The Beginning Read online

As soon as he’s out of the shower, he seems well enough to leave the suite, so we head out to the pyramids.

  When the pyramids are right in front of me, I'm taken aback by them, by the sheer size and the history. “I didn’t think I’d be too phased when I saw them. I figured I was coming to see a bunch of sand bricks, but being here, and experiencing it, is so much different than I ever thought it would be,” I tell my father while my focus is still on the massive pyramids standing before us.

  I can sense his presence beside me before he even opens his mouth to speak. “I know what you mean, love. It’s an amazing sight.” And he stands in place for the longest time. I shift my focus to him, and I see he’s studying every stone that makes up the structure he’s standing before. He's happy to have been able to do this before he was to leave the earth for good.

  “I’m going to go and have a look around the other side,” I tell him.

  “Okay. I’ll catch up with you in a minute,” he answers, his eyes never leaving the structure, not for a moment.

  A couple of hours into our excursion, we stop for a late lunch at a local restaurant called, Nile City. The ceilings are fifty feet high with beautiful murals throughout the building. Egypt is so much more than I thought it would be, before coming here, never would I have pinned it down as a place I would have wanted to see before I died. I was so damn wrong. I’m so happy I'm here to see and be with him for this experience.

  Once seated in the main room, we don’t wait very long before an English-speaking waiter welcomes us. If it wasn’t for him, God only knows what we would have ordered off the menu.

  When we’d finished our meals, the waiter returns to clear the table. “Was everything to your liking?”

  “It was beautiful, and thank you so much for speaking English. It’s made my night more enjoyable.” I laugh.

  He looks between dad and me. “Am I the only person that you’ve come across that speaks your language?”

  I nod my head. “For me, yes. I’ve had to use the translator on my phone to communicate with others. It’s been a little embarrassing, I’ve stuffed up a couple of times. I accidentally asked a woman if she wanted to come up to my room with me.” I shake my head, still mortified by the incident.

  The waiter begins to laugh. “Wow, that was a slip-up, wasn’t it?” He says as he continues to chuckle.

  “Just a little.”

  “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

  My gaze moves to my father's. “Did you want anything, Dad?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “No, I’m good.”

  My focus moves back to the waiter. “I think we’ll just grab the check. We aren’t used to the heat here, and I’m pretty sure we’re both still suffering from the long flights it took to get here.” I feel how heavy my eyelids are and I know I could use a lie-down. I’m amazed at how well dad’s coped with all the walking we’ve done today, but I can see that he is beginning to grow tired. “I think it’s time to head back, Dad?”

  “Yeah, I’m feeling a little worse for wear.”

  The waiter returns with the check and Dad leaves him a nice big juicy tip. He'd been so helpful and gave me a few tips on how to survive haggling in the streets of Cairo.

  Within fifteen minutes of being back at the hotel, Dad's asleep, and over the next two days, I can see that he isn’t doing so great, but he’s been so fucking stubborn. Even though he is sick, he still wants to press on.

  On our last day in Egypt, I take him out to see the Sphinx. It was the main reason we came here. We spent most of the day wandering around, and I was desperately trying to be patient with him, but I know my father better than anyone else. He’s ill. He needs to go and rest, but he will never admit it. After a few harsh words on my behalf, he caves in and lets me take him back to our suite where he falls into a deep, very much needed sleep.

  Chapter Seven

  We landed in Ireland just after lunch and were greeted by my dad’s cousin, George.

  George is his first cousin, but out of respect, I call him, Uncle. George is fifty-nine and a little pudgy around the waistline but he's a good-looking man. “Oh my goodness, Cassie. I can’t believe how grown-up you are,” he says in his very thick Irish accent. It’s the type of accent that if you aren’t related to an Irishman, you’d have no idea what they're saying.

  “It’s been too long, Uncle George.” I then whisper, “Thank you for having us.”

  “You’re more than welcome.” He then pulls out of our embrace. “How about I get you back to the house?”

  “That sounds great.” We walk through the terminal and out to the parking lot.

