My Life in Shambles(54)

“I don’t need yer help,” he says, and tries to push me away but he can’t even move his arm. “I’m not a cripple.”

I know Valerie would cringe at that word but I don’t bother saying anything to my dad about it now. He’s about the most un-PC guy I know.

Still, I help him and tell Gail I’ll take it from here.

“I don’t think you know what you’re doing,” Gail says.

“Walking my dad to his bed?” I say to her over my dad’s head. “I think I can manage.”

“Padraig, just leave me be,” my dad says, wincing in pain. “Knowing yer track record, you’ll probably drop me.”

That was a low blow, even for a guy in a lot of pain.

I somehow manage to swallow my anger, but I don’t step away either. I keep him supported as Gail opens the door, and together we lead him inside and over to his bed.

“Ach, can I get some privacy now?” he says, head lolling against the pillow. “Away with ye.”

“Can we get you anything?” Gail asks.

“Am I allowed more pills?”

“No.”

“Then away with ye. Leave me in peace.”

He closes his eyes and promptly begins to snore, either really asleep or badly faking it.

We exit the cottage and Gail tries to hurry back to the house, but I pull her aside. “How was it? The doctor. What happened?”

“Oh, ye want to know? Do ye know I’ve been helping your dad for months now and I never even heard a peep outta ye.”

Hmmm. It’s possible that Gail isn’t mad at me because I was an arse when we were together, just that I’ve been neglecting my dad.

“I know. I’ve had a rough go,” I explain, though it sounds weak to my ears, even if it’s the truth.

“This whole time? You could have checked in.”

“I did. Many times. Nan said everything was fine.”

“Because she didn’t want to worry ye.”

“So, fine. That’s what I thought. That everything was fine.”

“You never asked how I was doing.”

I frown. “I’m sorry?”

She rolls her eyes and now I have no idea what her deal is. “Anyway, the doctor, he’s good enough.”

“But he’s a country doctor. My doctor in Dublin, he knows a specialist, there are ways they can help.”

She shrugs. “That’s up to you and your father. Do you really want to take him up to Dublin? There’s nothing they can do. You know that by now, don’t ye?”

I swallow, refusing to accept it even though I’ve known the reality. “He could pull through.”

She presses her lips together and shakes her head. “No. He’s not going to. He only has a month left, six weeks at most.”

“A month,” I repeat dumbly, feeling like I’ve received a blow. “They … Nan said he had months. At least six months. Maybe a year.”

“I’m sorry, Padraig,” she says. “Those were always hopeful estimates. But your dad is … he’s in a lot of pain.”

“I know.”

“No. Not just physically. Emotionally. Losing his family.”

I look at her sharply. “He hasn’t lost everything. I’m here now.”

“But you’re not really, are ye? You’re here because you feel guilt and you want to patch things up until he goes. You want to absolve yourself. You want to prove something to him, but he knows you wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“You know nothing about me.”

She folds her arms. “You’re right. I don’t. And I don’t think your fiancé knows ye either.”

My jaw tightens. “This has nothing to do with her. This is about my father. And I don’t care what you and your Holy Joe attitude have to say about it. I’m here and I’m staying here because I’m his son.”

“If you’re his son, maybe you should show him that.”

“I’m trying.”

“You’re trying the wrong way and for the wrong reasons. Look, ye know he’s a deeply unhappy man and always has been, ever since your mam and sister died. He’s a broken shell of a person. Sometimes I think you might be the same. And, it’s truly sad, but it might be too late for the both of ye.”

And at that she leaves, hurrying off to the house and disappearing inside.

Leaving me outside.

Just a shell of a man.

Maybe she’s right.

I’ve spent my whole life going through the motions. Before my mother and sister died, I’d spent all my time pleasing my dad. After they died, I did everything I could to anger him. The moment I was old enough to leave the house and play rugby professionally, I did. I dedicated every waking second to the game because there was nothing else to dedicate my time and my life to. My beloved mother was gone and my father hated me. There was nothing else but my career.

And now what.

Now I don’t have the game.

And without the game, who am I?

A broken shell of a man.

“Padraig?”

Valerie’s soft voice breaks through the darkness that swirls around me, reminding me that I’m standing in the sunshine, not swept into that internal black hole, the one I might never come out of.