Page 22 of Play the Last Card

“Not tonight though. You’ve got a date.”

I shake my head. “You’re ridiculous. It’s one date. Stop thinking he’s my soulmate.”

“What if he is though?”

“I doubt it, Pops.” He laughs with me but it’s quieter than before, like he’s struggling to keep something in. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I—” He coughs a little, “I’m fine, Iv—” Before he can finish, a burst of coughs takes over him and I rush back to his side to help him sit forward. I watch, helpless, as he reaches a shaky hand into his pocket for his handkerchief, covering his mouth.

“Pops?” I ask, the coughing continuing.

He pulls his hand away, his face a little red but still devoid of any real color. There’s blood on the white cloth and I feel my whole body start to shake. I don’t hesitate this time. “Carol!”

***

Carol promises me before she leaves, handing over to the evening nurses, that Pops is fine. She tells me that it’s nothing to worry about, that his body is just tired and a little bit of blood is perfectly normal. I insist she bring in one of the overstuffed, uncomfortable night chairs. Pops protested but once he fell asleep I overruled him anyway. He’s been sleeping for over an hour but I refuse to move from his side.

I check my phone for the time. It’s a little after five. Scott will just have to wait.

Ivy:I need a rain check. I’m really sorry. My pops had a medical emergency, he’s in the hospital.

The reply is instant.

Scott:Of course.

Is he okay?

Ivy:Not really.

Scott:Can I do anything for you?

The band that appeared around my heart the moment I laid eyes on the man cinched a little tighter.

Ivy:That’s okay. I just don’t want to leave him alone.

Scott:I understand.

I can’t bring myself to reply so I don’t. I lay the phone on the table next to me and sink back into the uncomfortable chair. The blinds are down, blocking out the afternoon sun. I pull the blanket covering my legs up under my chin and focus on Pops.

He’ll be fine.

He’ll be fine.

I say it over and over again in my head in the hopes that if I say it enough, it will become a reality.

Pops wakes up sometime around ten and kicks me out, promptly ordering me home and not taking no as a response. The drive is slow and silent. My knuckles are almost white against the steering wheel as I argue with myself to not cry. My body is heavy as I pull into the garage and I don’t have the energy to make it upstairs so I head for the couch, stopping by the freezer for the pint of ice cream stashed in the back. I’ll have to run an extra mile tomorrow to make up for it but I can’t bring myself to care.

I curl into a ball in my corner of the couch, blanket pulled over myself and ice cream resting against my curled knees. I flick through Netflix,pretending to be interested in the new shows before settling on watchingFriends. Half way through a second episode and half the pint of ice cream, my phone chimes.

Scott:How’s your pops?

Ivy:He’s okay … they said it’s normal. Old age, I guess.

Scott:Ah.

I’m sorry, though.

For what it’s worth.