"No matter your problems, face them with a bright smile and a bucket of chocolate ice-cream," nana once wisely told me. At the time, I was barely twelve and thought that I could summon a unicorn if I just believed in myself.
A decade later, despi...
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Maeva's point of view
"Flecainide, 100mg," says Dad. I guess the tic-tac trick did not work on him. He must've found one of the medication boxes laying in my room, or overheard one of my conversations with Daniel.
"Maeva, are you okay?" The medic asks while pushing a red button on the raging heart monitor. As I nod to her, she returns to her seat, addressing my father, which gives me some time to process the rush of emotions flooding my brain, "Was she prescribed other medications, sir?"
He answers, ever so confidently, mentioning names, doses, and dates of prescriptions. It's like he was there with me, day by day and episode by episode. He knows everything, no detail has escaped from him and he's even mentioned incidents I'd forgotten about.
"Dad..." He stares at me, faintly smiling and I remember the last time he made that face of his.
I was seventeen, and planning on taking his car keys to go and give a guy my notes from French class. Now, it was not just any guy! It was Danny Ambers. The captain of the baseball team and the most gorgeous and gallant being I have ever met, at the time.
Apparently, my father had noticed that I was gawking too much at the guy when he picked me up from school, and so he thought that it would be right to discuss the matter with my shy, teenaged and tenacious self. Needless to say, I denied the whole crush thing and ended up getting in an intense argument with him for not letting me take the car.
I don't know how he does it. No matter how much I hide or avoid him, dad always seems to know everything that's going on in my life. No detail escapes from him, but he always acts like he's unaware of it all. Never have I seen him get surprised on his birthday, or at any of the surprises that my mother and I plan for him. Even when I came to him the day before I went to France, and told him that I was leaving, he didn't even flinch. No sign of surprise or whatsoever.
The loud ring snaps me out of my reverie and the doctor looks at her phone, raising an index, and asks for a moment to take the incoming call.
"Why didn't you tell me about the episodes you were having, Maeva?" he calmly asks.
"I, it's just..." I'm lost at words and cannot seem to have the power to open my mouth any further. He takes it as a clear sign to continue, as the doctor's voice echoes faintly in the background.
"Sweetheart, I know you were looking after your mother by not telling her that you're sick, but fleeing the country was not the solution. Yes, she was devastated when nana passed away, and she would've probably gone through another depression if you told her about your disease, but that doesn't mean you have to deal with everything on your own just to protect us."
The minute my mother got the news of her mother's death, she refused to believe it. She locked herself in her room, and refused to come out no matter how much Anthony, who was only five at the time, cried begged her to hold him. That month was like hell to my father and I. We had to take care of the funeral, look after a toddler, and make sure mom was taking her medication and not starving herself to death.
