Dear Bad Boy || Ransom Drysdale

Fran and I take turns caring for dad, the cancer has spread quickly throughout his entire body, he wasn't even given a fighting chance.  The diagnoses was fairly quick, I suppose it helps when you have really good insurance and you can afford the best doctors but unfortunately money and science can only carry you so far. That's the thing about cancer, it's classless. It doesn't discriminate. So now all we can do is make him comfortable. 
I stand leaning against the door frame of his bedroom watching as Fran snuggles in beside him most likely watching Great British Bake Off, they laugh together ignoring the beeping of the machine that keeps dad hydrated and the other one clicking as it administers his medication. I wish they had more time.

Harlan visits on a Wednesday and reads pages from the financial section in The Times, dad loves it.  I must admit I do too, once a week a snippet from the paper will be slid under my door with open auditions circled on it, but I promised myself I would use what little time we have left with dad to rebuild our relationship, if this has shown us anything it's that family is everything and he's all I have.

 

It's been 4 months since Harlan's birthday party, and it seems that for once Ransom done as he was told, he's forgotten me.  I just wish I could forget him, but instead I find myself listening intently to conversations between Harlan and Fran to see if there is any indication that they have wed, I search every news paper looking for wedding announcements but so far there has been nothing, there is no doubt in my mind that I will find out soon enough, the prestigious affair will be thrust under my nose.

"Good afternoon my sweet girl," Harlan leans down kissing me sweetly on the cheek a newspaper tucked under his arm just like any normal Wednesday, but something is different about him today as he shuffles into to the kitchen instead of heading straight upstairs.      
"Before I read to your father I thought we might talk. About Ransom..."
Oh shit.
I grip the marble countertop harshly, trying to steady myself.  I wasn't prepared for it... hearing his name.  It made my heart stop.
I sigh deeply, "mhmm."
"I know he hurt you, and while I don't condone what he has done to you he has himself, been suffering too.  Ransoms been a shell of the man we used to know.  He has thrown himself into work, he doesn't visit.  He...uh...he doesn't call me like he used to..." his once powerful voice cracks under the emotion stirring something inside of me.
"What do you expect me to do Harlan?"
He gets up from his chair wiping his lone tear away on a crisp white handkerchief, "I will never fully understand what happened between you but if you could find it in your heart to for-"
"No." I slam my fist down on the marble, "you don't get to ask me to do that Harlan, I love you but no.  He doesn't deserve my forgiveness, what he has done to me to Louisa, its inexcusable!" I throw my hands up in exasperation, he glances at the floor avoiding eye contact, "are they still together Harlan?" I try to stave the desperation in my voice.
He shuffles himself off the seat and heads towards the stairs, I guess that's my answer.
"He may not deserve forgiveness, but he needs it." He presses his lips into a sorrowful thin line, dipping his head he disappears to dad's room.
Fran appears from the living room having heard the entire conversation, she places her hand gently on my shoulder giving it a reassuring light squeeze before pulling me into an embrace, "what about what I needed?" I whimper into her body.
"I know," she shushes me swaying my defeated body, "I know."

***

 

"Eva," Dad's voice croaks startling me, I must have dosed off.  I slide off the windowsill panicked, rushing to his side, I start fussing with the machines making sure they are still doing their job. His hand reaches out grabbing my wrist, "stop...its okay.  I want to talk." He smiles gently sliding himself across the bed to make space for me to sit. 
My heart thuds deeply, what is happening?
"Do you need some water?" I pass him his cup my hand on his back supporting him as he leans forward to drink through the straw. I can feel every bump and curve in his spine as the cancer eats its way through his flesh and organs.
He points to the newspaper that rests next to the jug of water, "hand me that will you?"
He opens a page up in the back, "there's an audition in New York tomorrow, and I think it would be perfect for you." Red circles are spread across the page,he lifts his pen tapping one of them repeatedly. 
I had always assumed it was Harlan that had been posting snippets under mydoor, but it was dad and Fran all along.
"oh great, I'll think about it." Every part of me wants to, is desperate to but I can't leave him.
"Go...get the train tomorrow morning, you'll be home by evening...Fran will be here." I can hear the frustration in his voice, "I don't want you to give up on your dreams because of me Eva, I've already done so much to hurt you.  Don't do it for me though, do it for yourself."
This is way of apologising, of making amends. I have to grant him at least that, even though I forgave him a long time ago. 
"okay." I simper, swallowing the painful lump swelling in my throat.
He shoots forward in excitement, "really? You'll go!?" he laughs clapping his hands breathlessly.
"alright sick note, lie back." I push him back onto his pillows, a wash of colour hides behind the peakiness of his illness.
I'll go, and not just because it will make him happy but because it will make me happy too.  And after my conversation with Harlan this afternoon, I need to do something for me.
"Fran!!" he shouts from the bed banging his cup on the tray making as much racket as possible.
Fran comes bounding into the bedroom with the same panicked look on her face that I had, when her eyes fall on him sitting with a smile spread from ear to ear, she bends over doubled in two trying to catch her breath.  I know exactly how she is feeling but I can't help myself and join laughing with dad.  The laughter wasn't soft, it was hearty side-splitting hysterics, the kind thats aches your ribs.  The angrier Fran gets the harder we laugh, her nostrils flare as she starts fussing with the machines but hidden in her scorn is a smile, it doesn't take her long to join in.
"Eva is going to the audition..." dad nods happily, Fran spins throwing her arms around me.
"that's wonderful," she cups my face between her hands, "I'll drive you."
"No, you have to be here for dad.  I'll get the train."
We all bob our heads in agreement.