Running down the hall and through the ER double doors, I stop dead in my tracks when I see him standing just inside the entrance.
“Where is he?” he slurs, swaying back and forth so much that he stumbles left and right. “Where is that useless fucking boy? I know he’s here. I want—” He stops, his inability to stand still causing him to lose his train of thought. “I want—where is he? Never makes time for me. Never did. I’m like this ’cause of him!” he yells at no one and everyone all at once.
I barely recognize him. His beard is more gray than black. It’s long and unkept. His clothes are tattered, worn, and dirty. Even his eyes are hollow. He’s too thin.
I haven’t seen my father in a few years. He swings in and out of my life whenever he needs something or just wants to try to make me feel bad about my existence. When I turned eighteen, he gave me all the money he had, which was substantial since he manages hedge funds, and ended up setting me up for life. It was millions of dollars that paid my way through med school. I was able to live a comfortable life during my residency, which is unheard of for residents, given their salary. But ever since he walked out of my life, his hate for me has grown with every year that has gone by.
When Mom died when I was a teen, he changed. Nothing mattered to him anymore. She was the reason I wanted to be a neurosurgeon. I always wonder if it would have been me who operated on her, maybe she would have had a chance of survival, but wishes and time don’t work that way. There’s no such thing as going back. The past can’t be changed.
All I can do is move forward, something my father has never been able to accomplish.
“Elias!” he shouts, twirling so he can see in every direction. “Where are you? You’re worthless. It’s your fault! It’s always your fault.” He hiccups.
“Sorry, everyone. I’ll take care of this.” I pat Nurse Jackie on the shoulder, slipping beside her to step forward so Dad can see me.
It breaks my heart to see him like this, but he won’t take my help. He’s homeless, the last time I checked. “Dad. I’m right here,” I say with a gentle ease to my voice. “Let me take care of you. Myshift is almost over, and I can take you home, get you cleaned up. Okay?”
His head bobbles, his drunken eyes finally landing on me. There’s so much pain behind them, and all he wants to do is wallow in it. He charges at me, gripping me by my white coat. Security runs down the hall, and I lift my hand to tell them to stop. They listen, but they stand close.
“You,” he sneers, whiskey soaking his tongue.
I have to turn my head to breathe in some fresh air.
“You’re the reason she’s dead. She died because of you! If you hadn’t stayed out. If you had listened. She wouldn’t have been up all night worried about you!” he shouts, shoving me in the chest.
I close my eyes as his words send more pain through my heart than I expected.
“Hey—”
“It’s fine, Winston.” I stop Dr. Warrick from getting involved. This is no one else’s problem but mine.
“Always having—” Dad hiccups “Someone save you.” He shoves me again, gaining not only the attention of patients, but my coworkers.
Great. Just what I fucking needed. I’m the new guy here and now everyone will only think of me as the doctor with a drunk abusive father.
“Dad, the aneurysm was there already. There’s nothing anyone could have done.” There are times I still don’t believe that, but I know it’s my sorrow talking. The doctor that I am knows the truth.
“Bullshit!” he yells. “It wouldn’t have ruptured if it weren’t for you stressing her out!” He steps closer, muscles ticking in his jaw, his eyes wild and glassy. “It should have been you.”
It isn’t the first time he’s said that. And it won’t be the last.
“So you’ve said,” I grit out through tight teeth. “Dad, let’s get out of here. Come on.”
The punch comes out of nowhere, hitting me right on the cheek, which has all of my coworkers coming to my aid.
Winston wraps his arm around my father’s neck, stabbing him in the neck with a needle. “Okay, that’s enough, asshole,” he sneers, pumping my dad full of a sedative.
I’m there when Dad falls weightless, helping Winston carry him to a nearby bed.
Nurse Jackie is frantic. “Oh my gosh, Dr. Carrington, do you need anything? I’ll go get some ice for your cheek.”
The security guard is apologetic. “We would have intervened, but we got the impression you didn’t want us to.”
Back-to-back, my coworkers fire statements at me. I’m not sure who they’re coming from. My cheek is on fire, and it will bruise, but other than that, I’m fine. There’s a part of my soul that aches, of course. The part that’s still a child wanting their father’s love.
“You okay, Elias?” Dr. Warrick grips my shoulder with his hand.
“I’m fine. It’s surprising. I am so sorry about this. I wasn’t expecting him. I haven’t seen him in years, Winston. I thought I would never see him again. I didn’t mean for a scene to unfold.” I scrub my hand down my face.