  My eyes grow wide when George presses the unlock button on his keys, and I see the lights flash on a brand-new Maserati. I knew my relatives had money, but I didn’t think it was Maserati kind of money.

  “Sweet ride, Uncle,” I say as I run my hand along the boot. The car is sexier than any male I’ve ever seen. If I could marry a car, this would be the one.

  “Your daughter has exceptional taste, Patrick.” My uncle chuckles.

  “She sure does. I hope the man she marries, has enough money to keep her happy. Cass would live in a trailer as long as she had a brand new black Ferrari to drive around in.” My father snickers as I flash him an evil glare. “Let’s face it, love. You have an unnatural obsession with cars. It’s usually a trait set aside for men, but you, you take after me, more than you know." He laughs as he hops into the passenger side.

  We drive for about an hour, and the scenery is breathtaking. The Irish countryside is so green, and vibrant; I’ve never seen anything like it back home in Australia. As the car comes to a stop my eyes almost pop out of their sockets. It isn’t a house, it's a fucking mansion. “Um, Uncle George, I thought you said we were heading to your house?”

  “This is my house, Cassie.”

  Dad interrupts. “I didn’t tell her how big the place was. I think she’s a little intimidated.”

  I nod my head in agreement when Dad turns to face me. “How many rooms does it have?” I ask, my breath a little shaky.

  “It has two living rooms, nine bedrooms all complete with private bathrooms, and it also has two kitchens,” he says nonchalantly. Apparently, being uber-rich is normal on this side of the globe.

  My eyes are going to pop out of my freaking head. “Hang on a second, Uncle. Did you say two kitchens?” I ask, my mouth agape.

  He turns in his seat to face me. “Sure did. Do you like to cook, Cass?”

  I nod my head, enthusiastically. “I love to cook and bake.”

  He turns back to look out the windscreen. “Well then, they’re all yours to play in while you’re here. Please, I want you to both make yourselves at home. You don’t need to ask our permission to get a drink or something to eat. Our home is your home.” I can see him smiling through the rear-view mirror.

  When we pull up to the main doors, we are met by a butler. George opens his door and hops out. “Ah, Rodney. Hello, my dear man. Could you please help us with the bags?”

  “Of course, Sir.” He nods.

  “It’s George, remember?”

  Rodney smiles, and I can’t help but stare at him. I didn’t think I’d ever be related to someone who had a butler. It’s fascinating! Rodney then comes around the car and holds his hand out to take my bags. “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I say shyly.

  “It is fine, my lady. This is my job, so please do not feel guilty. Now, can I take your bags?” He smiles while holding out his hand.

  Reluctantly, I give him the bag and thank him as George turns to face me. “Rodney’s our butler, but he’s also a dear, and loyal friend. He and his family have been with us O’Gradys for many years.”

  I then hear my father chuckle. “I forgot to fill her in on how everything works around here, George,” he explains. “The house looks just as beautiful as I remember, cousin.”

  As we’re escorted to our rooms, all I can think is, ‘Wow’ and ‘it's incredible.’ The ceilin
gs are the highest I have ever seen, and the house has a Downton Abbey feel to it. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that I am going to be staying here.

  When Rodney shows me to my room, I am in utter awe of my surroundings. The bed is king-size, at least, and made of solid oak, and there are what seems to be a hundred pillows resting upon it. Either I’ll have a comfy sleep, or I’ll suffocate to death by the pillows and cushions. Either way, I know I'll die happy.

  After unpacking my cases, I head out of the bedroom and begin to search for the others. I keep walking until I hear laughter, so I follow it until I find George, and dad, in one of the living rooms.

  George looks up and is the one to see me first. “Cassie my love, did you get settled into your room okay?” he asks.

  I nod. “I did, thank you. The room is beautiful.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He holds up his crystal tumbler. “Would you like a drink? We have every mixer there is.”

  “I would love a drink.”

  He begins to stand, but I hold my hand up to stop him. “It’s okay, Uncle George. I can do it.”

