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Lilah McCartney’s life was good. She had just recently turned twenty-two and just moved into her first apartment by herself, in the heart of Vancouver. It had been almost four years since she’s heard from her father, John.
About a week after Lilah had turned 18, she and her best friend, Olivia, whom she met in elementary school, loaded up Olivia’s 1967 Dodge Dart with all of Lilah’s personal belongings and fled Picton after John had burnt his last bridge with her. They made the over four-thousand-kilometre drive to Vancouver, where they ended up staying at a motel for a few weeks before finding jobs as maids for a mobile maid service and an apartment together. She ended up dropping John’s last name, deciding to keep the last name of the father that she missed with all her heart. She knew Paul was up there, somewhere, guiding her through life.
The morning of the second of July, 1987 started off like every other morning. She woke up at precisely nine-twenty-five, got dressed, and walked to the kitchen to begin making her morning coffee. As she flipped the switch on the coffee machine, the landline began to ring. Not thinking much of it, she answers it.
“Lilah?” She froze. She knew that voice from anywhere. The soft, nasally voice that had filled her life with so much turmoil throughout her life, “It’s Dad, Lilah”
“How’d you get this number?” Lilah asked cautiously.
“A phonebook,” John sighed, “Look, I know I’m probably the last person you’d want to hear from, but please, at least hear me out.”
Lilah sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose. As much as she wants to hang up on the man, she wasn’t also going to be a bitch. “I’ll give you three minutes of my time. Okay? I won’t be scared to hang up on you.”
“Lilah,” John breathes out. He doesn’t sound the same, “I just- I know I can never make it up to you. I’ve been an absolute terrible father to you and I am extremely ashamed of myself for it. I know your Dad is ashamed, too. None of this is what he would’ve wanted. I lost sight in what life is all about and I’m sorry I inflicted so much pain on you. You never deserved it. None of it.”
“Are you calling to say you’re sorry or are you calling for another reason?” Lilah asks blankly, knowing full well something was up. She knew John wouldn’t just call for nothing.
“I’m dying, Lils,” John breathes out, “I guess all those years of abusing my body didn’t do great things to my lungs. I have small cell lung cancer.”
“How long do you got?”
“Four to six months.”
Lilah sighs. In a way, it pains her to think that someone she still loves is dying and in pain. But, in another way, maybe even in a twisted way, she feels nothing. Maybe it’s because she believes he deserves it.
“I don’t want to leave this world without rekindling our relationship, Lilah. I understand if you don’t want to ever see me again, but I’d love to see you. I know how much I’ve fucked up. But please, let me make it better.” Lilah could hear the desperation in John’s voice. She didn’t want to hurt him.
“Where are you?” She asks.
“Toronto. I’ll have my accountant wire you money to pay for an airplane.”
“No need,” Lilah chimes in, “I’ll drive.”
“Are you sure?” John questions, “Isn’t that, like, a five-thousand kilometre drive?”
“Kind of,” She breathes out,” but yes. I’m sure. It’s a nice drive.”
So, a day later, Lilah packs up her car with essentials and embarks on the cross-country journey to see her dying father. She took her time when she pleased, not overly caring if the man was dead by the time she got there.
Lilah’s first overnight stop was at a little motel just outside Calgary. It was run by an old man named Tim, and his wife, Mildred. Tim was half-asleep at the front desk when Lilah walked through the door, the bell of the door jerking him awake.
“Can I help you, miss?” Tim quickly asked, sitting up as straight as he could, as if he wasn’t just about to sleep.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but I was wondering how much a night would be? I saw that you had vacancy.”
Tim quickly rose to his feet and began to flip through his books, looking at his availability. He looked up at Lilah, almost as if he were trying to guess why a young woman like her would be coming through at this time of the night.
“Where are you heading?” Tim asks Lilah cautiously.
“Toronto,” she replied.
“What for, if I may ask?”
“To see my estranged dying father.”
Tim blinked. He nodded softly as he flipped through his book once more. “How’s fifteen sound?” Tim asked Lilah with a smile, closing his book.
