Page 111 of Rough

All I needed to do was kiss her again to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.

When I kissed her at her door, I knew.

I really did.

Now, I simply needed enough time to pass so I could tell her how I felt without her thinking I was some sentimental idiot.

I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of passing cars, and tried to fall asleep.

The sound of my ringing phone woke me up. Confused, groggy, and pissed off that someone was calling me in the middle of the night, I reached for my phone and stared at the screen.

Mom and Dad

I looked at the time in the corner of the screen.

3:52 a.m.

My heart sank.

I swiped my thumb across the screen.

“Hello?”

After a few seconds of silence, my mother’s voice came over the phone.

“Bradley?”

She never called me Bradley, unless I was in trouble. I swallowed hard, afraid I really didn’t want to hear what she had to say. Visions of my father standing up, attempting to go to the bathroom, and breaking another ankle ran though my head.

“Yeah?”

“I need you to come home.”

“Is everything alright?”

“I need you to come home, Bradley. He’s gone.”

I sat up in bed. “Who’s gone? What’s going on?”

“Your father, Bradley. He’s left us.” She began to whimper, and after a moment, regained her composure.

It took a moment for everything to register. I think my brain simply refused to process it. At the same time I realized what she had told me, she continued.

“I need help getting him back into his chair. I don’t want to the funeral home to see him like this.”

She began to cry.

My heart shot to my throat.

I couldn’t breathe.

I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t.

I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t form the words.

I couldn’t anything.

After an immeasurable period of silence, I swallowed hard. Somehow, I was able to mutter, “I’ll be there in a minute.”