Flash

I have to talk to him because he's my father.
And because my mother can't do it for herself.
When I told her she cried and it was different from the other times.
It wasn't the choked sobs I heard through the thing walls of my room.
I don't think she likes crying anymore.
I think she doesn't know what else to do.
I think she's helpless and scared and alone.
She's sitting next to me in the hospital, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.
I start to stand up so I can ask one of the nurses for a tissue, maybe some aspirin for the headache she's going to have later on.
But my mom stops me.
Reaches out and grabs the back of my T-shirt.
"Wait, Andrea," she says.
I turn around and her eyes are puffy. I wonder if it's from the crying she is doing now, or the tears that were meant for a supposedly loving husband.
I assume that doesn't matter. Puffy eyes are puffy eyes.
"I was just going to--"
She stops me. "I'm fine, honey."
I want to believe her, so I do. Just this once.

She told me that she couldn't do it herself.
Tell him, that is.
Tell him that he's a terrible husband, and a dick of a father.
Tell him that she loved him and that should have been enough.
Tell him that lying is what got him here, lying in a hospital with broken bones and a dead girlfriend.
I want to feel bad for him, but it isn't as easy as believing my mother.
When he sees me he says "Hey Andrea, it's good to see you."
I stand there and look scared, maybe angry, maybe both.
"I saw that boy, dad."
My dad cocks his head to the side. "What are you talking about?"
"The boy. The one that was in the accident with you. His name was Nick. He was in Spanish with me... he's probably dead by now."
His face softens and I can tell he wants me to go over there and sit with him, perhaps even tell him everything I'm feeling.

But I don't.

"Mom wants a divorce," I finish. "I don't think she's coming back to see you until she gets a lawyer or something."
Dad furrows his brow and exhales loudly. I wonder if it hurts him to do that, but then I just don't care. If anything he deserves it.
This is what you get for ditching your wife on her birthday. For making your daughter believe you were taking her mother out to dinner. This is what you get for fucking your secretary.
"She's just mad right now, sweetie. We'll work things out. Don't worry."
I don't know what to say to him to make him see that things don't work out. Not everything works out.
Sometimes life sucks and you can't do anything about it.
"I don't think so, dad," I tell him.
And then I'm gone. I can hear him calling out for me to come back, but I don't listen.