“Dollars?” Lilah questions with a chuckle, “Don’t you think that’s a bit cheap? From the looks outside, I don’t think this place would be that run down.”
“Miss, I’m not charging you out the nose to get a good night's sleep for your journey. I’ll even let you take home the pillows if you like them.”
Lilah took out her chequebook and sighed, nodding softly. She quickly wrote everything down and tore the cheque out, handing it over to Tim. He smiled at her before grabbing a set of keys.
“I’ll show you to your room.”
The room was nice and clean. Linens fresh and the bed is made neatly. As Lilah sat down on the bed, she smiled to herself. It was soft, almost like the one she remembers her parents having when she was a kid in Scotland. She remembers being really young, her first memory. She remembers climbing into bed with Paul and John after having a bad dream. She remembers how Paul pulls her into his arms gently and rubbed her back. She also remembers John waking up, asking what was wrong. When Paul told John about the dream, she remembers how John cuddled in close to them, and both of her parents sang her to sleep.
That’s the John she loves. She misses those types of memories.
Lilah laid in the bed with a sigh, memories of reasons she wanted to turn back flooding her mind.
No matter what she did growing up, it was never enough. Hell, she was cooking full meals before she was even ten years old. She cleaned the house, she did the laundry, she even paid the bills for John when he was too busy getting high to even care. Even after doing almost everything around the house, it was never enough. She was constantly grounded as a child, for the most stupid reasons, of course.
But there’s always one memory that sticks out in her mind.
When she was twelve and in grade six, she was a part of the school’s volleyball team. She told John many times that she would have practice after school, and like always, he was fine with it. But, that day when she came home, John was livid, screaming stuff like ‘How dare you disobey my curfew for you’ and ‘I wish you died instead of Paul’. That evening ended by John smashing Paul’s urn on the living room floor in a fit of rage and then got drunk upstairs. Lilah was left sobbing, trying to sweep up her dead father’s ashes while also trying to pick pieces of his urn out of the mess.
When Lilah practically ran away, she took Paul with her. He was in a ziplock bag at the time. Once she got a job and a stable income, she got Paul a new urn. He usually sits on a window sill of Lilah’s apartment, outlooking Fraser River. But, right now, he’s sitting in Lilah’s suitcase, waiting to be reunited with John for the final time.
Lilah sighs again. She hadn’t thought of that in a long time. She didn’t really like thinking about it, considering it was the day she lost all respect for John. Thinking about it made her want to turn back and head home, but something deep down told her not to. Maybe it was Paul whispering into her ear to keep driving.
The next morning, Lilah drove for another thirteen hours to Winnipeg. It was starting to sink in that she was a few days away from seeing John, possibly for the last time. As much as she hated him, and how much he abused her in many different ways, she still loved him. The man he was before Paul died is not the man that he is now. Paul’s death killed John Lennon.
As Lilah drove through some small town, just after the Manitoba border, heading into Ontario, Lilah passed a small bar, the sign outside reading ‘Tonight only: Ringo Starr’. She quickly stepped on the brakes and reversed her car, pulling into the parking lot. Her eyes were not deceiving her.
She paid the five-dollar entrance fee and walked into the empty bar, immediately seeing the man sitting on the small stage, playing the guitar mediocrity. She sat down at a table and smiled to herself. What were the odds that Ringo would be playing in a small town like this? It seemed to be a town with no people. Just her, Ringo, the bartender, and the bouncer out front.
Ringo looked up at Lilah and recognized her almost immediately. It helps that she looks exactly like Paul.
“I’d recognize you from anywhere,” Ringo says into the mic.
Lilah smiles weakly, “When was the last time you saw me?”
“Before your parents ran off to Scotland,” Ringo remembers as he sits his guitar down, “I didn’t know you still lived in Canada. John thought you ran off to another country.”
“He did, did he?”
“He did.”
“You still talk to him?”
“I do, occasionally. Especially after his diagnosis. Nobody deserves to be alone and die. No matter what he did.”
Lilah nods and sighs, watching as Ringo gets off the stage to sit next to her at the table. “He did some bad things.”
