just-the-tip of the day’s news. “I can’t stand the way my dad watches television. He’ll put a show on, then switch the thing on and off three times an hour. I’ll say ‘What are you looking at?’ and he’ll say ‘Nothing.’ I’ll say, ‘You didn’t watch the last three commercials?’ and he’ll say, ‘They’re all the same’.” I took his advice, so when I finished my interview and stepped out of the studio, I felt energized and focused for the first time since the previous night. I had been told that my interview was about twenty minutes long. Twenty-five minutes later, when the producer returned and we ran the tape back, I could see exactly what he meant. I’d done exactly what he asked, answering each question directly, without hesitation. So was it the fact that my mom was gone that was affecting me so much? And would this program be my last time talking to the press? No. This was simply more about not wanting to be in this job. The show aired. It was terrible. I didn’t want to watch, and I didn’t watch the whole show. The last person to talk to me before the lights came on was the host, who had a lot of nasty comments to make about my mother. She was an alcoholic, he said, and this was her last gasp. He wanted to blame someone, but it was his fault. I just couldn’t deal with that right now. I was tired, I was hungry, and I was a bit disappointed. I headed home to the apartment my parents had provided me in the city. I ate dinner and went to bed. I was awakened at about one o’clock in the morning by an urgent knocking on the front door of the building. “Who is it?” I asked. “The police,” the voice said. “Open up!” I put on a robe, opened the door, and saw two cops. “Is my father here?” I asked, sleepily. They both nodded. “Which one is your father?” one of them asked. “The redhead,” I replied. “Get out of bed and follow us,” he said. “He’s in custody.” I was numb. A moment passed, and then I asked, “What’s happening?” I followed the two cops as they started to lead me to my father’s room. He’d been in a fight. “You don’t have to go in,” I said. “Just tell me what’s happened.” “He’s got a broken jaw, the jaw is broken, and he needs to see a doctor.” I called my mom, then my father’s cousin, then my father’s other cousin, and then another cousin. Finally I got through to my aunt Gwen. “I’m afraid something has happened,” I told her. “He went to the wrong doctor. He didn’t go to my doctor,” she told me. “He’s at North Shore Hospital. My doctor is going to be there in the morning, and you need to go there now. The police officer said he’s in police custody.” She gave me the name of the hospital and said, “Make sure you check yourself in at the police desk. Don’t let them know who you are.” I needed to call several of my friends to see if anyone was around that I could ask to take me to the hospital. “I don’t think I can do this right now,” I said to my aunt. “What do you mean you don’t think you can?!” she said, exasperated. “I don’t think I can handle seeing him like that.” “He is a grown man. The police are going to have him in custody. Do you know that? Are you prepared to handle seeing your father, naked and unconscious, after he’s been beaten up? Are you prepared to deal with his broken jaw? Are you prepared to see his face covered with bandages?” “I guess so,” I said. “I guess I’m just not prepared to see him like that, and I’m not going to go see him now.” “You are.” She turned her phone off, but left it lying on the table by the phone. “If you change your mind, just call,” she said, and she walked out. I sat alone in the middle of the night in my small second floor bedroom with my phone off, in the dark. It was dark and very quiet. I was afraid. “Can you just promise to me that when I call you, you’ll be there?” “I promise,” she said. “I’m on the other side of the country, but I promise I’ll be there.” I picked up my phone, turned it back on, dialed her number. I had no other choice. I had to find a way to do this. I had to see my father and see him right now. “The police just came, and I saw my dad on the floor. He was unconscious, and he’s got a broken jaw. The police officer says he needs to be in the hospital. I’ve got to be there right away. There’s nothing else for me to do. I’ve got to make sure he’s taken care of.” The nurse at the desk at North Shore Hospital was not very friendly, and the room they’d given my dad was too crowded. I went to another room, and my aunt Gwen walked in. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I hate that I can’t stay here. I’m just too upset, and I can’t deal with seeing him like that.” “You need to sit down,” she said. She walked into the room, and she started to cry. “He’s naked, he’s bandaged, his eye is swollen shut, and he’s sitting there,” she said. She started to cry harder. “What’s going on with you? Why are you in here?” I asked. “I can’t stand to see him like that, and I’m sorry I didn’t call you.” “Do you want to go home?” “I just don’t want you to be there. I can’t deal with seeing him like that. I’ll be fine in a moment, I’m sorry. I just can’t stay here. I’m so sorry.” “I need to go to the bathroom,” I said. “Can you go in here?” she asked. I went into the bathroom and sat down. I leaned my head into the sink, but I didn’t cry. I just cried for a minute and felt very emotional. “I’m so sorry. Can you stand here with me for a little while?” she asked. I got up and followed her as she walked to the next room. She put her hand on my back as she stopped at the door. She looked up at me. “I want you to take a couple of days and visit your father,” she said. “This can’t be good for you. I want you to get away from me, so I can take care of my own mess. This is really not a good thing for me to be doing. I know you’re a nurse, and you know what to do. You know more about your father’s face than I do, so you’ll be better able to look after it.” I was sobbing by this point. I wasn’t even sure if my father was conscious. “Let’s get through this and get to the end of it, okay?” “I don’t think I can do it,” I said. “You can,” she said. “Trust me, you can.” She went back to his room and stayed there until she knew that he was breathing on his own, which wasn’t for a few hours. When she returned, I asked her how long I had before I had to leave. “I think about seven hours,” she said. “Call me in a little while. I need to stay here and see him. I don’t have time to get home right now.” I sat alone, and then I went home. I made a large bowl of soup, put a light on, lit a candle, and sat in a rocking chair. A little after midnight, the phone rang. It was my aunt Gwen. “Do you want me to come and pick you up?” she asked. “Okay,” I said. “If I leave in three hours, do you think I can make it to the hospital in time?” “Yes, I think so,” she said. I stayed at home for three more hours, and I made myself go to sleep. I woke up around five in the morning, got dressed, and headed out the door. I called my aunt. “I’m on my way.” We arrived just after six. “