Mine Would Be You (78)

I got to talk to him about Nina.

His eyes had a knowing look when I first brought her up as he settled in with the banana bread she had made—at the last second—for me to take. “What’s she like?” he asked.

I kicked my feet up on the bed from my chair. “I’m not sure I have enough words, Dad. She’s brilliant. She’s funnier than she gives herself credit for, at least to me she is. She makes me laugh all the time without even trying. And she’s got a tough exterior sometimes.” I smiled. “But she’s also somehow the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Puts everyone above her own needs even when she shouldn’t. And she’s gorgeous.”

“Sounds like how I feel about your mom,” he said, leaning back. “You were such a sap when you were younger, always making Valentine’s cards for school and bringing everyone gifts. You were the most loving child I’d known, and you only wanted love in return. I remember you asking about girls in high school and then stopping in college ‘cause it wasn’t cool to talk to your dad, but I always told you, you’d know. Didn’t know how to explain it, and you didn’t get it. But you would, one day.”

“I get it. I get it now,” I said, and he smiled, saying more with the simple pat on the hand than he could with his words. Like he knew just as well as I did.

I’ve known for a while, but it settled in fully sitting there with him.

That whole first week, Nina and I facetimed whenever I wasn’t at the hospital, which wasn’t often and was usually late, but she answered every time. Usually at her desk working on an article or curled up into her bed. Finally, I caught her during the day so she could meet my dad. He took the phone out of my hand before I could blink, and they hit it off instantly. He told stories about me as a kid, like teaching me how to drive stick shift or ride ATV’s or playing basketball together. Nina told him about the magazine and how I bought them for her, about the swan boats and how excited she was to meet him. My heart had swelled in my chest at the sight.

Since I had been away for Nina’s twenty-fourth birthday at the beginning of October, I sent three separate packages. At work, she got delivered chocolate covered strawberries, a weakness I’d discovered from talking to her parents. A bouquet of marigolds and tulips at her apartment, since I found out she loved those from Harper and Sloan. And since she still had an old-school CD player in her room, I sent her the burnt CD of the country playlist. We’d talked from when she got off work until she fell asleep, and she’d listened to my horrible rendition of “Happy Birthday,” despite her protests, and I was rewarded with a smile. The one she saves just for me.

It felt like even though I wasn’t there, she was with me.

Those days my dad was smiling and walking, and doctors were hopeful.

But now, it’s been almost five weeks.

And he’s still in the hospital. We all smile less and sit in silence more. Every passing day, my shoulders get a little heavier and the distance between Nina and I gets a little bit larger.

We don’t talk as much; I only call when I don’t feel overwhelmed by everything since I’m working from home and practically living in the hospital with my dad. I haven’t talked to her on the phone in over a week and have had to settle for sporadic text messages.

It’s not that I don’t want to. I want to talk to Nina all the time, every day. But it’s harder and harder to put on a smile when my dad is getting worse.

His heart is declining, he’s constantly getting tests done, EKG’s, echo’s, scans, the whole nine yards. Him and I talk about everything under the sun, sports, New York, what he is—was—building, and I tell him about Myles and how we haven’t talked, because I’m ignoring him now, and I talk about everything except what life would become if my dad was no longer here. He tries to get me to talk about things, about what might happen, and every time I ignore it. Settling deeply into denial. Wanting to spend as much time with him as possible without addressing the possibility of losing him.

And not that Nina needs me to fake a smile on the phone, but I’m also running out of things to say.

Watching my dad decline is sending me somewhere I’ve never been, and I don’t want anyone to worry about me. So, instead of pretending, I just don’t say anything.

But I have time now, and I don’t hesitate to press her name, at the top of my favorites list in my phone. She answers after the second ring as I climb into the car I rented, sighing as I lean against the seat.

“Hello?” She sounds hesitant. The sound of her voice lifts my shoulders a fraction. But right now, it’s not enough to make a difference.

I miss Nina so much, but I don’t feel like the person she knew anymore.

I don’t feel like anyone except someone who might lose their dad.




Nina



“Hey,” Jackson sighs out, and instantly, I know this isn’t going to be a night where I can distract him or send him any light. Sadness seeps through the phone.

This had been one of those weeks that just won’t go my way. It feels like the entire world is working against me, and no matter how hard I try, no matter how positive I try to stay, the world laughs in my face and sends something else. I thought that when I left work today, because it was Friday maybe I’d catch a break. But no. Apparently spilling my coffee all over myself this morning wasn’t enough—or accidentally deleting my article. The final straw was someone spilling their entire smoothie on me on the subway home.