“I know,” Ringo mumbles, “Paul dying fucked him right up. I can’t imagine what psychological damage waking up to your lover dead next to you would do.”
“Yeah.”
“I think after John got his diagnosis, it kind of put everything into perspective. You know, the way he treated you.” Ringo sighs deeply, reaching to rub Lilah’s hand, which rests on the table, “He truly wishes he didn’t fuck up his relationship with his only kid. He knows what he did to you was horrible. He’s ready to take accountability.”
“We’ll see,” Lilah sighs.
“I wish you could’ve met John when he was young. Still in his prime. I’m sorry you got left with a shitty father.”
“Yeah…”
“You going to go see him?” Ringo asks.
Lilah nods, “Yeah,” she says while breathing out.
“That’s good,” Ringo hums, “He’ll be glad to see you. He’s changed a lot, Lilah. You’ll be pleasantly surprised.”
The rest of Lilah’s journey was anti-climatic. She drove around Lake Superior, through some big cities in Ontario, before she got to Southern Ontario, hitting one of the biggest highways she’s ever seen. She was quite intimidated while driving down the 400, but she did it. Before she knew it, she was pulling up to the address John had given her. It was a small house, nothing fancy. The grass was overgrown, the siding old and falling apart. Lilah couldn’t understand why John would leave Picton for this. She sighed deeply before exiting her car to walk up the dishevelled steps. She knocked at the door, feeling her heart thumping in her chest. It took a bit, but the door finally opened, and John appeared on the other side. His hair was thinned from the chemo, his body frail, even more so than he was before. He looked terrible.
“Lilah…” John breathed out, a massive smile appearing on his face, “You came…”
“I did,” She sighs, not quite buying his demeanour right away, “Only because you’re dying.”
“Right, well, please, come in,” John moved aside, letting his daughter walk inside the house. Lilah couldn’t believe the state in which John is living in. The house is a complete disaster. Garbage and laundry piled up everywhere, dishes piled up in the kitchen, and the worst smell she’s ever been faced with lingers in the house.
“This is where you live?” She asked him softly.
John nods, “Yes.”
“I guess you losing your personal slave made a pretty rough impact on your life.”
“Everything in here was fine until I got sick,” John sighed, “And then- everything got away from me, I guess. Cleaning takes the energy I don’t have anymore.”
Lilah takes a deep breath as she looks around the house. She can’t believe that someone has to live like this, especially her own Dad. This wasn’t any way to live. “Let me help you,” Lilah says softly, “Let me clean this for you.”
“No,” John quickly said, “You’re not going to clean for me. I made you clean your whole life. I can’t do that to you again.”
“I’m offering my help. This is different. I do this for a living. I go into people’s houses and clean places like this all the time. It’s really not a big deal.”
John feels defeated. He nods gently, not wanting to argue with her. He just doesn’t have the energy. “Okay. Fine. But I’m paying you.”
“You can pay me by apologizing for everything you did to me.”
Lilah spent the next few days completely cleaning John’s home, acting as if she were cleaning any other person’s house. Most of the time, John was asleep, leaving Lilah alone with her own thoughts.
As she reorganized the basement of John’s house, in the back of a closet, she finds a box just labelled ‘For Lilah’. She hesitantly opened the box, not exactly knowing what she was going to find. She definitely wasn’t expecting a big box of reel-to-reel tapes, all labelled for something different. One for her secondary school graduation, one for her first job, one for her wedding day, one for when she has her first child, and one for when John passes away. Curiosity got the best of her as she found herself sitting in John’s home studio, loading the tapes into the machine.
“You found them,” John’s voice appears, seemingly out of nowhere.
Lilah turns around to face her father, “Why did I not know about these?” She asks him.
“Because I lost one,” John replies, the guilt filling his voice. “I don’t know where it went. I think it was left at the farm when I sold it, but, I’m not sure. I’ve tried reaching out to the man who bought the farm but,” John sighs, “he’s never responded."
“What was it? The one you lost?”
“Just a… general one, I suppose. It was just one telling you how much you are loved and cherished by him.”
