I nodded, moving my bag out of the way as she took my arm and guided us into the hallway.
When the door was closed, she stood before me for a long minute, wringing her hands, lip between her teeth. She couldn't look at me.
"Soph," I said softly, gently, "what's going on?"
She opened her mouth to speak but took a shaky breath instead. Then she met my eyes. "It's not just the stroke, Wade."
I couldn't swallow my fear. I tried, but it stayed lodged where it was. "What do you mean?"
"They did scans and … and …" Her eyes darted, her bottom lip trembling.
I reached for her hands, willing her to look at me as my pulse raced, hands tingling from adrenaline and foreboding. "Sophie, just tell me."
A fat tear slipped down her cheek as she looked into my eyes and hit the detonator on my heart. "He has brain cancer, Wade. They've given us a few weeks before he's gone …"
If she said more, I didn't hear her. My knees buckled, and I reached for the wall to brace myself, turning to press my forehead against the cool veneer. It couldn't be possible, couldn't be real. It was a dream. A nightmare.
Gone.
I fought the truth. He was too young, too healthy. He was a superhero: immune. I wasn't old enough to lose him — I was supposed to have years. Years and years. I'd already lost one parent, a loss I'd never recovered from, a loss that changed the course of my life. And now, I'd be alone.
He taught me how to be a man. He gave me everything.
I was supposed to have more time.
Time, time, time.
I'd been gone too long. I'd avoided coming home, and because of that, I wasn't here for him, for my family. I'd abandoned him, and now … now … now I'd lose him forever.
I sank to my knees there in the hallway with my sister sobbing at my side, wrapping her arms around me as best she could, and we cried together. If only our tears could change what had come to pass.
Now I just had to make up for my absence as best I could in the time I had left. Now I would be present, consequences be damned. I'd handled so much, seen so much, witnessed war and death and suffering firsthand. I knew what to do and how to do it.
I also knew it would be the hardest thing I'd ever do.
We stood and held each other a little longer, hanging on to one another. Because we were all we had left.
I pulled away when I could finally speak. "Where's Sadie?"
Sophie drew in a breath and let it out, trying to calm herself. "She's at home. I couldn't tell her without you. I'm sorry … I wish … I wish …." She shook her head.
I swallowed again and pulled her into a hug. "It's all right. I'm here. We'll do it together, okay?"
She nodded.
I looked toward the door to his room, seeing nothing. "What do we do now?"
"We have an appointment with hospice in an hour to talk about our options."
Options. The remainder of my father's life had been whittled down to options for his death. "Is he … can he speak? How is he?"
Sophie rubbed her nose and let me go. "They say he was lucky. The clot was in the right hemisphere, so he can speak and comprehend, but he can't read. His speech is affected because of his paralysis, but he's already more clear today than he was yesterday. The doctor says that will get even better, but he probably won't be able to use his left hand or walk again before …" She looked toward his door. "He knows this is it, and he wants to go home."
"Then that's what we'll fight for."
We stood in silence. Sophie finally broke it, touching my arm. "Are you ready?"
I took a breath and squared my shoulders as best as I could under the weight. I didn't answer her question. There was no way to be ready for any of it, but I opened the door anyway and stepped into that room to face fears I hadn't even known were real until a few minutes ago.
When the door closed behind us, he opened his eyes, turning his head to the sound. And half of his face came alive with joy and pain and fear when he saw me.
"My boy," he said, the words thick.
"Hey, Dad." My voice was rough, and I cleared my throat as I walked over to him, reaching for his hand. He squeezed it hard and let it go with tears in his eyes, and when I bent, he cupped the back of my neck and pressed his forehead to mine.
"Long time," he muttered, the words shaky.
"I'm here now," I answered, begging his forgiveness.
"Glad," he whispered, and I pulled away. Sophie stood back, her fingers pressed to her lips, tear-stained cheeks shining as she watched us.
The door opened behind me, and I turned, unprepared for who I found.
Her cheeks were flushed, eyes big and shining, wet with tears, chest heaving from running or from proximity to me, I didn't know.
Elliot.
Her name in my mind was a curse I couldn't escape, a ghost that haunted me day after day, year after year since I'd seen her last so long ago.
Time stretched out in the moment, the two of us caught in it like a web, but we didn't struggle, didn't fight. Instead, we witnessed the past standing in front of us, alive and intact. She was the past I'd been running from for seven long, lonely years.
Dad cut the tie, saying her name with reverence, and I stepped back as she stepped forward, keeping my pain in front of me, as if it could shield me from her.
She tried to smile, forehead furrowed and brows pinched with her sadness as she turned all of her attention to him.
"Rick," she whispered, bending to kiss his forehead, and he looked at her just like he did my sisters. She'd been a part of our family from the second she crossed the threshold of our home.
"Sadie?" he asked, wondering after our youngest sister.
Elliot glanced at me, just a flick of her eyes to me and back to my father, but I felt the burn of her even in that small moment.
"She's at home. Sophie and Wade haven't told her yet."
He closed his eyes and nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I'm sorry," he tried to say, but the words were muffled and slurred.
"No," Elliot said, her voice shaking, her lips smiling sadly. "There are no sorrys, not for anyone. Especially not for you. Everything in its time. Now let the night be dark for all of me Let the night be too dark for me to see Into the future. Let what will be, be."
He smiled. "Robert Frost."
She smiled back, though her chin flexed, trembling as she held his hand. "Don't be afraid. You exist. You'll never cease."
He nodded again, a tear slipping down his temple on his left side, and she wiped it, knowing he couldn't. And I broke, not able to show it.
3
As Air
For every breath
And every beat of my heart
Carries me farther away
From you.
* * *
-M. White