Page 152 of Pull Me Under

Brynn goes very still beside me.

‘Twenty years he’s been like this,’ I say. ‘He’s the stalwart of the village. Reuben Harding is always right, always strong … always… When Jess, Kit’s wife, died, he took care of everything, kept Kit going, helped take care of Maisie. But beneath it all, beneath the strength’—I grip her fingers and give a squeeze—‘there’s an anger I just don’t understand.’

She doesn’t say anything. Just sits there, her coffee untouched, her face turned slightly away.

I’m going to ask her what’s wrong, does being here like this, in a grim hospital with its antiseptic smell and yellow walls, remind her of her own father, but the doctor’s coming through the doors, and everything else falls away.

‘Mr Harding? I’m Dr Menon. I’ve been looking after your father.’

‘Is he⁠—’

‘He’s stable.’ She gestures toward a pair of chairs against the wall. ‘Can we sit for a moment?’

I don’t want to sit. Sitting means bad news. But Brynn’s hand presses gently against my back, and I lower myself into the plastic seat.

Dr Menon sits across from me, iPad balanced on her knee. ‘Your father’s had a heart attack. We’ve managed to stabilise him, but it was significant. He’s going to need monitoring, medication, likely some lifestyle changes going forward.’

A heart attack. I let the words settle.

‘Can I see him?’

‘In a moment.’ She pauses, glances at her notes. ‘Mr Harding, I need to ask – has your father been experiencing any confusion lately? Memory issues, disorientation, anything like that?’

My stomach drops.

‘Why?’

‘He’s been quite muddled since he came in. Some of that’s to be expected after a cardiac event – reduced blood flow to the brain can cause temporary confusion. But some of his responses suggest this might not be entirely new.’

I look at my hands. The coffee cup, gone cold now.

‘I’ve noticed things,’ I say quietly. ‘The last few months. He’s been … forgetting words. Getting confused about what day it is. Calling me by my brother’s name.’ I swallow. ‘I kept telling myself it was just stress. Or tiredness. I didn’t want to⁠—’

‘It’s very common for families to explain these things away,’ Dr Menon says. ‘Especially when the person is resistant to seeking help.’

‘He’d never have gone to a doctor. Not voluntarily.’

She nods like she’s heard this a hundred times. ‘The heart attack may have exacerbated whatever underlying cognitive changes were already happening. We’ll want to run some tests once he’s stronger, get a clearer picture. But for now, the priority is his heart.’

‘So he’ll be confused? When I see him?’

‘Possibly. He’s been drifting in and out. When he’s awake, he’s not always … present. He may not recognise you, or he may think you’re someone else. Try not to correct him too forcefully if that happens – it can cause distress. Sometimes it’s easier to meet patients where they are.’

‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Can I see him now?’

‘Of course. Room 4, just down the corridor. One visitor at a time for now – we don’t want to overwhelm him.’

I stand. My legs feel strange, disconnected from the rest of me.

Brynn’s beside me, her hand finding my arm. ‘Do you want me to come?’

I shake my head.

This part I need to do myself.

The room is small and dim, filled with the soft beep of monitors. Dad looks shrunken against the white sheets – smaller than I’ve ever seen him. His weathered face is slack in a way that changes him from being my father into just another old man in a hospital bed.

I sink into the chair beside his bed.