So I ring our daughter, wanting to hear her voice and check she is okay. “Hi love, just wanted to have a chat. Everything ok? How’s your new job?”
There is a silence, a cough, then a forced cheery tone I haven’t heard before, “Oh, didn’t I tell you, I’m in rehab again, have been for a few weeks. Sorry, didn’t want to upset you so soon after Dad’s death.”
It was not what I had expected but I managed to hide my alarm, “No, you didn’t, sweetheart. Where are you? I’ll come and visit.”
I could hear her relief, “Oh, that would be nice, I’m in the usual ward, come by this week, during visiting hours.”
“Do you need anything?"
“A pack of cigarettes,” she laughs, “Only kidding, I’m still trying to give them up. See you soon.”
The following day I drive to the hospital alone, he usually did the driving, and I feel the pain of his absence. I park where we used to, make my way to the ward and become aware of the gentle breeze, at times warm, at times cool, that sweeps through the trees, shaking light and sound as it caresses the leaves. It feels familiar. I sign in and see her emerge from her room. She looks the same as before, still overweight, her hair tied up in a ponytail and a smile that says hello.
“Shall we go for coffee? I’m allowed out for a bit.”
“Sure.” I follow her through the clean, safe corridors.
“I think I’ll grab something to eat. Do you want anything?” I’m surprised at her demeanour, just so calm and measured.
“No thanks, just a coffee for me.”
We sit at a table near the counter, and I look at her face, skin stretched taut, no make-up this time, her dark eyes now dulled by her many years of personal struggle. Drugs of all kinds have controlled her.
“I’m so glad you came. I knew I had gone too far again; my liver can’t cope anymore, and the pain just got too much.”
I reach out to hold her hand, it is warm and sweaty as if her body was working overtime to keep her cool and level-headed.
“It will be alright, this is going to be my last time, I promise,” and as she said that, I saw a tear roll slowly down her left cheek. She noticed my look and started to laugh and withdrew her hands.
“It’s alright, really,” she repeated.
