HOSPICE

"She collapsed today... and Dr. Levine suggested we should move her to a hospice for her own safety." My voice wavered slightly. Maybe it sounded stupid, but when I mentioned she collapsed, I thought he’d react. Show some fear or concern. But he didn’t. He just stared into his coffee cup, as though it held all the answers.

"When do we take her?" he asked, finally turning to me.

"Tomorrow. We can’t manage her on oxygen without a medic at home," I said, tossing a jelly bean into my mouth. It was almost unsettling how calm we were, discussing something so deep as though it were an ordinary errand.

He nodded faintly. "Okay."

He stood up, opened the fridge, and pulled out a bottle of tequila. As he started to head upstairs, I stopped him. I didn’t want another outburst or argument. I just wanted to talk—just two men talking.

"Dad."

He paused at the kitchen counter and looked back at me.

"Dad… are you okay?"

He nodded mutely.