I’m sorry,” Kenzie sniffed.

“Stop saying that,” Addy said.

“But I am!”

“Kenzie, we’ve been here for five hours and you must have said it five hundred times. Dad was an alcoholic, okay? Is. He would have destroyed his liver whether you went out last night or not.”

“But I could have been there,” Kenzie whined. “I could have cut him off, maybe—”

“When’s the last time Dad let anyone get between him and his whiskey?” Addy asked.

As she tried to calm Kenzie down, she had to admit it worked for her, too. Being forced to be reasonable for Kenzie’s sake made her see things from a different perspective.

It’s not our job to be his caretaker, to tell him when and what he can drink.

“Addison and Kenzie Fuller?” A nurse they hadn’t spoken to before approached them. Her shoes clicked against the linoleum.

“Yes?” Addy asked as Kenzie jumped up.

“The doctor has approved family visitors, but only for a few minutes. Your dad’s awake, but very groggy.” The nurse touched Addy’s forearm. “Just a warning. He doesn’t look very good and he might be… confused.”

Kenzie shot her a look. Confused and doesn’t look good. We’re used to that.

But the nurse’s warning didn’t prepare her for what she saw. Their dad had so many wires that popped out of him he looked part machine. His watery blue eyes shot toward them as they entered, but he didn’t move his head.

“Addison? MacKenzie?” he asked, as if he weren’t certain.

“It’s us, Dad,” Kenzie said and rushed toward him.

Another nurse that had been checking his vitals glanced at them.

“You’re his daughters?” she asked. Addy nodded. “I’ll give you a couple of minutes, but I need to come back soon to finish up.”

“My heart…” he said, but Addy shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter.”

His eyes glazed over and although he looked in her direction, it was like he looked straight through her. “Thirsty …”

“Here, Dad,” Kenzie said, and held up a paper cup of water by his bed. “There’s water right here.”

He shook his head slightly, but it looked pained. “Drink …”

“Yeah, Dad, there’s water right here,” Kenzie said. “Do you want me to hold it up for you?”

“Bottle…”

“He wants whiskey, Kenzie,” Addy snapped.

Her dad nodded vigorously.

“Oh. No, Dad, sorry. You’re in the hospital. You can’t have that here. Try the water…”

He gathered up a reserve of strength and knocked it out of her sister’s hand. “Dad, stop!” Addy said.

“Janice?” For a moment his eyes cleared and locked on Addy’s.

“Dad—” she started.

“Janice, so beautiful.”

“He thinks you’re Mom,” Kenzie whispered loudly.

“Yeah, I get that, Kenzie. Dad, Mom is—”

“Where the girls, Jan?”

“Dad—”

“Addy and Kenzie, they okay?”

Addy felt tears well at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back. “They’re good,” she said. “Addy and Kenzie are fine.”

“Where… Jan, where are they? Want to see them…”

“They’re on the way. They’re coming right now.”

“Okay. That’s good,” he said. “Janice, you look real pretty.”

“Thanks,” Addy said. She looked to Kenzie, but her sister was frozen. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Tired,” he said.

“You should rest. Get some sleep.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“I love you, too,” Addy said as she forced the waver out of her voice.

“I love you, Dad,” Kenzie said.

As her sister touched his shoulder, the machines started to blare. The nurse rushed into the room with another nurse in pink scrubs on her heels.

“BP is dropping,” she said as she lifted his arm and punched a pattern into the machine. The nurse barked to the pink-suited nurse, “Get a doctor.”

“What’s happening?” Kenzie cried. “Is he okay? What’s—”

“I need you both to wait outside,” the nurse said. She barely looked up.

“No! We’re not—”

“Outside now.” Addy grabbed her sister’s arm and dragged her into the hallway.

“Addy, stop! Dad needs us! He’s—”

“Dad’s gone, Kenzie,” Addy said.

She listened to Kenzie blubber and sob. “How do you know? They didn’t say that. You can’t give up on him…”

Addy guided Kenzie toward the corner of the waiting room and wrapped her arm around her. Kenzie cried into her shoulder, soaked her shirt. For some reason it reminded her of when they were kids and one of the neighbors had cut off Kenzie’s favorite Barbie’s hair into a mohawk.

As tears tracked down her face, she thought of how she’d been strong for Kenzie then. Damn if she wouldn’t do the same now.

“Addison? MacKenzie?” The same older doctor that had met her with Jack loomed over them. “I’m sorry, but your father’s heart stopped. We tried everything to revive him, but it was just too weakened by the cardiomyopathy.”

Kenzie began to keen, and Addy massaged her shoulder gently.

“Thank you for trying,” Addy said, holding in a sob.

“If it’s any consolation, he went quick and painlessly. If it weren’t for the heart condition… cirrhosis is often a very long, drawn-out and painful disease. It… I hope this doesn’t sound crude, but it could be seen as a blessing.”

