1929, Part 1

I was trying to explain cryptocurrency to my father. Yeah, looking back, that seemed like an awful idea. But he was asking how I'm making money off of Steemit, so I tried to go over it bit by bit to see if I could get him to see the whole picture. I thought he was comprehending it. But then he kept saying obscure things like "Balloon" and "1929." The 1929 referred to the stock market crash, to which I replied "Yeah, but I don't have any real money invested in Steem."

He would say "1929" and then point a fake gun to his head and pull the trigger. His hands barely composed a gun, which I guess is the point I should've noticed something was wrong.

Towards the end of this conversation, I noticed his words were slurring, like he had a hard time speaking, so I asked him "Dad, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired." It hit me then that he wasn't making full sentences.

Somehow he changed the subject over to ad revenue on YouTube videos, and was showing me random "Epic Fail" videos, and then pointing the screen at me and saying "Money? Really?" My brother was in the room then, and we both tried to explain that, yeah, people watch this stuff, stupid or not, so businesses buy out ads on these videos. It's all marketing.

He kept saying "Money? Really?"

My brother Tyler and I eventually just walked out, and my dad went into his room. When the door was closed, I told Tyler "I think he's having a stroke." I mentioned that I think I broke him.

Tyler replied "He's been slurring like that all day," like it was normal and nothing to be concerned about.

I texted my mom and said "I think I broke my father. I tried explaining ad revenue to him and he kept repeating the same words over and over."

She texted back "What?? When?? I'm worried about him."

I told her I was sorry for worrying her, but looking back, yeah, I guess it was right that I did. I don't know.

My brother and I were watching "Near Dark," the old Kathryn Bigelow film about vampires, when I heard my mom say something to the affect of "We're taking you to the hospital."

I told Tyler to pause the movie, and then walked out. Apparently, my father was laying in his floor and before Mom could say anything to him, he said "I don't know." She told me to start the van and that we were going to the hospital. I wasn't wearing much in the way of, well, decent clothing. I had on my ex's basketball shorts, a black mewithoutYou t shirt, a camo coat and camo crocks without socks. I looked, well, bad.

I started the car, and realized I was shaking bad. Like, shivering, but more of it. I told myself it was the caffeine from the tea I was drinking, but yeah, that's bull.

Mom finally convinced him to come with us, and at this point his slurring was obvious. He stumbled out to the van, sat in the seat beside me, and my mom got in the back. My brother rode over to the hospital with Chelsea, this girl from my church, and my sister and a few kids who were staying over from the church stayed home.

We pulled away, and Mom told me to hurry, but don't speed. My dad piped up "Yeah, don't get a ticket."

I calmly replied "Yeah, I won't get a ticket."

The hospital wasn't far, but the car ride felt like forever, like a single few minutes of time had been stretched thin and was taking it's time with us. It was raining and dark and the road reflected the streetlights hazy reds and greens.

My mom and dad bickered back and forth, him trying to convince us not to take us. He said "There goes your chicken... kitchen." He meant kitchen, of course.

Mom, sobbing, said "I don't care about the kitchen Honey."

"Y'all are acting like I'm having a fucking seizure."

My mom cried more. My dad doesn't really cuss like that, so yeah. We're not perfect, but he's never cussed like that out loud before. She told me to hurry.

There's a curve, like, a really sharp curve about halfway between my house and the hospital, and about 800 feet away from it, my dad was like "We're on the curve!" really panicking. He kept telling me I was speeding, which I wasn't. My eyes felt glued in place, like all I could look at was the road passing under our van.

I pulled in the wrong entrance and had to drive back out to find the emergency entrance. My dad exclaimed "You're going the wrong way!" and I tried to explain we had to go to the emergency section. He told me how to get there, somehow.

We pulled under the awning, and my mom and dad lept out, hurrying to the front desk inside. I sat, wipers running, looking at my hands on the steering wheel. I was terrified. I don't know that this was the best idea ever, but I pulled my phone out, and texted my ex's dad. I said "I know this is forward, but tell Jordan to call me or text me. Please. My Dad's having a stroke or something and we're at the hospital and I need her."

Then my mom texted me, telling me to park, and I maneuvered away from the awning and back into the stark black of the parking lot.