The Truth About Hollywood

After I called 911, everything was a blur. The red and blue lights flashing as they pulled into our driveway. The paramedics finding that Dad had a heartbeat, but it was extremely faint. One of them asking me to get out of the way while the other assured me that they were going to do all they could to make sure Dad lived.

The ride to the hospital was hard, seeing Dad hooked up to an IV and looking extremely pale. I tried to keep my gaze away from him, focusing on anything else besides the elephant in the room.

Once at the hospital, I was forced to stay away while they stabilized my dad. The waiting room was filled with concerned-looking spouses and kids who tugged on their parents clothes, exclaiming things that sounded like nonsense to everyone except them.

My gaze was fixed on the opposite wall, not blinking. After a while, though I wasn't sure exactly how long, I finally came back to life. The people in the waiting room were different, but the expressions were the same.

"Danny," I whispered to myself, getting up from my chair and grabbing my cell phone as I made my way outside. The only thought in my mind was that he might be able to help my mental state.

"Hello?" he answered, sounding like he had just woken up.

"Sorry for waking you, but...I came home and...Dad..." I burst into tears, not able to say what had happened. It was too difficult. Why would he do that right after Mom died? My brain was going to go crazy.

"Your dad did what?" he asked sharply. When I didn't answer, not able to through my sobs, he asked again with an even more serious tone.

"I came home and he was passed out... He tried to kill himself." My voice was nothing but a series of chokes, but he seemed to understand.

"I'll be at the hospital in five minutes," he assured me before the line went dead.

I waited outside, sitting right where I had when I'd learned just how bad Mom's situation was. Danny found me easily, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet before leading me back into the dreaded place. The place where I'd spent entirely too much time that never seemed to end.

Leaning against his shoulder, I continued to have a tingly feeling behind my eyes, signaling that I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I was out of tears.

He was stroking my hair softly, not saying anything. He understood that I didn't want to talk, so he didn't push for any conversation.

Before long, a doctor came out, calling my last name. "I'm here," I whispered, standing up. "How's my dad?"

"I'm going to want to talk to you in private," he started. I grabbed Danny's hand and dragged him along with us.

"Alright," the doctor started when we were standing in a hallway, as opposed to the sort of crowded waiting room, "here's the thing. Your dad took a whole lot of painkillers. You're lucky you found him. If he had gotten here any later than he did, he would have died. Thankfully, we've been able to stabilize him, but it will be a while before he wakes up. You're allowed to go sit in there if you want. When he wakes up, we'll talk about post-hospital treatment."

I nodded, knowing that he meant therapy and that kind of stuff. People who attempt suicide don't really get out with a slap on the wrist.

The doctor turned around and directed us to Dad's room, gesturing as he spoke. Danny and I walked along, taking a right turn around a corner and stepping into the third room on the left.

Dad was hooked up to different machines, each of them beeping regularly, and an IV that was rhythmically dripping fluids and medicine into his blood.

Biting my lip, I thought about how hard it was, but it was an improvement over how Mom had looked. As I focused on that, I pulled a chair next to his bed and watched Danny do the same.

"God, you must hate me," I said to him, trying to make a joke out of it, but failing. Just when I thought that the drama in my life had ended...Dad had to ruin it.

"Why would I hate you? Because you're going through tough times?"

"And I keep falling on you for everything. You know what? You can go home. I'm sorry. I'll call Gia. I haven't annoyed her as much. Ugh, I feel like such an idiot."

I hadn't even realized that I was pacing until Danny stepped in front of me and put his hands on my shoulders, stopping me in my tracks. "Stop. I'm not going anywhere."

"I just feel badly because you shouldn't have to go through this. These are my problems, and yet I keep dragging you-"

He leaned down quickly and kissed me, cutting off my sentence. I wrapped my arms around his neck, forgetting completely the chaos that was going on inside of my brain and in my life.

"I told you," he whispered, his forehead still leaning against mine, "I want to be here for you."

My eyes watered a little, not enough to make tears that fell down my face, as I mumbled, "Thank you."

We sat back down in the chairs, hands entwined, as we waited for Dad to regain consciousness.

It took a few hours, but around ten, he did wake up. As his eyes fixed on me, his face fell. He probably just realized that he didn't succeed.

For some reason, that made my temper flare. "How could you do that?!" I snapped at him a little too loudly. "What's wrong with you? I can't live without both parents. Did you ever think of me, what would happen with me?"

Dad swallowed and turned away from me without an answer.

"I know that you're hurting, Dad." My voice started to waver as I began to cry, but I ignored it as best I could. "We all are. But we're trying to get over it, and you're being selfish and trying to find the easy way out. I never realized what a weak person you were."

"Claire," Danny whispered in my ear, "don't say something you'll regret."

He was right. In my state, I could easily say something wrong, but it was the truth. Why did he think it would be a good idea to do that?

"You're so selfish," I repeated before wiping my eyes and storming out of the room.