Page 67 of Puck You Very Much

Her father sighed heavily and pursed his lips. “Not you too, Lucy. It’s bad enough that Maddie calls me every two hours about it.”

“Drinking water is important, Dad. Eating too. Also showering, come to think of it. She has to call because…you forget to do that sometimes.”

“I’m not demented, Lucy!” he exclaimed. “My mental state is fine.”

“I know, Dad,” she replied softly, “but even if you’re not demented, sometimes you forget to…take care of yourself.”

Her father made a sound that was somewhere between a disapproving snort and an angry growl. “You girls and your worries. I’m taking care of myself. And you should treat my daughter better,” he added, pointing at Dax. “I’ve heard your name far too many times.”

The corners of Lucy’s mouth twitched and something warm spread through her chest. It was nice that a small part of her father still cared about her, that he wasn’t thinking exclusively about her dead mother.

“He’s right,” she muttered to Dax as they followed her father into the house. “You should treat me better.”

“I gave you the orgasm of your life, Lucy. What more do you want?” he replied, pretending to be offended.

Her cheeks blazed. “That’s not arrogant at all.”

“Are you disagreeing?”

She refrained from answering, and instead crossed the hall…only to stop dead in her tracks.

The kitchen looked like a bomb had gone off, as if a horde of unsupervised kindergarten children had been baking and invited a herd of wild buffalo to help. Wild buffalo with no manners.

The dishes were piled high in the sink. Open cereal boxes and pizza boxes were on the kitchen table. A bunch of mushy black bananas and a container of moldy raspberries rested in a fruit bowl. The garbage was overflowing and flies covered the counters. Shocked, Lucy stared at the mess and then at her father. At least now she had confirmation that her father was eating something, even if that wasn’t much of a consolation.

“Dad! What the hell happened here?”

“Um, Maddie hasn’t been here for a few days,” he said, embarrassed, scratching the back of his neck.

Good heavens, what the hell all was her sister doing around the house? Why hadn’t she told Lucy about it?

“It’s your kitchen. It’s not Maddie's job to keep it clean for you.”

“I don’t have the time.”

“Dad, you were just lying out in the garden for four hours!”

“Lucy,” her father replied calmly, leaving her perplexed, “it’s not that bad.”

“Yes, it is that bad!” she protested loudly. “Because you obviously can’t take care of yourself anymore! When was the last time you did the dishes, Dad? Took a shower? When was the last time you saw anyone other than me or Maddie?”

Her father sighed and waved his hand. “I live my life at my own pace. I’m fine.”

“Only because we’re propping you up!” she snapped, unable to control herself. It was too much. “God, Dad.” She rubbed her face with both hands. “Have you at least made another appointment with Dr. Felber?”

Her father’s expression darkened. “I didn’t miss the appointment by accident, Lucy.”

She took a deep breath. “Dad… He’s supposed to help you deal with the grief.”

“I’m dealing with it in my own way.”

“No! You’re not dealing with anything. You’re wallowing in self-pity, putting Mom on a shining pedestal, and forgetting to live your life!”

“Lucy, you don’t know how I feel.”

No, but she knew how she felt. “Please, Dad,” she said gently. “Just try it once. Dr. Felber is a good psychologist…”

“Psychologists!” He snorted. “Lucy, that new-fangled stuff isn’t for me.”

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