The Bullet - Part Two

            Timmy woke up to the sound of chirping, but it wasn’t that annoying killdeer.  His sense of smell returned with a sharp odor, but it wasn’t expended nitrocellulose; it was rubbing alcohol.  He turned toward the direction of the chirping and was captivated by the green illuminated line that peaked in sync with the chirping.  He felt a hand, but it wasn’t Mom’s - Dad!  He retracted as he turned to face him, but Dad gripped tighter and pulled Timmy closer.  Dad’s eyes were red and puffy. 

      Dad turned away and quietly spoke, “He’s waking up, go get the nurse, Sandy.”    When Timmy realized Dad was talking to Mom, he turned his gaze toward her.  She indulged for a moment, smiling through her tears at Timmy before she floated out of the room.

      “Mom is pretty, even when she is crying,” Timmy thought. 

      Breaking the silence, Dad spoke through sobs, “We… thought you weren’t… gonna make it.” 

      “I’m sorry I’ve been so harsh at times… I figured it was for your own good,” he continued. 

      Dad’s eyes locked with Timmy’s, “I love you, son.”  He gripped Timmy’s hand a little tighter, “forgive me?”

      Timmy nodded and felt tears welling in his own eyes and briskly blotted them with his bandaged arm.  It was like somebody else speaking as Timmy blurted, “I’m sorry I got into your drawer!”

      Dad’s face went pale.  Timmy felt Dad’s hand get clammy and he loosened his grip.  The wicker chair crackled and creaked under Dad’s full weight as he fell back into it and stared blankly at the medical instruments, wiping sweat from his mouth.  He realized Timmy had discovered his secrets. 

      Timmy fidgeted, hoping that Mom or a doctor or the nurse would step into the room to break the sickening tension that filled the air.  As Dad’s nostrils flared, Timmy had a sinking feeling, as though Dad were about to reach for his pocket knife… yet deep inside Timmy felt another emotion stirring - giddiness.

      Dad avoided eye contact, which made Timmy wonder what other secrets he was hiding.  As he contemplated treasures he had yet to discover, Timmy trembled like a dry alcoholic walking past the open door of a tavern; being blasted by an unanticipated waft of spirits.