Disconnected

Chapter Sixty- Nine

Daniella

The door to my childhood home is rusty and the lawn is untamed. It is as if they have just completely given up on renovations to keep the house looking as nice as all of the other houses in the neighborhood. My parents' standards have really dropped since I last saw them.

I ring the doorbell and return my arm to Michael, snaking it around his and looping our fingers together at the bottom.

The door swings open and my dad stands in the now open doorway, staring.

"Hi dad." I try to smile but find that I am unable to even fake one long enough to make it be even close to convincing.

"Daniella?" He asks, continuing to stare without saying another word. He shakes his head. "This isn't a good time. You should leave." He behind closing the door.

I stick my hand out to stop him. "W-what?" I ask. "Dad, I want you to meet-" he stops me.

"And I want you to go! Leave!" He shouts.

"Sir!" Michael screams. My father turns to glare at the mysterious man I have wrapped myself around. "She just wants to visit her parents. She hasn't been home in over a decade. She wants to be home." He fights for me.

"And I don't want her here. I think I have made that very clear. You both need to leave before I call the police." My father spits at us with a rage that is unknown to me. He has never been this bitter towards me before. What made him change?

"Let's just go." I say quietly to Michael, tugging on his arm. 

"No!" He protests. "We came all this way to see your parents so let's see them! I will sit on this porch all night if I have to."

My father laughs. "Ha! You want to see us?" He asks rhetorically. "Come in. Come in and see what is left of us."

Michael and I enter the house and immediately see what terrible conditions we saw outside have also carried over to the inside as well. They aren't taking care of the house at all. Trash is thrown everywhere, glass from broken picture frames is scattered along the floor everywhere you look, the plants look as if they have been dead for years, and the windows are so covered in dirt, you can't even see outside anymore. This is terrible.

Michael helps me up the stairs as I follow my father to his bedroom. My mother lays asleep in a hospital-grade bed with various tubes and wires connected to her. A doctor stands by her bedside.

"Doctor," my dad interrupts him. "This is my nosey daughter and her nosier boyfriend apparently." He introduces us.

"Good evening. I'm doctor Royce, your mothers oncologist." He walks over to shake my hand.

"Wait, oncologist? Like-" I pause.

"Cancer." Doctor Royce, my dad, and I all speak at the same time.

I shake my head. Why did no one tell me? Why did no one bother to call? I could have helped. I could have been here. All this time and no one thought I deserved to know?

"I'm afraid your mother has stage four breast cancer. I'd say she only has a few weeks to live but I think that is very generous. She is in very bad condition." The doctor updates me on her condition.

I drop Michael's hand, suddenly feeling the tips of my limbs go numb. This can't be happening. Why is this happening?

"She's, she's dying?" I ask, even though I know what stage four means. That and he just clearly told me she is dying right in front of our eyes in that bed.

"Yes, Daniella. Like right now. And you decided this is the perfect time to come visit and introduce your boyfriend to me apparently." He shakes his head. "What a terrible first impression you have both made."

"Dad, please." I want to say I am sorry. I want to apologize. Though, I do not know why. He has been terrible to me so far in my life and this moment is no exception. But he is losing his wife and he knows there is nothing he can do about it. I feel for him. My heart aches for him.

"Please, just leave us alone." My dad slumps down in the seat beside her bed.

I nod. "I just need to grab a few things and then we will be on our way. You will ever hear from me again."

He nods. "Good. Go."