The Beauty and the Inked

Eleven: The Visit

Bella was gushing, "So much had happen! Oh my god, Pasco," I can imagine her grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah, so much. I almost thought a week had passed," I was still on my bed. I had already taken a nap, and I feel rested.

I have told Bella almost all the happening since I got here in Philippines: having the same flight with Zack, the ignominious encounter with him at the airport, me running away from my mum, drinking and meeting Andrei, staying at a hotel room with Zack’s help, meeting Henry and Nick, and the not-so-good come back here in my parents' house. I guess that sums it all up.

"I can't believe you have spent time with Zack!" I heard Lexi, "I'm expecting something. Don't just friend-zone him, please. Enough for I'm-not-into-relationships attitude," she said.

"What?!" I shrieked, "Aren't you listening? Mind you, we did not spend time together. Are you out of your mind? He is mercurial and freaking rotter!" Even though he helped me, I can’t forget how he lashes out sometimes.

Both of them laughed at my words, they don't understand. Well, Zack is so damn despicable. If only they knew.

"Are you blind? He is hot, handsome—"

"A bonny!" Lexi cut Bella. Ugh. They were pretty unnerving. Their laughter filled the other end of the line.

"Hey, before I forgot," Bella was a bit serious now, "About your car, its' already sold, and some of your stuffs as well. Actually, your Aunt was against it."

"It's not like someone will use it while I'm away," I murmured. I suddenly feel bad. I curl into a ball on top of my bed, maybe I need to sleep the distress away, but I just woke up.

"Hey, I can feel your sadness radiating. Lighten up, girl!" Bella never failed to cheer me up. I smiled, grateful to have these two. Distance is nothing when it comes to these girls.

. . . .

As I made my way to the private room, my heart pounds loud inside my chest. I'm afraid to see him; I don't have the courage to face him.

But I have to see my Dad.

This is the main reason why I came back. This is the main reason why I conquered my fear of the past. It's been eight years— eight long and agonizing years since the last time I saw my father. I wonder how he is doing...

I remember what Bella advised me last night, never bring up the past. Yeah, I should not dig my father's grave. I should set aside my irrational ego.

I draw air into my lungs, I have to do this. I stepped inside the room...

And there he was, deep in sleep— in coma. The lump in my throat started to block my breathing. His face had aged, dark circles under his closed eyes, grey stubble on his face, his used to be black hair is now completely grey. He is thinner now; I remember how muscular he was...

His chest was mechanically moving up and down with the help of a machine. It's too painful to witness...

"Daddy," I managed to say. Tears were already cascading on my cheeks, and I didn't even bother to wipe it. I stride on the side of the bed; I can hear the steady beeping of machines and my ragged breathing. Nothing more. My hands captured his, it felt warm against mine.

"I missed you so much, Daddy," I was crying uncontrollably, "I am sorry. I was away for a very long time, Daddy," the tranquil room was now filled with my cry; "I'm such a coward. I love you, Daddy. Wake up. Wake up, Daddy!"

I never knew that this would hurt so much, that the fear inside me can make me feel so weak. So weak that I almost want to ask God, of all people, why it has to be my Dad? To see him almost lifeless, lying on this hospital bed makes me want to cry for the rest of my life. In addition to my pain, I want to take back the years that had passed. The years I spent away from him, the years when all I thought about was me and only hatred towards my own family. If I wasn't so selfish... maybe I have been so happy with my Dad.

I shiver; digging my fingers on the mattress of the hospital bed, "Daddy..." crying wouldn't cure him. My tears won't be able to bring his consciousness. But my eyes won't stop, my lips won't stop trembling.

"I will stay, Daddy. I will. Wake up, please," I want to see his golden eyes. I want him to open his eyes, but there wasn't any reaction from him. Which only breaks me into million pieces, "I will never leave you again, and I won't. Daddy..."

Regret is all what I feel. Regret that won't change anything. No matter how much I feel rueful, no matter how much I weep... I can't, I can't change anything.

I don't know how long I was crying, how long I was holding my father's hand. My head was resting against my other hand. The steady beeping of the machines was loud enough to make my muffled sobs unnoticeable.

I was tired, and I only want this day to end. Hoping that tomorrow morning there will be a miracle. Hoping that tomorrow, my Dad will be awake.

God, I'm begging for my father's life. A few weeks, days, or even hours just let me ask for his forgiveness. I don't deserve my father's forgiveness, but I need it. I need it.

"You can take a rest. I can assure you, he's doing fine," my dad's private nurse said. He was injecting medicines to my dad's dextrose, "You need sleep," he half smiled. His eyes were on me.

I did not say anything; I'm too drained to talk. I hope he understands. The proof is clear: my tear-stained cheeks, eyes bloodshot and red nose. I just gave him a small smile.