'Cause the Hardest Part of This is Leaving You.

Sometimes on a Sunday Mom drives me and Mikey to visit Dad. We get the lift up to the seventh floor. Mom always loiters and talks with Dad before she goes inside. But today when he opens the door she's already moving back across the hallway towards the lift.

" Watch him, " she says, jabbing a finger in my direction. " He's not to be trusted. "

Dad laughs. " Why? What did he do? "

Mikey can hardly handle his excitement. " Mom told him not to go clubbing. "

" Ah, " Dad says. " That sounds like your mother."

" But he went anyway. He only just got home now. He was out all night. "

Dad smiles at me fondly. " Did you meet a boy? A girl? "

I almost believe he's genuine " No. "

" I bet you did. What's his name? "

" I didn't! "

Mom looks furious. " Typical, " she says " Bloody typical. I should've known I wouldn't get any support from you. "

" Oh hush woman, " Dad says. " It hasn't done him any harm, has it? "

" Look at him. He's completely exhausted. "
All three of them take a moment to look at me. I hate it. I feel cold and small and my stomach aches. It's been hurting since having sex with Ray. No one told me it would happen.

" I'll be back at four, " Mom says as she steps into the lift. " He's refused to have his blood count checked for nearly two weeks, so call me if anything changes. Can you manage that? "

" Yes, yes. don't worry. " He leans over and slaps my back. I try hard not to wince. " I'll look after him. "
Mikey and me sit at the kitchen table, and Dad puts the jug on, finds three cups in the sink and rinses them off. He reaches to a plate on the bench and puts it in the center of the table.
I was twelve when he left her. He sent post cards for a while from places I'd never heard of - Skegness, Grimsby, Hill. One of them had a picture on the front. This is where I work now, he wrote. I'm learning to be a bartender and I'm getting a very fat stomach!

" Good! " Mom said. " I hope he bloody burst! "

I used to put all his post cards on my wall - Carlisle, Melrose, Dornoch. We're living in a small hotel!
I didn't, and I don't know who he meant by 'we', but I liked the picture of how small the place was.
Then winter came and I got my first diagnosis. I'm not sure he believed it at first, because it took him a while to turn around and make his way back. I was thirteen when he finally knocked on our door.

" You look great! " he told me when I answered it. " Why does your mother always make everything sound so much worse that it is? "

" Are you coming back to live with us? " I asked

" Not quite. "

And that's when he moved into his flat.
It's always the same. Maybe it's lack of money or he doesn't want me to go over board, but we always end up playing board games. Today, Mikey chose Game of Life. It's stupid and I suck at it. I loose all my money, I hate it.
Mikey want's to show Dad his new Bass line next. He goes into Dad's room and grabs the acoustic guitar.

" I've got the hospital next week, " I tell him. " Will you come? "

" Isn't Mom going? "

" You both could come. "

He looks awkward for a moment. " What's it for? "

" I've been getting headaches again. They want to do a lumbar puncture. "

He leans over and kisses my head. " Don't worry. You'll be fine. I know you'll be fine. "

Mikey comes with the acoustic and says " Watch very carefully. Watch how fast my fingers fly. "
But I don't want to. I think he's talking about time and I don't want to watch how fast it fly's.

I walk over and sit on Dad's bed, count to fifty-six inside my head. Then I dial 911.

A woman says. " Emergency services. Which service do you require? "
I don't say anything.

The woman says " Is there an emergency? "

I say, " No. "

She says, " Can you confirm there's no emergency? Can you confirm your address? " I tell her where Dad lives. I confirm there's no emergency.
I wonder if Dad get's a bill? I hope so.
I dial directory services and get the number for children's helpline. I dial it very slowly.
A woman says ' Hello. ' she has a soft voice, maybe Irish. " Hello. " she says again.
Because i feel sorry for wasting her time, I say, " Everything's a pile of crap. "

And she makes a little 'Ugh-huh' sound at the back of her throat, which makes me think of Mom. She made that exact sound six weeks ago, when the consultant a the hospital asked of we understand the implications of what he was telling us. I remember thinking how Mom couldn't possibly have understood, because she was crying to much to listen.

" I'm still here. " the woman says.

I want to tell her. I press the receiver to my ear, because to talk about something as important as this you have to be hunched up close.
But I can't find words that are good enough.

" Are you still there. " she says

" No, " I say, and put the phone down.