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He didn’t move.
“No.”
The word came out so quietly I barely heard it. Then my body moved before my mind caught up.
“Dad!”
I rushed into the room, calling for him again as if saying his name louder would make him answer me.
“Dad? Dad, wake up. Come on. Please.”
I reached for his arm, and the second my fingers touched him, something inside me recoiled. His skin was cold enough that I pulled my hand back instinctively, staring at him as my brain fought against what that meant. I touched him again anyway because I had to be wrong. He couldn’t have been here while I went about my week angry with him. He couldn’t have been here yesterday when I called and decided not to try again after he didn’t answer.
“No, no, you’re just... Dad, please. Please wake up. I’m here now. I’m not mad anymore, okay? I’m not... I’m sorry. Just wake up.”
He didn’t move.
Panic tore through me. I stumbled out of the study and nearly slipped as I rushed down the hallway toward the nearest phone. My hands were shaking so badly that I knocked the receiver from its cradle when I grabbed for it. I snatched it from the floor and punched in 911, missing one of the buttons the first time and having to start over.
“Come on. Come on.”
I pressed the receiver against my ear and looked back toward the study, terrified to be even this far away from him. By the time someone answered, I was crying so hard I could barely breathe.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“My dad. It’s my dad. I need... Can you send somebody? Please, just send somebody.”
“Ma’am, what’s happening?”
“He’s... I don’t know. I don’t know what happened. I just got here and he’s... he’s hanging. He’s not answering me.”
“Okay. I need you to stay on the phone with me. What’s the address?”
I opened my mouth and nothing came out.
The address.
I knew the address. Why couldn’t I remember?
“Ma’am?”
“I know it. I know it, I just... fuck. Hold on. Please don’t hang up.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Take your time.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force my brain to work, and finally managed to give her the address.
“3228 Broadmoore Lane.”
“Thank you. Help is on the way. Is your father responsive?”
“No.”
“Have you tried speaking to him?”
“Yes. Yes, I keep... he won’t answer me. Dad?”
I looked back at him.
