“Then I’ll be there to help you through it.” He smiles. “Because I love you.”
I turn my head to look at him, at the man who’s been taking care of me without complaint, who drove me here even though he had practice this afternoon, who’s been patient with my night terrors and panic attacks.
“I love you, too. More than you’ll ever know.”
“I have an idea.” He opens his door. “Come on, let’s go see your dad.”
The lobby smells of the same disinfectant I remember. The receptionist smiles at me, and I recognize her from my last visit.
“Mr. Christensen! It’s good to see you again. How are you feeling?”
“Better, thanks.”
“That’s great to hear.” She flashes a bright smile, her green eyes twinkling. “Your father’s been asking about someone named Zane all morning. Keeps saying his son is coming to visit.”
My chest constricts. “He remembers me?”
“He remembers something. Come on, I’ll take you to his room.”
We follow her down the hallway, past closed doors and fluorescent overhead lights. Everything feels different now. Less like I’m drowning.
Maybe because Tate’s here.
The room is bright and airy, but my stomach drops when I see Dad. He looks smaller than last time. He’s staring at the television, but his eyes are vacant. Empty.
When we walk in, he turns toward us and immediately tenses, clutching the hem of his sweatshirt.
“Who are you? What do you want?” His voice rises in fear. “Nurse! Who are these strangers?”
“Dad, it’s okay?—”
“I don’t know you! Get away from me!” He grips the arms of his chair, trying to push himself back.
I look at Tate, who nods toward my phone in my pocket.
Right. The video.
I pull out my phone, open the video I recorded. My own voice fills the room.
“Hi, Dad. It’s me, Zane. I know sometimes you get confused about who I am, but I’m your son... ”
My father stops trying to get away, his attention captured by the familiar voice. His eyes move between the phone screen and my face, confusion replacing the fear.
“Zane?” His voice is uncertain, still wary.
“Yeah, Dad. It’s me.”
“You look different. Older.” His eyes search my face.
“I am older. It’s been a long time.”
“Has it? I... ” Confusion seeps into his expression. “I get mixed up.”
“That’s okay, Dad.”
His eyes well up. “I’m sorry I didn’t know you. You’re my boy, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I’m your boy.”
