Page 60 of Running Into You
“A medical degree on top of a law one? You all must be so proud.” She winks at mom as she puts her stethoscope on. I like her already. My father says nothing, but follows her instructions as she examines him. She asks him more questions, making notes on her tablet as he answers.
“So, Dr. Bevan, are you going to let me go home today?” he asks hopefully when she’s finished.
“I am not, but I’m very happy with what I’ve seen today. If everything still looks good tomorrow, I will discharge you.” My father looks disappointed but resigned. “Now,” she says, switching gears. “Let’s talk about lifestyle changes.”
“I eat well and exercise,” he says defensively, looking to my mother for support.
“And that’s wonderful. Diet and physical activity are both very important for cardiovascular health. What about work/life balance?”
“What about it?” He grumbles.
“You said yesterday that he works around sixty hours a week?” She’s addressing mom now.
“At least,” Mom confirms.
“I’m right here.” Dad sulks from his bed. It’s obvious he doesn’t appreciate being excluded from the conversation.
“And we want to keep you here,” Dr. Bevan says, laying a gentle hand on his left shin through the blanket. “I want you to remain off work for at least the next five weeks. Longer, if possible. In fact, it would be best if you didn’t start easing yourself back until the new year.”
Everyone in the room holds their breath as we wait for Dad’s response. My father has worked ten-hour days for as long as I remember. He’s always gone to the office at least one day on the weekend. He rarely took vacations and when he did, he was the guy having conference calls while wearing Mickey Mouse ears at Disney World. The idea of him not working for that much of an extended period of time is hard to even picture.
He looks at me, then to Rilla. Finally, he meets my mother’s pleading eyes. Married couples who have been together for as long as my parents have can often communicate with just a look. Right now, the people who raised me are having a complete conversation without speaking a single word while the rest of us watch. Finally, Dad’s eyes wrinkle as he smiles faintly at her.
“The New Year sounds great,” he says, his gaze never leaving moms. Rilla and I breathe synchronized sighs of relief and Dr. Bevan voices her approval.
“I’m glad to hear it, Thomas. We’ll go over the details for an optimal recovery later. For now, all I want you to focus on is getting rest.” She says goodbye and leaves the room, her ponytail bouncing as she goes. My mother leans in and kisses my father on the forehead. He takes her hands in his, her delicate hands disappearing into his large ones.
Rilla sniffs beside me.
“Have you developed allergies recently?” I tease her.
“It’s the hospital air.” She sniffs again, blinking quickly and looking at the ceiling. When I continue to look at her, she punches me hard in the arm.
“Ow. Moooom! Rilla hit me!”
“Tattletale.”
Chapter 35
Betty
The sunbeam patterns on my bedroom wall are the first indication that I’ve slept in. I don’t think I even moved after I fell asleep, and I stretch trying to cover as much of my queen bed as possible. I don’t remember any dreams, or any thoughts for that matter, once my head hit the pillow. The last thing I remember was crawling into bed, emotionally drained and alone.
I walked home after leaving the restaurant yesterday. I needed the fresh air and the time to think. Think about who I am and what I want, now that I’ve finally wrenched myself out of my mother’s shadow. By the time I arrived at our building, I had everything I wanted to say to Josh planned out in my head.
I’m sorry.
I was wrong.
I want to be with you.
I love you.
My chest tightens at the last thought. Is it true? Yes. Does it terrify me? Absolutely.
He wasn’t home. I knocked on his door several times before giving up. It was probably for the best. I had just walked home in the rain, and I resembled a drowned sewer rat. Discouraged and exhausted, I went home. After removing my drenched clothes, I crawled into bed without completing any of my usual nighttime routines.
I sit up in bed and throw off my crumpled duvet. With my eyes still trying to adjust to being open, I scan the room for my phone but don’t see it. I stumble into the living room to continue my search, but not before catching a glimpse of myself in my bedroom mirror.