“A blessing?” Kenzie said as she looked up from Addy’s shirt. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

The doctor stiffened and looked away. “Someone will be by soon to talk about next steps with you.”

“Thanks,” Addy said quietly.

“Next steps? What does he mean next steps?” Kenzie asked.

“I mean… I guess… what to do with the body? I don’t know, I’ve never done this before.”

“What… what do we do with it?” Kenzie asked.

“I don’t know,” Addy repeated.

Two hours passed, and both girls cried most of their tears out. Addy felt hollow and empty, like a dishrag that had been wrung out.

Finally, with Kenzie’s nagging, Addy approached the receptionist.

“Excuse me? My father just… just died. And we were told to wait—”

“Yes, Mrs. Stratton,” the receptionist said. “The hospital mortician is on his way right now to get you.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Addy examined the woman’s face, but she didn’t recognize her. But clearly, the woman knew her as Jack’s wife.

When she returned to Kenzie, there was a thin, pale, balding man standing over her. The epitome of a mortician.

“Addison Fuller?” he asked and turned to her.

“Yes.” She was taken aback by his sharp features.

“I’m Craig Sanders, the hospital mortician on duty. The remains have been transported to the on-site mortuary. I’ll need one or both of you to formally identify the body.”

“Identify… yeah, it’s our dad,” Kenzie said. “We were literally in there talking to him when he… when he…”

“I understand this seems strange and outdated, but it’s required,” Mr. Sanders said.

“Oh, um, okay?”

“Follow me.” He walked at a surprisingly fast pace that made both of them half jog after him.

It had only been a few hours, but their father’s body looked almost cartoonishly lifeless. Addy had always thought the dead would look like they were sleeping, but that wasn’t the case.

It was almost magical how obvious it was that there was no life left. Kenzie let out a small cry, but no tears fell. She was all cried out.

“Is this your father’s body, Theodore Fuller?” Mr. Sanders asked.

“Yes,” Addy said.

“Sign here.”

She scribbled her name where he pointed, unaware of what the paper said. Kenzie reached out to their father’s arm as she handed the pen back.

“Don’t touch him, Kenzie,” she said quickly.

“Why not?”

“Your sister’s probably right,” Mr. Sanders said. “It can be disorienting. Cold and stiff. But you’re welcome to, if you’d like.”

Kenzie shivered. “Never mind.”

“This way,” Mr. Sanders said, and escorted them into what looked like any other office. It could have been a CPA’s or attorney’s.

“So, what’s next?” Addy said. She was comforted by kicking into planning mode.

“Are you working with a funeral director?” Mr. Sanders asked.

Kenzie let out a strange laugh.

“No,” Addy said. “We weren’t… exactly planning this—”

“I understand. Is there a specific church or other faith-based institute you’d like to handle the final proceedings?”

“No,” Addy said. “Dad isn’t—wasn’t—religious.”

“That’s fine. Do you know if your father had a will? Or other legal document that stipulated his wishes?”

“I… I don’t know,” Addy said. “I don’t think so. But, he’d want to be buried next to Mom.”

“Yeah,” Kenzie said. She nodded quickly. “Next to Mom.”

“Alright, and do you know the name of the cemetery or mausoleum?”

“It’s just the one on the hill,” Addy said. “You know? The big one.”

“And what was your mother’s name?”

“Janice Fuller.”

“Alright.” Mr. Sanders made a note. “Addison, are you the administrator of your father’s estate?”

“I… I guess so?”

“Will the body be cremated prior to burial?”

“Is that something I have to decide now?”

“Not right away. But the doctor on staff does need to know. It’s required information on the medical certificate so you can register the death. Registration is required within five days.”

Addy looked toward Kenzie.

“Yeah,” her sister said. “Cremation. He… I don’t want him to be buried where all the bugs and… just cremate him. Okay?”

“Okay,” Addy said. “Cremation.”

“Alright,” Mr. Sanders said and made another note. “Do you know if your father would have wanted his organs donated prior to cremation?”

“I, uh, I don’t think he felt strongly about that,” Addy said.

“I don’t know if anyone would want them,” Kenzie said quietly.

“Kenzie!”

“That’s a common mistake,” Mr. Sanders said quickly. “Quite a bit of remains can be utilized for donation. Tissue, corneas—”

“We get it,” Addy said. “Well, I guess? I mean, yes, you have my permission if there’s anything… you know, that can be used…”

“Alright, then,” Mr. Sanders said. “If you’d like, the hospital works with an excellent funeral director who can serve as the liaison. He can set up arrangements with the cemetery, discuss memorial options with you if that would be of interest, and recommend bereavement counseling.”

“Thanks,” Addy said.

“Right this way, and we’ll get you the medical certificate and connect you with the funeral director.”