Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
When the cab pulled up outside the hospital, I took a deep breath and gazed up at the modern building. The outside was white and blue in color and a huge sign indicated it was ‘Boston General Hospital’. I checked my messages from my mother and confirmed it was the right address before I walked up to it. The building itself looked newly renovated and when I stepped inside, I was relieved to see modern and state of the art technology everywhere I went. It was squeaky clean like I’d come to expect from a hospital and it shone white in the flickering fluorescent lights.
I caught sight of a few patients in the lobby. There was an old woman in a wheelchair attached to an IV and a middle-aged man hobbling on a walking stick past the reception desk. I hated hospitals. They reminded me of just how frail life was and how quickly it could be extinguished. For a second, I considered turning around and going back. It finally caught up to me that I was going to see my father after all these years and I still wasn’t sure if I was ready, especially since it was in a place like this. For a long time, I just stood staring at the reception desk as I steeled myself for what came next. I told myself that this was my last chance to see him and whether it went terribly or not, I needed to see it through.
With a hardened heart, I stepped forward. “Excuse me, I’m looking for a Mr. Maxwell Strong,” I said to the receptionist behind the desk.
“One moment please, sir,” she replied with a polite smile before tapping away on her computer. “Ah, here we go. Can you tell me your relationship with the patient?”
My heart stopped. It was a pretty standard question given the circumstances, but it still instilled a grief in me that had been buried deep for many years now. I’d only spoken honestly about it with one person my whole life and that had only been a few days ago with Remy...
“Um, he’s my... my father,” I answered as confidently as I could.
“Okay, great,” the chipper receptionist replied as she typed something else. “He’s currently being kept in room 306. If you take the elevators to the left and ride to the third floor, it’ll be down the right corridor.”
“Thank you.” As soon as I had the information, I followed the instructions in a bit of a daze and found myself standing outside the metal door before I was even really ready.
“It’s now or never,” I whispered to myself. I took a deep breath, reached for the handle, and I finally turned it.
As I entered the room, I was shocked by the sheer amount of medical equipment surrounding the bed. I didn’t know what half of it did, but it was clear that my dad wasn’t in good shape at all. The machines were beeping and whooshing as they continued their work of keeping him alive for the time being and I felt overwhelmed by such a sight. However, it was nothing compared to how I felt when I looked down at the man occupying the room.
My father had once seemed like such a huge, threatening figure, but now, he looked frail as he lay against the bedsheets. His skin was pale and translucent like there was barely any life left in his body. He’d lost a considerable amount of weight and his once bulky muscles had withered away leaving only skin and bone behind. I couldn’t believe it and seeing him like that was almost enough to make me break down into tears—almost.
As the door swung closed behind me, it slammed and roused my father from his daydreaming. “Hm?” he moaned and turned to face me. “Griff? Is that really you?” His face broke out into a smile even behind the tubes sticking out of his nose.
“Hello, father,” I greeted as I took a few steps toward his bed. “Mom said you wanted to see me.” I stood there feeling stiff and awkward as I looked down upon the man who had caused me so much grief in my life. It was difficult to feel such a mixture of sorrow and anger at the same time and the two emotions were waging war inside me—I wasn’t sure which I wanted to win.
“I didn’t think you would,” my father admitted. “After everything I’ve put you and your mother through, I wouldn’t blame you, but I’m glad you did come, Griff.” He reached out to take my hand, but I refused. I wasn’t ready yet. I wasn’t sure I would ever be.
“Did you have something you wanted to talk about?” I asked rigidly, hoping to get the visit over as soon as possible.