Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
After breakfast, he headed off to the arena and I drove to the rehab center where Dad has been for the last two weeks.
I hear voices coming down a hall behind a swinging wooden door and distinctly recognize my father’s. I stand from the chair, rubbing my hands one more time to dry them.
I shouldn’t be this nervous to see a man I love with all my heart. An amazing father, a gentle creature who, while he has his faults, has loved Aiden and me better than any father could have. A man I respect so much for knowing it was time to get help and for putting in the hard work so he could be a better person, not only for himself but for his children.
The door swings open and there he stands. For a moment, I’m slightly discombobulated over the change in his appearance.
It’s been almost three weeks since Boone took Dad from the hospital that day he showed up drunk. Five days of medical detox, followed by Dad’s decision to go into a two-week inpatient program. I can’t say that any singular change is glaring, but he looks… healthy. Not that I ever thought he looked unhealthy before, but maybe his skin was starting to look a little sallow, his face a bit gaunt.
Now it’s full of color and the smile he bestows upon me is bright and natural, not forced with an underlying hint of tension. His eyes are clear and keenly present. His clothes don’t look so baggy on his body.
All subtle things, but when you put them together, it tells one certain truth. Alcohol had been changing my father so subtly, I’m not even sure I’d begun to recognize it.
“Lilly Bug,” my dad says as he drops the handle to his rolling suitcase and opens his arms to me. I run across the dingy tiled floor and throw myself at him.
Yes… even his hug is stronger. More confident. As if he can shoulder burden.
“Oh, Daddy.” I press my face into his shoulder. “It’s so good to see you. Aiden and I have missed you so much.”
We hug for a long time, each unwilling to let the other go. It’s not until someone clears their throat that I realize we’re not alone.
My father’s counselor, Mary, holds out her hand to me. I’d imagined Mary was older, sage and filled with wisdom she’d bestow upon my father. I’m surprised to see that she can’t be more than her mid-thirties with a sweet cherub face framed with ringlets of chestnut curls. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, Lilly. I feel like I’ve gotten to know you and Aiden as well as your father the last few weeks. You kids have been the driving force behind his grit and recovery.”
“We’re just so glad he’s coming home.”
Mary turns to my dad and gives him a brief hug. When they pull apart, she tips her head down, lifting her eyes to peer at him intently. “What’s your homework?”
“Find an AA meeting today.”
I worry at my bottom lip. “Are there some sort of discharge instructions I need to help out with?”
My dad laughs. “No, honey. The game plan is very simple… and that is not to drink again. I’m already set up for the outpatient program and I’ll start that tomorrow, but I will try to get into an AA meeting tonight. I got the list your friend Harlow gave me, so it won’t be a problem.”
I throw my arms around his neck again. “Just so damn proud of you.”
We say our goodbyes to Mary and walk out to my car with our arms wrapped around each other as he drags his rolling suitcase behind us. Dad settles into the passenger seat and leans his head against the window as I drive to the hospital.
“It looks brighter outside,” he says in a gently reflective voice.
“Is that because you don’t have the fog of alcohol?” I ask.
Dad chuckles. “Pretty sure that’s exactly it, although spring has finally sprung around here, so there’s that.”
We chat during the drive and Dad tells me all about the past two weeks, which consisted of a lot of therapy—both individual and group—as well as self-reflection. He also started working out and is eager to continue with that.
I tell him everything about Aiden, although it’s not a complete surprise. Even though Dad was not allowed to have outside contact, Mary passed on the updates. They believed it was crucial to his recovery that he be kept apprised of Aiden’s condition and was given assurances that if things turned south, he would be allowed to visit the hospital.
There aren’t many gaps to fill in but I might go a little overboard in focusing on all the positive stuff from the last few weeks in Aiden’s marrow recovery. My biggest fear is that the slightest bit of stress will cause Dad to hit the bottle, so I don’t talk about the hovering threat of infection or the multitude of drugs Aiden takes every day.