Chapter 27 – When Your Song Becomes the OST of Your Life
And it makes me think there must be something wrong with me
Out of all the hours thinking somehow
I've lost my mind
“Transient Ischemic Attack,” Nate muttered turning his back on me. “The doctor reckoned he must’ve been having chest pains for a while now. And the rousing blunder you made in front of national television triggered a severe attack that almost paralyzed half of his body.”
I just sat there blankly beside Dad’s hospital bed, watching him sleep. Dad looked pale and really tired. After three seconds, I got off the chair and leaned on the wall.
Hospitals make me uneasy since Sarah’s accident. Just being in the room gave me a really bad feeling. Like Doom’s Day would be coming anytime now. Doctors said he’d be fine in a few days. Still, I kept having this sinking feeling in my stomach.
“The news was awful,” my brother added, closing his eyes to smoothen the crease on his forehead. “This isn’t good. Not good at all. You should’ve stuck with the plan.”
“What plan?” I glared at him. “Oh, you mean the one that didn’t work. And who made that plan again? Who said he knows exactly what Megan was thinking? You’re one to talk.”
“Don’t put the blame on me,” he hissed, checking to make sure that Dad was still asleep. “I’ve helped with all your foolish doings and I am done.”
I caught my head in my hands. Nothing made sense anymore. “I just… I’m doing this for Sarah.”
Heatedly, Nate stood up from his chair. He faced the window, and then turned to me.
“You see, that’s your problem, Leon. It’s you’re obsession over her that brings about this kind of trouble. It has always been Sarah this, Sarah that. Heck, just about your whole life revolves on her. You forget about everything else! Even Dad!”
“That’s not true!” My voice raised a notch higher than my brother’s.
“For God’s sake, Leon! Wake up. Move on!”
I was thinking of something to say back when Dad stirred and opened his eyes. “Boys,” he said in a firm but papery voice. “Don’t fight.”
With a sigh, Nathan shrunk back in his chair, throwing a meaningful look at me. “We’re not fighting, Dad.”
“Yeah,” I added, trying to calm myself down, my fingernails digging in my palm. “We’re just… exchanging opinions. Everything’s fine, Dad. How’re you feeling?”
Gently shaking his head, Arthur pushed himself up to sit. We’d have helped him up but we knew better than to make Dad feel vulnerable. It’d just start another row. And this time, it’d be three-way.
“Good,” Dad answered, looking unconvinced. “Good enough to go home,” he added.
Nathan tried to talk him into staying a few more days in the hospital. That was what the doctors said. He needed lots of rest and his vitals needed to be monitored twenty-four-seven to make sure the attack won’t reccur. As always, Dad was too stubborn.
While they kept arguing about it, I sneaked out of the room to get some fresh air. I knew Dad would eventually have it his way. Pigheadedness runs in the family.
Tired, I sagged on one of the padded chairs in the waiting area of the hospital lobby. It was almost midnight and I couldn’t afford to get sleepy. Three other people were either dozing off or watching the late night news on the flat screen LCD propped on the wall.
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