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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item.php/item_id/2085927-Dad
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Drama · #2085927
Based on a true story
It’s 5PM on a Saturday. I just came home after seeing a movie. I walk into our modest mobile home. It’s relatively new and lacking in what you would call white trash memorabilia. I see Dad watching TV. He’s got a bottle of Schnapps open on the table and is smoking again. Only a week ago he left the hospital against his doctor’s orders. I think he was just sick of being unable to smoke and didn’t want to run up a huge medical bill. He was in the hospital because he was having heart trouble. Now here he is doing both things that were trying to kill him.
“Hey Dad, I’m going to my room”
“Hey Buddy, did you eat?”
“I will in a bit.”
I ducked into my room to go online. I’m not commenting on what my dad does anymore. He’s had a drinking problem since before my mom died. I hear him cough a bit as I light shut my door. I browse some gaming websites while wondering what I should do for the night. I had quit my part time job as a movie rental clerk so I could find a full time job with benefits. My days were pretty free and my nights were troublesome. I could hear him hacking again. I don’t remember how long to took but I realized he hadn’t stopped coughing for a long while. I crack the door, he’s still hacking up a lung. What was he doing? I come back to the living room. His eyes are bulging wide. His cheeks are crimson. I didn’t know if he could breathe but I asked, “DAD, what’s wrong? Should I call 911?”
He looked down as he mustered up some way of speaking. As he looked up he gasped, “NO!” I saw him try for a couple seconds to say something else. He just collapsed back on the couch. A sound emanated out of him like the last bit of water in a tub circling the drain. His eyes were open but he wasn’t moving.
“DAD!” I yelled.
“DAD!”
Knowing I had to call paramedics I rushed to the phone. I dialed 119, NO! 991, NO! 911 I could hear ringing. I glanced down at him. He hadn’t moved.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“My dad collapsed back on the couch.”
“OK, where is he?”
“He’s on the couch with his head back.”
“I need you to get him lying flat. the paramedics are on their way.”
“OK I’m putting the phone down.”
I laid the receiver down on the counter and struggled to understand just what to do. Do I try and slide him down the couch or just get him to the floor? I decided to just pull his legs until he was resting on the floor. I faced him and grabbed his legs and pulled. He slid down the couch like water. I realized too late that I didn’t consider his head as it bounced on the carpet.
“Oh fuck” I said.
I snatched the phone off the counter and said, “Ok he’s on his back.” “OK good the paramedics are almost there, I want you to hang up with me and go make sure the door is open. They’ll be able to help you.”
I slammed the phone down and ran to the door. The medics were there waiting and I called them in.
They lifted him into the ambulance and slammed the rear doors. The exterior lights were still on and clashed with the bright orange street light right next to the emergency vehicle. I was standing at the bottom of the driveway when the EMT walked up to me.
“We’re taking him to Holy Family. DO you know where that is?”
I silently nodded. I’m sure my face was worried but there was no one at the wheel when it came to my end of this conversation.
“OK good, well when we leave you can’t follow right behind us. Just go to the ER when you get to the hospital.”
I again nodded in silence. The EMT nodded back and went into the ambulance. I expected them to peel out but they stayed right there. Several seconds ticked by; they didn’t move. I asked myself why this was happening. I knew why, my dad had been drinking himself silly and had a heart attack last week. Ok, so what’s going on? Why haven’t the EMT’s left for the hospital yet. The thought walked through the door and I slammed it. Maybe his heart still wasn’t beating. What does that mean? Is he dead? Is my entire family just gone? How long has it been?
They haven’t left yet! I was certain that 10 minutes had passed. I resisted the idea that he was dead because I couldn’t comprehend what that meant for me. I was only 18, I have no job, I have no immediate fam- NO I can’t think about that.
The ambulance moved into gear and left. I sighed a bit and turned towards my Mercury Mystique. It was a 25 minute drive to the hospital. I considered his odds. I considered what my life would be like without him, without any parents. That excited me, WHY DID THAT EXCITE ME!? I left my thoughts to the radio and driving. The roads were quiet, and it didn’t help distract me from what I was constantly worried to be true. I refused to acknowledge it as long as there was a chance for him. I couldn’t let those thoughts in because I knew I was going to be unable to function.
The hospital emergency room wasn’t utter chaos like I expected just a usual night with other people dealing with their own traumas. I walked up to the check in desk. The clerk looked up and her face flashed with interest and then concern. Like when you hear the fire alarm but then see the flames.
“How can I help you dear?”, she said with a practiced tone.
“My Dad…”
The thoughts were packed in behind my eyes she knew what I was asking already.
“They just brought him in the ambulance.”
“What’s his name?”
“Bruno Aiello”
She typed it in and studied her results for only a few seconds.
“OK, looks like they’re still working on him, what is your name sir?”
“Andrew Aiello, his son.”
“Ok, someone will be out soon to talk to you once they’re finished.”
“Thanks.”
I still managed a thanks. All i can operate on is common courtesy. There was a block of chairs in the middle of the room. I sat down in the front row next to a hispanic family. The father is holding his son as he laid stretched out on the next 2 seats. I considered what their trouble could be but quickly became numb and centered on staring at the door to the actual emergency room. The moments clicked by and I was reminded of waiting for someone at the airport or at least how people wait at an airport in the movies. Just outside the gate, any person coming out is studied in hopes that it’s the person they’re waiting for. In this case I have no clue who I’m waiting for. Minutes went by, that door opened hundreds of times.
“Andrew… I...ILO?”
I stood and walked towards the 30 something male doctor. His face was solemn.
“Andrew will you follow me to this consulting room?”
I nodded and we walked 30 feet into a small room off to the side of the waiting area. Inside it was cramped, like a small eye doctors office. There were tissues and a small bench. I sat on it and he sat on a stool across from me. He started explaining what the EMTs did. I just kept repeating in my head “Get on with it!” After a few more seconds of delay he finally said the words “Unable to resuscitate”. A Hoover dam was building between my eyes. The doctor saw it happening. I was barely listening when he asked if I would like to speak to the on-staff pastor, I thanked him but declined- God had never made sense to me especially now. “OK well please take your time but I will need to you identify the body, when you’re ready.”
The door shut and there was nothing left to hide from. I cursed and clawed and wrung out every bit of feeling I had been holding back. I’m sure the waiting area could hear me, it didn’t matter. Everything was over, I couldn’t get back to anything my life had been up until now. The tears let loose and my guttural groans grew less coherent. 10 minutes later I had a wad tissues soaked and nearly no liquid in my head.
Red-eyed and a damp mess I exited the grieving room. After notifying the clerk I was ready the doctor came back out to lead me to him. Not far from the entrance just behind a curtain was someone under a heavy plastic cloth.
“Just need a verbal confirmation.”
The cloth was removed and I realized I couldn’t look at him. It was the last time I’d see him and I couldn’t look. I started at his feet they were pale I looked away towards his head but stopped at the neck. FOr only a brief glimpse I saw him. The medics had closed his eyes but the eyes themselves bulged out like they didn’t know his eyelids were there. His skin was so pale compared to the olive tone he usually had.
“Yeah”, cluttered past my lips.
The doctor nodded and said, “Ok, that’s all I need. If you go back to the waiting room we’ll get you the needed information. You should call someone.”
I called my Aunt, she was the only one I could call. As I waited for her the ideas of what I could do now filled my head. Why was I excited by this? What the fuck is wrong with me?
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item.php/item_id/2085927-Dad