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Warning: Unrepentant incest ahead. Turn back now if you're looking for lovers who feel bad about what they're doing.
PTSD Warning: If you've buried somebody close to you recently, this story might mess with you a little.
This is a multi-chapter story. It will be submitted en mass. Literotica generally releases one chapter per day. Wait until the end and binge them all or take a bite at a time.
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My phone buzzed (it was on vibrate because we're not supposed to have them out). Caller-ID showed that it was my mom. Despite the fact that we're not permitted to be on our phones unless we're on break, I decided that I'd better answer it.
"Hello?"
"We're at the hospital. Your father had a follow-up screening today. Henry, they've decided to admit him. The doctor told your father that - if he's lucky - he might have several weeks," mom said.
"Shit!" I gasped.
"His cancer has stopped responding to the treatments," she continued.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
I saw a couple heads pop up over the walls that separated my cubicle from all of the others in my work group and I lowered my voice.
"When you have a chance, he needs to talk to you. He's feeling well enough right now but ...," she warned.
"Yeah, okay. Shit! I'll drop by after work! I love you, mom."
"I love you, too, honey."
She closed the call.
Two of my coworkers crept over to check on me.
"Everything okay, Henry?" Norma asked.
"Dad had a chemo checkup at the hospital today," I told them. "They're keeping him there. Doctor says maybe weeks left."
"Shit!" Nancy gasped, her hands going to her mouth.
"Weren't your dad and mine classmates?" Norma asked. "Isn't he like 55?"
I nodded.
"My dad was just a couple years behind you guys'," Nancy stated.
"I told mom I'd run by after work," I said.
"Tell him we're praying for him," Nancy replied, patting my shoulder.
Norma nodded and said, "Yeah. He can beat this."
"I don't know," I said. "Mom said the cancer is not responding to the chemo."
Norma took my hand in hers and gave my fingers a squeeze.
"Thanks, you two," I said. "It means a lot."
They shuffled back to their cubes and I sat and stared at my monitor screen, dumbfounded.
At 22 years old, the last thing that I thought that I would be talking about was losing my dad. I was the happy accident of the household. My parents had thought that my sister (who was five years older than me) would be their only child. That was true until whatever birth-control method they were using failed.
The minutes crawled by. My lunch tasted like ashes. I ate it anyway. A few other coworkers stuck their heads in to offer their support. I wasn't mad at Norma and Nancy for sharing. We all kind of acted like family. If I'd wanted it to be a secret, I knew to keep it to myself. Nobody was mean about that kind of thing here - we just all pretty much knew everybody else's shit. Monday mornings around the coffee pot or the water cooler were spent catching everybody else up on what life was like outside of the office.
I could tell you whose kids were playing which sports, which of my fellow workers were dating, who they were seeing (and how serious it was), and who was probably headed for a divorce. The biggest gossip explosion we'd had in a while was when Janet quit suddenly and the word went around that Kyle had knocked her up. They'd dated a few times but I didn't think they were that serious. They probably weren't. I think they just got unlucky. Kyle had married her two weeks later in a civil ceremony. None of us felt slighted for not getting invited - but we didn't buy them anything either.
The afternoon finally ended, and I trudged off to the parking lot, drove to the hospital, parked in one of the visitor spaces, and headed for the main entrance. Inside, I walked straight towards the information desk.
Mom had given me the number for dad's room but I had visited this place along with my father several times when he was coming to see somebody from the church that was sick - and he'd taught me to always check with the desk.
Dad said that the hospital moved people around for lots of reasons but that you also needed to remember that most people who came in were also in "flux" (as he called it). He told me that you'd save yourself a long, pointless walk - if you just took five seconds to ask. Over the years, I had been amazed at the number of times that we'd turned around and gone home because somebody had been dismissed and nobody at the church had heard - or bothered to tell dad. The desk was the place to find that out as well.
The room number that the lady at the desk gave me was the same as what mom had told me - but I was still glad that I'd taken two seconds to check.
I tapped on the door and stepped into the room before waiting for a response.
Dad was looking a little grey. Shit! That's never good. My father was barely in his middle 50s. I wasn't ready for this yet.
Mom looked at dad and asked, "Do you want me to wait in the hall?"
"No, definitely not," he said, "but could you close the door?"
She nodded to him and stepped around the bed.
"Your sister will be driving up Friday night," mom told me, as she slipped past me to close the door, "probably staying through the weekend."
I nodded.
As mom moved through the room, dad talked.
