Chapter 5
The next day I skipped school and visited my dad in the hospital. I pulled up a chair and sat next to him, quietly weeping. It was weird seeing him lying there, cold and lifeless. I didn't know what to do now. Pray? Be hopeful? Trust some dude chillin' on a cloud somewhere? No, positive and happy thoughts had no place here. This was it. My father was in a coma, and there is more of a chance he won't come out. I realized that if he died, I would have to get a job. Mom couldn't because her idea that everything is a government brainwashing machine would anger the would-be boss, and probably cause trouble with the co-workers. When I figured this out, I cried some more, until a nurse came in to declare that visiting hours were over. I walked through the long white hallways, feeling dazed and despondent. When I finally exited the hospital, I ran all the way to our temple. Our being me and my mom, since Dad wants no part of "the satanic knockoff of Christianity called Judaism." I ran inside, calling for Rabbi Shamus Levitowitz. "Rabbi? Rabbi! Are you there? I need your advice!" Finally I found him, asleep under the altar curtain. Not the classiest rabbi, but a rabbi none the less. "Rabbi Levitowitz! Wake up damn it!" After some rigorous shaking he jolted upward, squinting around the bright temple. "Prosper? What is it boy?" He seemed mildly confused at my red eyes and dry tears. He was used to seeing my quietly brooding, never crying. "My dad...he's in a coma...and I'm afraid of the worse. What should I do to...well let's leave it what should I do." "We'll me boy," the old rabbi sighed, exhibiting his Irish heritage. He always made me laugh, being a rare Irish Jew and all. "...I'm afraid there is nothing you can do. Pray, I suppose. You can't control these matters which are in God's hands." I figured he was right, so after a quick prayer I thanked him and rode the bus home. I arrived to find Aunt Esma in the kitchen with Mom, cooking her world-famous Chicken Poofs. "Oh hi Prosper!" she yelled in a sing song voice, "I made you a present!" She ran to her overstuffed bag and pulled out a black and red blanket, with one side made with (synthetic, calm down) fur. "It gets cold in that room of yours. Dark too. Try opening a window." Then she kissed me on the cheek and went back to her cooking. I walked over to the couch and turned on the TV. After channel surfing for twenty minutes I finally settled on Soap Joe Round Butt. I texted Jesse, reassuring to him my safety. I laid down and took in my surroundings. The smell of Aunt Esma's cooking and the soft fur of the blanket comforted me a lot...it made me feel...safe. At home. Which I was. So I guess it all worked out for the best.