.”

  “None taken, if I tried any of your current clothes, I would probably end up looking like a kid wearing their dad’s clothes.” I joked, letting out a ugh along with Sam.

  “Cheers mate, I really appreciate it.” In response, Sam simply gave another smile as he patted me on the shoulder.

  Smiling back, I took a deep breath, knowing I had no other choice but to wait for tomorrow to find out the real reason she wanted to meet. Yet even as I tried to calm my beating heart, I felt an ever-increasing sense of growing excitement build up within me at the thought of seeing Helen once again. A sense of excitement, I was forced to tamp down in order not to get my hopes high, just to have them ter crushed when we met.

  “Just one day of waiting. How bad can it be?”