Page 22 of Until Forever
Something told me not to kiss her, but I couldn’t help myself. And maybe it was cruel of me to jump her like that when she was clearly having a hard time accepting I was even back in town.
But what’s a man to do?
We can’t turn off the way we feel, and while I’ve worked hard over the years to be better at my impulsive ways, it all went out the window when I saw her. She said she was over me, but we both knew that was a lie.
She kissed me back.
If she were truly done with me, it would have never happened. But it did, and now all I can think about is her. The way she smelled, the feel of her in my arms, and her taste. It was like I remembered it but better.
Is that even possible?
And then she bolted like her ass was on fire, leaving me with a hard-on and a desperation to have her. What the fuck am I supposed to do except to prove to her that I’m serious? Yeah, I fucked up once, but I genuinely did so with the best intentions. I hate myself for the way I went about it, but that’s in the past, and I can only promise her the future. Now I need to convince her.
Sitting in the chair in the far corner of my father’s room, I listen as the doctor explains his condition. I tuned them out with thoughts of Latoya, but it’s the sound of my father cursing that brings me back to reality.
“This is bullshit,” he argues.
The doctor remains calm, calmer than I ever could be. I know my dad. He makes you angry and pushes you to the edge of being disrespectful. Hats off to the staff in this place because I could never be as polite as they are. He’d be on the floor fending for himself if it were me.
“I’m sorry, would you say that again?” I stand, putting the book in my hand down on the seat.
“I heard what the hell he said. You shouldn’t even be here,” Dad screams while fighting with his covers.
Dr. Brandshaw sucks in a breath and turns to me.He’s good,I think to myself when the doctor doesn’t react to my father’s outburst.
“And you’re…? “ Dr. Brandshaw drags out his question.
“Sorry. Jasper Vanek, I’m his son.” I hold out a hand, and he accepts it.
“Dr. Brandshaw, hepatologist. I’ve been treating your father’s condition.”
“What’s wrong with him?” I ask and fold my arms over my chest, my brows pinched tight.
“He came into the ER about six months ago, he was unconscious, and the ER doctor on staff, Dr. Ross, diagnosed him with cirrhosis of the liver.”
My dad grunts, still fighting with his bedding. “Shut up. I ain’t give you permission to talk to him.”
I shake my head and exhale through my nose. “Excuse him. You were saying?” I nod for him to continue.
Dr. Brandshaw glances at my father, waiting for any further disapproval before he begins again. “We put him on a strict plan with orders to quit alcohol consumption, along with other measures. But he was admitted last week because his condition worsened. Unfortunately, your father is now in end-stage liver failure. As a result, he’s in and out of consciousness, jaundiced, and severely fatigued. Nurses have reported periods of confusion and slurred speech. Before coming into the ER, he suffered some bruising that is consistent with a fall. He also has an infection that we’re monitoring closely.”
“So what’s next? Are you able to treat him?” I drop one hand to my side and rest the other on the bed rail.
“Unfortunately, his condition has gotten worse. Right now, your dad’s best hope is a liver transplant.”
I nod, and he continues.
“The next step would be a liver transplant, but because of the six-month sobriety requirements, we’re unable to register him with The United Network of Organ Sharing. But it’s a good thing you’re here because it’s within hospital policy to approve a living donation from a blood relative.”
“Wait. Wait.” I frown and hold a hand out to stop him. “Are you asking me to donate my liver?”
“There’s criterion you’ll need to meet first, but a living donation is the quickest way to get him the liver he needs. Because your father was literally drunk when he was admitted, he doesn’t meet the requirements set by UNOS.”
“So we wait?”
“Yes. Or”—he drags out the word—“we can do a direct living donation. You’re his son, so you can directly give him a part of your liver. Again, you’ll need to be tested as a match, and then meet other hospital regulations.”
I stare at my dad, who’s got his eyes closed, his chest heaving in sharp bursts. He’s been the epitome of a deadbeat father, showing me early on that I meant nothing to him. For years he verbally, mentally, and until I was old enough to fight back, physically abused me. Karma’s a bitch, and it’s finally catching up to him.
