Chapter 5 - My father
Robert Collins entered the pediatric floor carrying no weapon, no lawyer, no fantasy plan.
Just himself.
Blue work jacket.
Gray hair.
Work boots he had worn for forty years whether retired or not.
He hugged me.
Then stopped.
“Where is she?”
I pointed.
He washed his hands.
Went in.
Ellie opened her eyes.
“Papa.”
My father’s face broke.
He sat beside her.
Did not touch the dressings.
Just held her little hand.
After five minutes, he came into the hallway.
“Where’s Ben?”
“At the end.”
Robert looked.
Ben stood near the windows.
My father started walking.
I caught his sleeve.
“No.”
“Megan.”
“No.”
“He stood there?”
“Yes.”
“He knew?”
“More than he told me.”
My father’s jaw tightened.
“You said tomorrow we’re ending this.”
“Yes.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Then don’t decide tonight.”
That surprised me.
He was furious.
I could see it.
But he said:
“Tonight is Ellie.”
I nodded.
Good.
He continued:
“Tomorrow is locks, childcare, lawyers if needed, and whatever police tell you. Not revenge.”
I almost smiled.
“You sound like Mom.”
My mother had died when I was twenty-four.
Robert looked away for a second.
“She was usually smarter.”
Then:
“Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“Of course not.”
He bought me a terrible turkey sandwich.
I ate half.
That was love.
May you like
Not speeches.
Food you don’t want because somebody knows your body still exists while your mind is on fire.
