Page 26 of Pity Play

“Why don’t you keep it, honey?” she says. “Our new condo won’t have enough space for it.”

“How bigisyour new condo?” I’m suddenly worried they won’t have room for me to visit … or God forbidlivethere if I can’t get my crap together. Not that living in a seniors’ golf community is my ideal, but in the beggars/choosers scenario, I would most definitely be classified as the former.

“It’s one bed and one and a half baths,” my dad informs me. “But that will be plenty because we plan on spending a lot of time out and about.”

“Wait until you see the clubhouse!” my mom gushes. “There are three pools, and even a spa!”

“Sounds like there won’t be room in your new condo for visitors.” I know that sounds like sour apples, but I’m not feeling very wanted.

“Part of the condo fees includes the use of guest rooms,” my dad says. “We can have one for two weeks every year. One week for you, and one for Noah.” I guess that’s it then. My parents are done with me.

Tears flood my eyes as my nose fills with snot. “I’d better get going,” I tell them. “I have a lot to do.”

My mom’s tone takes a tender turn. “I know you love our house, honey, but it’s time for all of us to see what life has in store for the future.”

I’m tempted to say something sarcastic, like, “As long asyou’rehappy …” but I know that wouldn’t be fair. My parents have given me refuge from life for the past three years. That’s a huge gift that I shouldn’t have expected to last forever.

“Email me lists of stuff you want to keep,” I tell them. I hang up before they have a chance to say anything else.

My parents have a right to do whatever they want with their property, but I can’t help but worry what’s going to happen to me. Other than teaching, which I’d have to go back to school for, there’s not going to be anything I can do in Elk Lake. Not only am I faced with being homeless, but I’m also going to be town-less.

Putting down my phone, I succumb to a big, fat cry. I knowI’m being pitiful, but I just can’t seem to help myself. Not even Luke Phillips staying here is enough to make a dent in my sadness.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LUKE

I feel even less optimistic walking into the hospital today than I did yesterday. So much so, I’m tempted to turn around and go straight to the diner. I remind myself that the main reason for my being in Elk Lake is not work. I’m here to repair things with my dad. The problem is I don’t know how to do that if he won’t meet me halfway.

Stopping off in the gift shop, I buy my dad his favorite candy bar along with a spy novel. He always complains he doesn’t have time to read. The way things stand now, he has nothing but time.

I take the elevator up to the third floor with as much excitement as if I were ascending to the hangman’s platform. As soon as the doors open, I walk out and run into my old friend Tony.

“Luke, hi. You here to see your dad?”

“I’m sure not here for the fun of it,” I tell him. Making a face, I ask, “How’s he doing, anyway?”

Tony grimaces. “He’s in a lot of pain and he’s frustrated to be stuck in traction.”

“So, delightful as always?” I predict.

“I remember your dad being a pretty cool guy,” he says. “He’s just in a bad place right now.”

I’m not going to talk about my father’s personality shift these last years, so I ask, “Is there anything else you can do for him?”

Tony shakes his head. “Unfortunately, he just has to get through it. I’m sure it helps having you and your mom here though.”

I’m pretty sure he’s wrong about my part in my dad’s recovery. If nothing else, I’m probably raising his blood pressure to an alarming degree. “I guess I’ll go see him.”

I take a step forward as Tony says, “Let me know if you want me to order you a breakfast.”

While I am hungry, neither Lorelai’s attempt at cinnamon buns nor hospital food are what I consider enticing options. “Thanks, Tony, but I’m good.” Then I walk toward my dad’s room.

Peeking my head in, I confirm that my mom isn’t there. I didn’t think she would be, but I would have welcomed the buffer. “Hey, Dad,” I say, trying to sound happier than I feel.

“Luke,” he grumbles. “What are you doing here?”

Striding toward the bed, I tell him, “I’m here to see you. You did just fall off a roof.”

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