Page 79 of Must Love Flowers
“She’s right,” Al said with a hard nod. “Listen to your daughter.”
Maggie had one more request of her father’s only friend. “And while I’m gone, make sure he doesn’t have any beer.”
Her father huffed like there was no way Al would be able to stop him.
“Dad, I’m warning you…”
“Or you’ll what?” he flared. “Move out and leave me to my own devices? You already have, and good riddance.”
“He don’t mean that,” Al said under his breath. “He misses you something fierce. Tells me every day he’s sorry you’re gone.”
“Don’t tell me what I mean and don’t mean,” Roy snapped, glaring at Al.
Maggie left Al with her father while she collected her car. She brought it around to the area where she could pick him up. She climbed out and opened the passenger door while her father continued to grumble. Because he was light-headed, she wrapped her arm around his waist, supporting him as best she could. He didn’t protest, which told her he was worse off than she’d realized. This diagnosis was serious. Either her father changed his drinking habits or he would soon fall victim to his disease. If he continued on this path, he would be signing hisdeath warrant. It was true, Maggie and her father had their share of differences over the years, but he was her father, her only living relative.
“I’m not an invalid,” he complained, “no matter what that doctor said. I can manage to get inside a car without the two of you fussing over me. A man can’t breathe with the likes of you crowding around me.”
Maggie left him to close his own door. He nearly slid off the seat and onto the pavement with the effort. Al made himself comfortable in the backseat. The Seattle traffic didn’t make the commute any easier. Nearly thirty minutes later Maggie pulled up in front of the family home and breathed a relieved sigh. Her father complained the entire way, insisting she’d purposely taken the wrong route. Maggie didn’t argue but rolled her eyes, aware that if she had followed his advice, it would have taken a full hour before they’d arrived home.
Knowing better than to help him out of the car, Maggie waited until he was out before she wrapped her arm around his elbow and led her father into the house. When Roy sank into his recliner, he exhaled loudly, as if this was his rightful place and everyone could leave now. He apparently wanted them to think he’d be perfectly fine without either of them.
Al claimed a seat on the sofa.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she told her father’s friend.
“Where you going?” Roy demanded.
“To pick up your prescription. I won’t be long.”
“Don’t come back without a Whopper,” he shouted after her, as Maggie headed toward her car.
When she arrived at the pharmacy, she had to wait to give the prescription to the woman behind the counter.
“Can you tell me how much this will cost?” she asked, almost afraid to find out.
“I’ll need to ask the pharmacist.”
“That’s okay, I can wait.”
The woman left and returned a few moments later and mentioned an amount that caused Maggie to blanch.
“Is there a generic option for this drug?” The generic pill was bound to be cheaper.
“This is the generic price.”
“Oh,” she said, and swallowed tightly.
“Do you still want it filled?”
Given no other option, Maggie nodded. “Please.”
“It will take a few minutes. You’re welcome to sit in the waiting area to the right.”
With her heart heavy, Maggie slumped into a chair, closed her eyes, and prayed. As hard as it was to admit, her father needed her. He would never be able to give up drinking without her there to encourage him. As much as she hated the thought of moving back in with him, it seemed the only viable option. One thing her father needed to understand was that once he was fully sober, he had to stay away from alcohol. If he was determined to drink, there was nothing more she could do; she had no intention of sticking around and watching him die a slow, painful death because he was too stubborn to admit he had a problem.
With her mind set, she waited until her name was called. She paid for the prescription and headed home. As she parked in front of the house, she couldn’t remember any aspect of the drive, as she was distracted by the consequences of her father’s illness.
When she entered the house, the first thing she noticed was her father sitting in front of the television with a beer in his hand.
