Nathan Marsh's State of Being

Chapter Nine

isolated

I never thought I would have been so relieved to get a call from my dad, but sitting alone in my dorm room, I was.

Over the years, I'd gotten so used to him being gone and my mother preoccupied, but even so I could admit that I missed my dad.

He wasn't always gone. I remembered hot summer days when I was really little when my dad would take me to the beach. We'd get ice cream and walk along the shore, me holding his hand and screaming every time the waves lapped at my bare feet.

He used to be there for me when I'd fall off my bike and skin my knee. He'd pour alcohol on it and I'd cry and cry until he put a bandaid on my wound and made me hot chocolate.

But when I was nearing the end of elementary school he got a new job. Vice President of something boring. He started to travel, and spent less and less time at home. I was pretty sure the last time we got ice cream I was twelve. He had pistachio and I had strawberry like always.

I still remembered him saying he missed me and our outings. That when he got back from London, we'd do it again. But he was in London for six months and when he got back, we never went.

Hesitantly, I picked up my phone. "Uh, hi dad."

"Hey kiddo."

The smile was on my face faster than I realized. "What's up?" I stood from my bed and began to walk around the room absentmindedly. It was a Saturday afternoon. "I didn't expect you to call."

My dad answered me with a question of his own. "How's school?"

"Good," I said. I tapped my fingers on the back of my chair as I walked by it. "Uhm, midterms are next week already. Times kind of flying."

"Yeah, that pesky time. You used to the rain yet?"

I smiled. For once, it wasn't raining on the other side of my window, instead it was sunnier than I'd seen it in days. I looked at Noel's messy sheets and ruffled my hair with my free hand. "Not at all. But it's nice today. How's Berlin?"

My dad chuckled and I turned on my heel, slowly walking back towards my desk. "Exceptionally German."

I grinned. That was usually the first thing my dad told me about wherever he was when I asked about it.

How's Dublin? Very Irish.

How's Rio? Muito Brazilian.

How's Osaka? More Japanese than Hong Kong was. Of course it is, dad!

My dad's next words broke into my thoughts like they were a sledgehammer. "So listen, kiddo. I don't really have good news to tell you."

My face fell. "What do you mean?"

He tried to speak lightly, something delicate laced with hope in his tone. It didn't stop his words from knocking the air out of my chest, though.

"Your mom's sick. She has cancer."

I felt like I couldn't breathe. My relationship with my mom had never been easy, for so many reasons, but I loved her so much. She couldn't be sick.

"Dad? I--what?"

"I'm sorry, buddy. I shouldn't have done this over the phone." I could hear how apologetic he was in his voice. I figured it was well after sunset in Berlin and I knew he was tired. "But I couldn't make it out there to visit and your mom...well you know how she is."