Rushed(27)

"I do have to. First, you need something better for breakfast than cereal and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Secondly, I never gave you the address for the laundry, and you can't get your stuff otherwise. Unless you want the team to see those pink underpants you've got."

I laugh, thinking of the pair of stretch boxer briefs she's talking about, a joke gift from a coach who did a summer seminar with a university in Japan. "Hey, those look damn sexy on me! You behave, and I might let you see them."

"Yes, sir. I can be a very well behaved girl," April purrs, then stops, surprised. "Did I just say that?"

"You did, and it's great to see that side of you," I say, leaning down and kissing her again. "Remember, we've got a date on Sunday too."

"See you tomorrow, Tyler."





Chapter 10





April





My heart is racing in my chest as I get home, thinking about what Tyler told me just a half hour ago. I sensed so many things, but I couldn't be sure, never sure if what he was saying was the truth or just a bunch of lies to get back in my pants.

But in the parking lot, the look in his eyes, the honesty in his voice . . . besides, I knew what Lance Pollard told him. Thankfully, a couple of the guys were willing to share with me, and I found out the truth of what Lance said. Not that I'm surprised, Lance Pollard's always been a cocky *, and tried to hit on me soon after I joined the team. I didn't reject him too strongly then, but never said yes, so he dropped it when he found a girl who would say yes.

So when Tyler says that he wants to see where this can go, I let my heart loose a little bit more, and drive to the laundry, grabbing his now clean clothes, which are folded and repacked carefully in a bag for him.

I'm just getting off the elevator when my phone rings, and I see it's from Dad. "Hey Daddy!" I answer excitedly. It's been a few days, and he’s been struggling with being strong enough to answer the phone, the chemo's been hell on him. "How're you?"

"Not good, honey," Dad says, his typical blunt self. Stoic, blunt . . . my Dad's the stereotypical First Nations man, but he's only a half himself. He's the one I get my hair and skin tone from, although Mom's French Canadian is part of it.

"What's wrong?" I ask, opening my door and getting inside my place. I put my backpack on the counter that is both my dining room table and my kitchen preparation area, and sit down on the barstool chair. "You sound stronger."

"They stopped the chemo today," Dad says as an explanation, and the double meanings hit me like a punch to the gut. The doctors have told me, there's only two reasons that they'd stop the chemo. Either my his cancer has once again gone into remission . . .

"Daddy . . . no, no," I whisper, my eyes filling with tears.

"I'm sorry honey. The docs say there's no hope. The most they can do is keep me comfortable until . . . until it's my time."

I sob, not wanting to but unable to stop it. He doesn't need to hear weakness right now, he needs to hear strength. He's always taught me that, and now he needs that more than ever. I try, and find myself failing, until Tyler's face comes to my mind's eye, and I pull myself together. "So what now?"

Dad takes a deep breath, then chuckles. "We get to go to the hospice house. They'll let me and Marie spend as much time together as we can. I actually got to see her today . . . she remembered me."

“That's good. Dad, I don't want to be harsh about this, but what about the hospice care levels? I remember what you told me last time I visited, the hospice house doesn't have round the clock nurse care."

"No, it doesn't. Insurance provides for a visit every other day, except if there's an issue. I'll have one of those little call button things around my neck."

Every other day? With Mom having near late-stage early onset Alzheimer's, and Dad being a terminal cancer patient? "What if I contribute? How much would a daily visit from the nurses run?"

"I don't know, honey. But I can't ask you to do that. You're already doing so much, even if you never tell me about it. I asked the hospital admin folks. You should be using that money to make your life better, not paying for two people who are dying."

I shake my head, wiping the tears from my cheeks. "Daddy, you're not going to convince me to stop, so don't even try. I'm going to be calling the hospital admin anyway and try to set up what I can. Mom can't help take care of you, and you can't do much to help take care of her."

"I can and will take care of my wife as long as I can," my father rumbles, his First Nations pride adding strength to his voice. He may only be half, but he's been through a cancerous hell that'd kill most men twice over… and still he's strong. "You know my will in this."

"I know, but . . . please. Let me help you as best I can."

"Fine," he says finally, dropping the subject. He and I talk for another few minutes, normal things where I ask him about his day and he asks about mine, nothing new until his next to last question. "And the young man you’re seeing?"

"We're going to go on another date tomorrow. He wants to take me kayaking."

"That sounds good. If there is a chance . . . I think I'd like to meet him."