Page 8 of Taming Grumpy Dr. Beast
I held back a sigh. Gavin didn’t seem to get my subtle and my not-so-subtle responses that I didn’t want to go out with him. He’d asked me out countless times over the past three months, and my answer was always no. I just didn’t see the appeal.
All the girls swooned over him. The girls in our circle of classes thought I was crazy for rejecting him. I’d also overheard those same girls trying to understand his interest in me and my disinterest in him.
Where Gavin’s body was hard, mine was soft. But while he was smart enough to be in the same graduate program as me, I surpassed him in that regard. It wasn’t our difference in intelligence that turned me off. It was his unwillingness to understand how much I loved to learn. He thought it was a frivolous waste of time to continue getting degrees beyond the seven I already had.
Gavin dropped his arms by his sides as a scowl flickered across his face. He quickly hid it behind an insincere smile. His hand reached out to me, but I wasn’t able to lean back far enough to avoid the finger that slowly ran down the side of my arm. If this was part of his seduction, I was immune.
“One day youwillsay yes.” His voice had turned quiet, vaguely threatening.
Taking a step back, I tucked a wisp of brown hair that had fallen free from my low bun behind my ear. “Gavin, I’m flattered, but I really don’t think we’re suited for each other. I’m sure there are plenty of girls who would love to go out with you.”
His smile grew, and internally I groaned. He’d only heard my compliment and not me saying no. “Yes, many girls would love to go out with me.”
I held back from rolling my eyes. Gavin looked like he was preening.
“But you, dear Lily, are the one I want.” He booped me on the nose. I hated when he did that. “Soon you’ll see how right we are together.”
I was sure I wouldn’t. Gavin enjoyed the chase. The only reason he pursued me was because I dared to tell him no.
My smart watch buzzed, reminding me it was time to hurry home. The home health aide was due to leave in the next twenty-five minutes, and I still had to get to my car across campus. Forget any hopes of making the doctor’s appointment. I still needed to call and let them know we weren’t going to make it.
“Sorry, Gavin. I need to run.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t forget my invitation.”
“I won’t be there, Gavin.” I didn’t need to tell him I had to be with my father. If I did, he might assume that was the only reason I rejected him and not because I didn’t want to go.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. You’ll be at the bookstore in the afternoon?”
I grimaced and decided not to answer his question. I pushed past him, hating that he seemed to know my schedule better than me. If I didn’t bump into him on campus, then I was sure to bump into him at the second-hand bookstore where I worked. I took on as many shifts as I could to bring in extra money. Soon I wouldn’t be able to care for my father. I’d need to find a facility capable of managing his condition. Unfortunately, that cost more than we could afford right now.
Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the beautiful surroundings I often admired. The campus was old and well taken care of. Spring flowers adorned the walkways, begging you to stop and admire them. I had a hard time focusing on the simple beauty of the winding path that typically reminded me to stop for a minute and enjoy the little things in life. Even the birds singing in the trees seemed to hate my unusual melancholy.
Sobs burst out of me as tears flowed over my cheeks faster than I could wipe them away. Not being able to care for my father felt like a failure on my part. There were days he was lucid and seemed like his old self and others when he lost time or didn’t know me. Alzheimer’s was a terrible disease to be afflicted with, and it broke my heart each time he realized he had an episode.
Dad needed me to be there for him in ways I struggled to comprehend. Seeing him become something other than the strong man I grew up with tore at me, unsettled me. When he first shared his diagnosis, I read everything I could get my hands on in order to learn about the illness, its progression, and ways to help him through it.
What the books didn’t share is the exhaustion and second guessing that comes along with being his primary caregiver. I never second guessed my decisions before. Except now I’m drained and the stress of everything I juggle combined with the fear of failing him had effectively overwhelmed me. I owed everything I am to him. He deserved the same unwavering devotion from me.
***
AFTER PARKING MY CAR, I stayed in my seat. The tears had ended well before I reached home, but I needed a minute to calm myself. I called the home health aide, Janice, before I left campus, only to be informed Dad was having a tough day.
On his bad days, like today, my emotions could set him off even more. I closed my eyes, drew in deep calming breaths, and let them out on shaky exhales.
This was why I had needed to keep the appointment with the neurologist. I read he had promising results with a new therapy—a therapy my father would only qualify for if he could get in to see the doctor sooner rather than later. Before his condition worsened.
I slammed my hand down on the steering wheel. Trying to block out the sting, I made the call to cancel our appointment. I should have done it before I left school, but an irrational sense of hope made me think we could make it. The blinking numbers on my dashboard taunted me, reminding me there was no way to reach the office in downtown Providence during rush hour in the next five minutes.
The receptionist answered.
“Hi, I’m calling to reschedule my father’s appointment. His name is Morris LeBeau.”
“Are you aware there is a no-show fee of seventy-five dollars for canceling this late?” the receptionist asked, disapproval in every syllable she uttered.
“Yes,” I whispered. Another bill we had to pay.
“The doctor is extremely busy. Rescheduling anytime soon is going to be a challenge.” Her haughty-sounding voice rubbed me the wrong way. I had a crappy day that wasn’t about to get any better. I didn’t need her snark.
