He thrashes and pushes away, punching aimlessly.
What the heck is happening?
I bite back tears and back away.
How has it gotten this bad? When Mom was alive, he wasn’t like this. He was kind and loving. We’d spend nights putting together Legos, playing video games, or going for ice cream. I never dreamed he could ever be this guy.
I need to do something.
“Dad,” I say, wiping away the tears and blood that have mixed, “come on. Stop. We’re trying to help you.”
Professor Wilder stands taller, his gaze on mine. “Go get your things. You’re coming with me.”
“I can’t leave him like this,” I say sobbing, my vision blurry with tears.
“Then we’ll call someone to help, but you’re not staying.” His tone is firm and direct, letting me know there’s no other option. “I mean it. I’ll carry you out of here if I have to. So, call whoever you need to call, but you’re not staying here.”
I swallow hard and think over my options. I’m not used to letting someone else have control over what I do, especially when it comes to my father, but I’ve never seen him act like this. It’s obvious I’m in over my head.
I nod toward my professor and shrug, my heart somewhere in my stomach. “I don’t actually have anyone to call.”
My father slumps over in the recliner like whatever energy he had is gone now. His chin sinks toward his chest, and his fingers dangle over the armrest, twitching ever so slightly as though he’s dreaming with his eyes half open.
When did it get this bad?
Professor Wilder turns, his size dwarfing me. “If there’s no one to call, then you have to let him work it out on his own. He’s a grown man, baby. He’s going to have to fall so he can pick himself back up again.”
“And what if he doesn’t?”
He wipes a tear away from my face. “Then that’s a choice he’s allowed to make. You can’t carry him forever. He has to be willing to help himself.”
My heart squeezes for a million reasons all at once. Partly because I know Professor Wilder is right, and partly because it hurts that I could lose my dad to this. And then what?My entire family will be gone.
Tears fall quickly as he pulls me against his chest and holds me close.
“Give him the night. He’ll sober up a little, realize what he’s done, and maybe he’ll come to terms with the fact that he needs help.”
“Okay,” I say with a sniffle, allowing my professor to dot away the blood on my cheek. “I’ll go pack a bag.”
“Good girl.” He tugs me in by the waist and kisses the cut on my face. “I’ve got a first-aid kit in my truck. We’ll get you cleaned up out there, and we’ll go to my cabin in the mountains for the night. Does that work?”
I nod slowly, allowing myself a deep breath. A cabin in the mountains with a man who wants to care for me sounds almost unreal, foreign, pretend. Maybe this is all part of that big coma delusion I’ve been having since I drove over to his house the other night. A delusion makes way more sense than assuming any of this is real.
How could it be? He’s perfect.
Big, strong, tall, kind, smart, and now protective too?
It’s not real.
He can’t be real.
But God, I hope he is.
