Empire of Desire by Rina Kent

My nails clink together and I dig them into my skin. Pain means it’s not a dream and that the call Nate got was real.

That my father is back.

We don’t talk the whole way. I just listen to my NF and Twenty One Pilots playlist and count the minutes until we get to the hospital.

Anytime he opens his mouth, I raise the volume until he gets the memo and stops trying to speak. I don’t want to talk to him, I don’t want him to spout more words that will cut me open. Because you know what? Fuck him.

Fuck his coldness.

Fuck his assholish tendencies.

Fuck it all.

I know about his history and what turned him into a hard man, and I get that. I do. I was abandoned, too, so we’re similar in that way. We understand what it’s like to be left behind by the same people who should be there for us. We understand how those feelings shape who we are. I have an empty brain, a notebook, and use unhealthy obsessions to cope, but I don’t go around hurting others.

I don’t go around telling them that, no matter how much they try, I’ll feel nothing for them.

Being hurt doesn’t give him the right to hurt me.

Before, I bided my time and stupidly believed that he’d come around. That one day, he’d feel a sliver of what I feel for him, but I’ve only been chasing a void.

An impossibility.

So yeah, fuck him. Now that his name is officially on the list, I’m going to be desensitized to him.

Or that’s what I tell myself.

Anyway, I just need to focus on Dad and the fact that he woke up.

When we reach the hospital, however, the doctor, an older man who has a clean-shaven face and a dimpled chin, tells us Dad is unconscious again.

My legs nearly give out, and I wipe my sweaty palms on my shorts. “But…but…the nurse said he woke up.”

“He did,” the doctor says. “He responded to my commands and stayed awake for twenty minutes and tried to talk. Recovering from a coma is gradual, which means that he will gain awareness over time.”

“Does that mean he’ll wake up again?”

“We believe so, yes. Mr. Shaw didn’t have a severe score on the Glasgow Coma Scale and we’re confident that he’ll make a full recovery. Your father is a very strong-willed man.”

“I know. He is.” Tears gather in my lids again and I wipe them away with the back of my hand. “Can I see him?”

“Of course.”

I storm to Dad’s room even though my limbs barely carry me. Nate doesn’t follow me and I think it’s because he wants to talk to the doctor.

There’s a nurse moving Dad’s arm so he doesn’t get bedsores. Ever since his bruises and broken bones healed, he just looks asleep.

When it got to be too much and I missed him so badly, I used to sit beside him and joke that he doesn’t fit the Sleeping Beauty role. It was either that or crying whenever I came here.

“I’ll do it,” I tell the nurse, and she lets me, even though she stays to watch. I learned how to move my father, to wash his hair without much water, to clean his body, and make him as comfortable as possible.

“Dad…it’s me, Gwen,” I announce my presence before I lift his arm and stretch it out. He lets out a sound, a grunt or a moan, I don’t know which.

I stare at the nurse, bug-eyed, and she nods. “It’s because you’re stretching his arm.”

“Am I hurting him?”

“No. I believe he’s probably reacting to your voice. Keep talking to him.”

My attention slides back to him. “Dad…I came as soon as I heard. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you opened your eyes. But I’m not leaving your side, okay? It’s us against the world, right? And I can’t go against the world if you’re not in it. Also, also…I’m working hard in my internship and I’m confident that I’ll kick ass in college this fall. And did I tell you that I have a new friend? Can you believe that? Me, making friends? Jane didn’t even know you were my dad in the beginning, and she might have thought you’re a bit egotistical, but I changed her mind and she’s totally a member of your fan club now. I want to introduce her to you since she joined the IT department after your accident. They called her Plain Jane there and I totally put them in their place. I had to use your name for it—sorry about that—but I promise it’s for a good cause.”

I stroke his hand in mine and sigh. “I also went ahead and broke my own heart, because I gave it to someone who doesn’t want it. I think I have vanilla dreams and I need to get rid of them, so, Daddy, please wake up and tell me how.”

He squeezes my fingers, and before I can freak out about it, his lashes flutter and his eyes slowly open.

I nearly have a heart attack, my fingers pausing on his arm as the blue-gray color of his irises shines under the lights. The color I haven’t seen in weeks. It’s muted now, exhausted, but it’s staring directly at me.

He blinks slowly, but his gaze remains on me.

“Oh my God, Dad…”

His fingers squeeze around mine and he mumbles something. At first, it’s incoherent, but then I get close and the word he croaks fills my lids with moisture. “…Angel…”

“Yeah, it’s me, Dad. I’m here.”

He blinks again, says something unintelligible and slowly closes his eyes.