  He leans back in his seat. “The bar is just there.” He points to the far corner of the room. “And, Cassie, call me George. You make me feel so old when you say, Uncle.”

  “Thanks, George.” I smile as I walk over to the bar, and immediately I see he wasn’t kidding when he said they have every mixer.

  First, I reach for a chilled glass from out of the bar fridge and pour myself a bourbon and Coke, then I take a sip to be sure it's the perfect strength. ‘Oh yeah, that’s good,’ I think as I take the seat closest to my dad.

  “So, Pat. It’s been a while since we’ve been seated face to face. How are things now that you're rid of that bitch of a woman?” George asks, but he then looks over at me, and immediately, his face drops. “Oh my god, Cassie. Please forgive me, I didn’t mean to insult you while talking about your mother. It just slipped out.” Poor guy seemed mortified.

  I wave it off, and dad decides to chime in on my behalf. I know what he’s going to say before he even says it. “George, you’re talking to a girl who one day slapped her mother across the face, and the next day, at a funeral, I might add." He holds up his finger to be sure that what he’s going to say, comes across with the intention it should. “Punched and broke the bitches nose.” The second dad utters the words, ‘broke her nose,’ he starts laughing and can’t seem to stop.

  George’s eyes widen, and the sides of his mouth turn up. "You’re fecken kidding?” he begins to laugh. “What did she do for you to hit her at a fecken funeral?”

  I can’t get a word in as my dad’s laughter has now taken over the room. “I can’t even get around to telling the story when he’s nearby,” I yell over dad’s chuckles. “He loses the plot anytime it’s mentioned.”

  “I can’t say I blame him, wee girl.” George laughs.

  In my peripheral vision, I see movement, so I look over and see that my Aunt Carol, George’s wife, enters the room.

  Immediately, I hop up and run over to meet her embrace. “My goodness, my dear, Cassie. Skype does you no justice.”

  My smile is broad, and I squeeze her a little tighter, but not hard enough to break her. Carol is a slender woman, she looks a lot younger than her age and is elegant in every way. “Aunt Carol, it has been too long,” I tell her.

  “It’s just Carol, my love. How was your flight?” She leans in a little closer to me. “How did your father manage?” She whispers in my ear.

  “He did okay until the second last day in Cairo. He was worn out, but I have a feeling that now he’s back home, he’ll be okay,” I whisper in return.

  She then holds me at arm's length, her eyes on mine. I can see her concern, but the concern is for me, not my dad. “We’ll just have to keep a close eye on him then.”

  I let go of a breath. “I know, I’m hoping he doesn’t think he has to put on a front for us. He’s a very proud, and stubborn man at times. A stubborn man that can have an Irish temper." I chuckle.

  “Don’t you worry, wee girl. We’re here to take some of the weight off you. Now,” she inspects me from head to toe. “Is there a boyfriend you’ve left behind in Australia?”

  I shrug, I never went into my relationship with her over Skype.

  "There was a boyfriend.” I shake my head in a bid to stop any tears from forming.

  “Come here.” Carol tugs on my hand and takes us to a love seat that’s resting in the opposite corner of the room to where dad and George are seated. “So, what happened?"

  I let it all out. I don’t spare any detail, even when it comes to the letdown of the century, sex with Mitchell.

  When I've been through every sordid detail, she gathers my free hand in hers while I take a sip of my drink.

  “Please don’t let that experience put you off. From the sounds of things, he is just plain crap at it.” I choke on my drink. “Yes, dear,

  he was shit. Most men know exactly how to please their woman. Just you wait, I know that the man of your dreams will come along and sweep you off your feet. Try to accomplish what it is you want to do with your life before actively trying to find Mr. Right. Men are always around, but your youth doesn’t last a lifetime. By the time I was your age, I was already married and pregnant. I don’t regret my decision, but I do wish I’d waited a while. Live your life to its fullest, my love. And never trust anyone but yourself.”

  “I’ve already begun the travel part, so I’ll have to wait and see what’s to come. My main focus for the next year and a bit will be my dad.” I immediately close my mouth when I see that my father is headed in our direction.