Lilah looks down at the reels in front of her. She can’t really recall a time she felt loved and cherished. All those memories faded a long time ago. She looked up at her father and sighed. She knew that this was John’s only chance at redemption. She knew that it would be therapeutic for the both of them if they rekindled their relationship before John dies.
“Do you want to see Dad?” Lilah asks John softly.
John blinks, not exactly understanding the question. “Pardon me?”
Lilah gets off the floor and walks past her father, walking towards the spare bedroom. She unzips her suitcase and pulls out her father’s urn, holding it up for John to see.
John freezes when he sees the urn. It’s even better than the one he broke. “You- got him a new urn?” John mumbles, feeling tears well up in his eyes.
“He deserved it, especially after what you did to his last one.” Lilah holds it out, letting John take it from his hands. John takes the urn gingerly, tears beginning to spill from his eyes as he stares at it. He didn’t think he would see Paul again.
“Oh, Paul,” He breathes out, gently stroking the metal with the pad of his thumbs, “my love… I’m so incredibly sorry about what I’ve done… I- I know you probably look down on me with shame. Losing you was the worst thing that could’ve ever happened to me… and I’m so sorry you had to watch me treat our daughter like rubbish.” John looks up at his daughter. He sees so much of Paul in her. Not just in her facial features, but her demeanour, and how she carries herself. “I’m so sorry, Lilah.”
“I know,” Lilah says, barely above a whisper. She takes the urn out of John’s hands and places it back in her suitcase. She sighs, looking back up at her father, “I know you’re sorry. And I know that losing dad made you lose a part of yourself, too,”
“I wish I could go back and-and raise you properly… You deserved a father who loved and cherished you and-“ John begins to cry, finally letting his emotions out, “Lils, I hate that I wasn’t the father you needed. I hate that you weren’t given the childhood you deserved.”
Lilah gently pulls John into a hug as the man cries, rubbing his boney back softly. She shushes him, trying to get John to calm down.
“I’m so sorry,” John cries.
“I know.”
That night, Lilah couldn’t sleep. She kept on replaying the way John broke down in front of her. She never thought she’d see the day when he apologized for what he did and actually mean it. Getting an apology was something she dreamt of as a kid. And now, after it’s actually happened, she doesn’t quite know what to do.
She ends up spending the entire night on John’s computer, trying to find all the information she can on oncology doctors in the Vancouver area. She has a feeling that John isn’t necessarily getting the treatment he needs, or deserves.
Lilah stumbles across a research paper that a doctor at the Cancer Centre in Vancouver did, detailing his ‘unique’ way of treating SCLC. The success rate for his treatments was fifty-two percent, even for a person with a terminal diagnosis. It states that even if not cured fully, it could add ten-plus years to a diagnosis. Lilah prints out the study to give John in the morning.
When John finally gets up in the morning, he sits down at his kitchen table, immediately spotting the print of the study. He carefully reads over it, the reality setting in that maybe his life won’t be over quite as fast as he thought.
“Lilah?” He calls out as he rises to his feet. Lilah walks into the kitchen with a smile, hoping he had found what she left for him, “What’s all this?”
“A doctor in Vancouver can help you. I’ve already called the Cancer Centre, and if you’re up for it, I’d love to take you home with me. Leave all this-“ Lilah looks around and sighs, “shit behind.”
“Are you sure?” John questions, “I wouldn’t want to intrude on you, Lils.”
“Dad, listen to me,” Lilah says softly as she walks closer to John, “I’m offering to take you to Vancouver. Nobody, including you, does not deserve to die of cancer. And maybe you won’t. But, if you do, I’d rather you have me with you.”
John couldn’t believe it. Not even a week ago, he had no contact with his daughter, and now, he’s being offered to move in with her in Vancouver.
After a couple of months, John slowly began to recover and feel better. His cancer hadn’t gone away, but it was manageable.
John ended up buying a house close by to Lilah. He watched as she fell in love, got married, and was honoured enough to witness the birth of his first grandchild, which Lilah and her husband named Paul.