Page 77 of A Case of You
Before Lyme, he would have said this was the cushiest, easiest job he’d ever held.
There was no denying what had to happen next. He’d tried and…well, he couldn’t do it. His condition had quickly slid downhill, even though he’d done his best to deny, ignore, and explain away his worsening symptoms.
Brandon and Stuart hadn’t been haranguing him about it, either. Never pestering him, just the usual questions they asked the girls about how their day went.
Never asking him beyond the general how he felt.
And now, he couldn’t even fuckingdrive.
Brandon was working down at the Ft. Myers store today, and wasn’t due home until close to eight o’clock.
Stuart was working at a construction site in North Port.
Emma was in school for another two hours. Ditto Grace, who couldn’t drive, anyway.
Grace’s parents would be at work, as would his own parents and sister and Calvin.
Hating himself, he called the only person he could think of who might possibly be off work, or at least able to get off work easily, and who was close by.
When Tracey answered her cell, it took every ounce of will he had not to start crying. “Hey, Trace.”
“Jeff?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed, trying to choke back his emotions. “I’m sorry to call you like this.”
“What’s wrong? Is Emma okay?”
“Yeah, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s…it’sme. I’m at work. I…” He sucked in a deep breath. “I can’t drive home. I’m sitting here in my damn truck, and I realized I can’t drive. I feel horrible. I’m sorry I’m calling you like this. If you can’t, I understand. But could you, please, come get…”
He dissolved into tears, all while she was trying to calm him down, which somehow made him feel even worse.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’ll come get you, honey. Where are you?” He told her. “I can be there in about twenty minutes.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry.”
“No, hey, it’s all right, sweetie. Let me finish what I’m working on real fast and get clocked out.”
He walked inside to tell his boss he had to leave his truck parked there until later—and that he wouldn’t be in tomorrow.
Possibly not for the rest of the week.
And why.
He could tell from the look on his boss’ face that he was sympathetic to Jeff’s plight, but probably already figuring how long he could wait before advertising the job without looking like an insensitive asshole.
By the time Jeff trudged out to his truck again, Tracey was pulling in. When he climbed into her car, he struggled to even get the seat belt fastened. It took him five tries to make the buckle line up right and he barely had the strength to push it into place to make itclick.
She didn’t try to help him, didn’t take over and do it for him. She patiently waited until he’d fastened it and carefully leaned back in his seat.
“Thank you,” he hoarsely managed.
“Does Bran know?”
“No. He’s in Ft. Myers.”
“Stuart?”
“North Port. I didn’t call them.”
