B Negative by Vicki Grant

“You raised me. You did what was right. You were a good father to me.”
    He doesn’t say anything to that, but I think I got through to him. “I love you, Dad,” I say. “I’ll always love you. No matter what.”
    I reach out to put my hand on his shoulder and realize why he didn’t answer.
    He’s passed out cold.
    I go down below and get a blanket from his bunk. I put it over him and throw his cigarette in the water.
    I push the bottles out of the way and lie down on the deck at his feet. I want to make sure he’s all right.
    Hopefully we’ll both be feeling better tomorrow.

Chapter Twenty
    I don’t know where I am. I don’t know if I’m hot or cold. I don’t know what’s happening.
    Dad is holding my phone right in front of my face.
    â€œPaddy.” He’s not angry anymore. “How does this work?”
    I try to tell him but I can’t figure out how to get the words from my brain to my mouth. My jaw bounces up and down like an old man’s. Nothing comes out.
    Dad takes my hand and puts it on the phone. “Turn it on, son. C’mon. You can do it.”
    This should be easy—I know it should—but I’m like a drunk trying to walk a straight line. I have to concentrate really hard to keep the world still. I lick my lips. I focus on the phone until there’s only one of them. I see the button. I press it—but the screen stays dark.
    Dad grabs the phone from me. “This button? This one?” I nod or at least I think I do. He hits the button again and again. Nothing happens. His face is gray.
    I know what the problem is, although I don’t know how I do. Did I dream it? I shake my head.
    He says, “What? What’s the matter?”
    I’m afraid he’ll be mad. He always takes good care of his equipment. I want to explain that it was an accident, that I didn’t mean to break it, that I just slipped on some seaweed, but all I manage to say is, “Wet.”
    Dad swears.
    I see his feet walk back and forth on the deck beside me. I want to tell him I’m going to throw up but I don’t have time. My insides spill out of me.
    â€œThat’s okay,” he says and wipes my face with the blanket. His face is really close to mine. He stinks of beer. His eyes are bloodshot.
    â€œYou’re going to have to help me, son,” he says. “We need to get you to a hospital. Can you get up?”
    He pulls me to my feet. I see the veins in his neck bulge.
    After that, I’m not really sure what happens.

Chapter Twenty - One
    I sort of swim in and out of reality. It’s like I keep falling asleep in the middle of a movie or something. I just have little video clips of what’s going on, but they don’t fit together very well.
    The dinghy rocking. The sweat on Dad’s face. Some guy stopping on the road. People running. Bright lights.
    And then the tubes. I try to pull them out of my arm. The nurse puts her hand over mine and stops me.
    I don’t know if she tells me then or if it’s something I overheard but I know I have blood poisoning from “the wound.” That’s what she keeps calling it.
    Then sometime later—I don’t know how long—I open my eyes and I see Mom. Her face is all puffy and wet. I suddenly understand how sick I am—but it’s weird. I’m not scared. It’s just sort of a fact.
    I open my eyes another time and Dad’s there. He’s holding my hand and he doesn’t let go of it even when he knows I’m awake. That doesn’t seem strange either, although it clearly is.
    Tara comes too. I’ve been dreaming about her, and when I wake up there she is, asleep beside me in the chair.
    Maybe that’s what finally knocks me back to life. I wake up for real this time.
    I look around the room. It’s sort of dark. The sun hasn’t come up yet, or maybe it’s just gone down, I don’t know.