Page 78 of Rebound

Chapter 48

Seth

Instead of flying to Buffalo like we did the first time, I decide to drive instead. Jasmine happily babbles in the back seat until she falls into a deep sleep. Layla’s hand rests on my leg and I cover it with my own. I’ve gotten quieter as the hours pass. It’s like there’s a weight on my shoulders the closer we get to my hometown.

She taps my leg to calm me, and says, “You’re doing the best you can.”

I shrug. “Sometimes I used to wish I had a sibling to share the load with, but with my luck, that sibling would be as fucked up as our father, and I’d be stuck taking care of him too.”

“Why don’t you let me handle some things,” she suggests. “I’ll pay his bills and I’ll deal with the housekeeper. I’ll talk to you if I need to but let me take the load off your back.”

“Really? You’ll do that?” I ask. When she nods, I say, “I can’t do that to you. He’s—”

“You’re not doing anything to me. I’m offering. It will be one less thing on your mind when you’re traveling to and from games. And if your dad needs anything, he can call me. Teamwork, Whorekowski.” She taps my leg as if everything is settled. I give her a quick glance before turning back to the road.

“I’ll take you up on that,” I say, and she smiles, satisfied.

I remain quiet for the remainder of the forty-five-minute drive. Jasmine wakes up just as we turn down the cul-de-sac. After I pull into the driveway, Layla steps out of the car and I get Jasmine, and just like last time, Dad is peeking through the blinds.

“Whose car is that?” Layla asks about the dark blue sedan parked in the driveway.

“The therapist must be here,” I say. “That’s his car.”

“Let me get Jazzy’s suitcase,” she says, and I pop the trunk. She takes out Jasmine’s bag and her own. When I look back toward the house, the front door is open and my steps falter when my dad comes outside. I stand frozen in place, my eyes wide at what I’m seeing.

“Baba!” Jasmine says, happy to see her grandfather.

From where I’m standing, I can see beads of sweat on my dad’s forehead and a tall man with a big gut and a receding hairline comes out behind him.

“You’ve got this,” he says in a soothing voice. “Just breathe like we practiced.” Dad takes a deep breath and takes another step. He stops just at the top of the stairs, looks down at us, and smiles.

“How do you feel?” the therapist asks. “Breathe,” he says again. “It’s okay. You’re not alone. I’m here and so is your family. See how happy your granddaughter is to see you?”

Jasmine claps her hands and calls for him again. “Baba,” she says again.

“Hey, Son,” he says. “Hi, Layla. Seth, bring Jasmine to me.” He holds his arms out for her, and Jasmine reaches for him. On autopilot, I go up the steps and hand Jasmine over. Dad kisses her cheek and turns his back to us, but I still see his tears.

Without another word, he goes inside, but he doesn’t close the door behind him.

I look down at Layla but quickly look away.

“I’m Dr. Reynolds,” the other man says. He shakes my hand, and Layla leaves the suitcases in the driveway to greet him. After she does, she goes, she picks them up and goes inside. “Your dad’s made a lot of progress this week. I can’t be more specific, but he’s had a breakthrough.”

“Yeah. I haven’t seen him outside since I was a kid,” I say, still amazed. “Did he finally tell you what happened to him?”

“He did,” is all Dr. Reynolds says.

“Well, what the hell happened to turn him into that?” I ask.

“I can’t reveal that. Feel free to ask him, but please don’t push him if he won’t talk about it. He wants to protect you from it.”

“Protect me?” I ask as I glare down at the doctor. “You think he’s ever protected me in my entire life?” When he opens his mouth to speak, I talk over him. “Before you spout your psycho mumbo jumbo, you should know he didn’t protect me from a damn thing. I’ve been more of a parent to him than he’s ever been to me.” I glare at him, daring him to contradict me, but he doesn’t. I don’t see sympathy in his eyes either, which is the last thing I want.

“Have you tried getting therapy for yourself?” he asks. His voice has softened, but my eyes have hardened.

“I did,” I admit. “And it was a waste of my time. All they did was try and tell me how to change myself so I could accommodate his crazy when what I needed was for that stupid shrink to tellmehow to fixhim.”

Dr. Reynolds looks away, and I can tell he’s getting his thoughts in order. “It doesn’t work that way,” he says.

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