  “Carol, it’s so good to see you,” he gushes as he approaches.

  Carol stands and hugs him. “It’s good to see you too, Patrick. How are you feeling?”

  He pulls out of the embrace so he can look at her. “Good now that I’m home. This is where I’m meant to be. It all feels so right.”

  We sit and talk and laugh with one another until I notice that dad is beginning to look tired. “Dad, why don’t you go upstairs and have a nap? Everyone will still be here in the morning,” I say as I pat his knee.

  He then begins to yawn. “I hate to say it, but you’re right. I think the flight has taken it out of me.”

  After he said his goodnights and had gone upstairs, George takes the seat where dad was and leans into me. “So, my girl, how has your dad really been feeling? I keep asking him, but the only damned thing he says is that he’s ‘fine.' But I know he isn’t, though.”

  I look down at my now empty glass, wishing it was full. “He isn’t great. I don’t understand what the hell is going on. The doctors gave him fourteen months. They told us the symptoms wouldn’t be overly aggressive for, at least, a couple of more months. When I see him in pain, I try to hide my fear. It won’t do either of us any good if we dwell on it. I have to live for the moment, just as he is.” I go on to tell them about the vomiting episode that happened back in Cairo and how it scared me.

  George takes my free hand in his. “I won’t ever lie to you, Cassie. Things are going to get worse, but if you at any point begin to feel overwhelmed, please do not try to deal with it on your own. We’re here to help you through the rough parts. Okay?” He looks at me, and his features portray sympathy.

  “Thank you.” I move my gaze between George and Carol. “To both of you. I know I'm tough and can cope with a lot of shit that life throws at me, but cancer is not only going to kick dad’s ass, but it’ll come after me, too.”

  Carol smiles a grave smile. “It’ll be hard, but we’re here. If there’s something you need help with, at any stage, whether it be emotional help or just physical help with your dad, you must come and say something.” She leans in and kisses me on the temple. I feel a tear escape the side of my eye, and it runs down my cheek. Carol, bless her, takes me in her arms. “We’re here for you, my girl,” she coos, and the floodgates break.

  I stay in her embrace, crying until there
are no tears left to shed. Carol kisses me goodnight, and I then hug George and make my way upstairs. Before going to sleep, I take out my phone and call Zoe.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, Zoe. I just wanted to let you know that we’ve arrived in Ireland.”

  “Oh good. I’m glad you got there safe.”

  “We did. How’s Jimmy?”

  “Really good. They are going to try to bring him out of the coma tomorrow.”

  “Oh my God, I’m so happy for you, babe.” The doctors decided to bring Jimmy out of the coma the day after I left Melbourne, but his body became distressed, so they had to sedate him again. Tomorrow will be their second attempt.

  “Thanks. I can’t wait to be able to talk to him, and have him respond to me.”

  “That is so exciting, Zoe.”

  “I know, right? Anyway, how’s your dad holding up?”

  “He wasn’t feeling that well towards the end of our stay in Cairo, but he’s perked up now that we’re in Ireland.” I don’t want to get into the fact that dad’s already showing symptoms. She doesn’t need the extra stress at the moment.

  “Poor thing. Well, you make sure you call me if you ever need to vent or to forget about what’s going on around you.”

  “I will, Hun. I’m going to go to bed now. Give Annette and Jimmy big hugs from me.”

  “Consider it done. Sweet dreams, Cassie. Bye.”

  “Bye, hun.” I hang up the phone.

  I was so exhausted from the traveling and, of course, the crying, that I was fast asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.

  The next morning when I wake, I dress and walk downstairs. Eventually, I find Dad, Carol, and George, in one of the kitchens, and when they see me, they call out, "Good morning," in unison.

  I drop my still exhausted butt down on one of the seats. “Good morning.”

  “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Carol asks me.

  “I would love a nice big ass cup if you have one.” I begin to stand to make it, but Carol waves me away.

  “Stay seated, my dear girl, I’ll make it for you.” She turns around, and I see a colossal cappuccino machine behind her.