Page 32 of Body Check
“I know I am,” I say easily, wondering when the hell my family became a bunch of pessimists. “When I visited over the weekend, Dad couldn’t stop talking about wanting to get back to the shop.”
“Do the docs think he’s ready for that?” Nick asks.
“I haven’t asked them directly, but it’s got to be part of the plan. He’s got a life to get back to, a job.”
“Yeah,” Nick concedes. “But there’s no rush. He needs to take his time and heal, listen to the doctor’s orders, and when he’s really ready, we’ll adjust his schedule so he doesn’t overdo it.”
My hackles rise because Nick’s acting like my dad’s some senile old man. He’s barely fifty-five. There’s no reason to act like the guy’s at death’s door or something. His recovery is taking longer than we thought, but I don’t blame my dad for wanting to dive back in. He’s the head of the service department at Miles Motors, and he’s a hands-on guy. He could probably do that job from a cushy corner office, but he’s just not that type. You’re more likely to find Russ Wagner under the hood of a car than behind a desk. He hasn’t been able to work since the crash, and I know that’s been killing him.
“Good luck with that,” I say. “You know he’s going crazy sitting at home. He wants to be back in action, and I think it will be good for him. It’ll make him feel useful, even if it’s just half days or whatever.”
My cousin is quiet for a second. “It might take longer than you think,” he says, and I can tell by the way he’s hesitating that he wants to say more, but he’s unsure about my reaction.
“I was there when we met with the doctors, Nick. I know it might take longer for him to heal, but even if it takes another month or two for him to break out of this fog, he’s going to do it.” My voice is calm and sure. Nick may have his doubts, but I don’t.
“He thought I was you,” Nick says, his words pouring over me like ice water. “When I stopped by today, he kept calling me by your name.”
“My dad has a concussion, Nick,” I say, maybe a little more aggressively than necessary. “The doc said he’s going to have symptoms for a little while longer. Besides, we are related. People always think we’re brothers, so it’s not that big of a stretch.”
“Not that big of a stretch? Dutton, come on. A father should know his son. A man should recognize his nephew.”
“What, you’re a doctor now?” I ask, letting my temper get the better of me. “You stopped selling cars and now you’re a fuckin neurologist?”
“No, I’m a realist,” Nick says, his voice resigned. “Uncle Russ isn’t acting like himself.”
I’m about to throw this freaking phone across the room. “You know damn well that you don’t just bounce right back after a concussion. My dad’s not acting like himself because his brain is healing. If something else was wrong, don’t you think the docs would have figured it out by now? He’s been poked and prodded for a couple months now. They’ve probably run every test imaginable.”
Silence hangs between us, and that’s probably a good thing. If I keep running my mouth, I could say something I’ll regret. I don’t want to start shit with Nick; I love the guy like a brother. But I need him to call off the damn alarms and just let my dad get better on his own timeline. The accident threw us all for a loop. No one else was on the road, and the conditions were good. It was just one of those freak things, and I, for one, am damn glad he walked away. He hasn’t had it easy, but it could have been a lot worse.
Nick sighs. “Okay, I get it. Look, maybe you’re right, and Uncle Russ was just having a bad day. Honestly, I hope that’s what’s going on.”
“That’s exactly what’s going on,” I insist.
“All right, look, next time you’re in town, we should all grab lunch. I’ll let my dad know, too. It’ll do Uncle Russ good to get out of the house, maybe.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “That sounds good. I know you’re just looking out for him, but he’s gonna bounce back, no doubt.”
“No doubt,” Nick agrees, “Look man, I won’t keep you. You’ve probably got a party to hit up. You gotta live it up before the season starts, right? And your mom mentioned you’re seeing somebody? Maybe we’ll all get to meet her when we come up for a game?”
The thought of Bridgette meeting my family does funny things to my chest. “You guys are going to love her. And you’re gonna wonder what the hell she’s doing with me.”
Nick chuckles as we say our goodbyes. I really am looking forward to introducing Bridgette to my family, but I want her to see my dad the way he really is, so it’s probably for the best that the whole brood isn’t coming to a game for a couple weeks.
There’s some commotion downstairs, and my best guess is that the food has arrived. I really should go down and grab a plate and make some conversation, even if it’s only with Blue or Leo.
But suddenly, I’m fucking exhausted. My days are always long and busy, so I shouldn’t feel like I’ve run a marathon after being awake for twenty-four hours straight, but I do.
Sitting up, I tug my t-shirt off and fling it toward the hamper in the corner. My joggers follow, and so do my socks. I stand and stretch before washing up in the bathroom and crawling into bed.
The guys will hang out at the pool again.
They’ll order more food.
I’ve got a whole year to be social. I don’t have to start tonight. I can start tomorrow. Or next week, even.
It’s not like me to put things off. I like to face problems head-on, but right now my head and my body are begging me to pull up the covers and get some rest.
15
