Page 78 of Reconciling With the Rival

“It still sounds like a surgery, Lorraine.”

“Well, it is,” the doctor says. “But compared to most of the other options you’ve explored, it not only has a higher rate of survival, it has better longevity. Which means at this point, you would only have to do it once, and you would be set for the rest of your life.”

“No,” is all my father says.

I look at my sister, who seems calm. We both figured this would happen, but I know both of our stomachs just dropped. I don't know why I thought he wouldn’t need our persuading to say yes to this. I guess I had a little too much hope.

I guess that’s why hope is such a dangerous emotion. When you have it and it doesn't work out, it punches you in the gut.

“Dad, why not go home with all the information and think about it?” my sister offers, shrugging her shoulders.

“Darling, I don’t want to think about it.” I hear some shuffling across the line. “I’ve heard enough. Thank you, but no.”

“Dad, come on.”

“Son, don’t. I’ve made my decision, and you need to accept I won’t have another surgery. One was plenty.”

“But it wasn't—”

He cuts me off. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” And then, the line goes dead.

“Well, that went about how I expected it to,” Alissa says as she finishes her meal. “Just give Mum a few days to talk to him about it. If anyone can get him to come around, it’s her.”

Suddenly, my food feels like rubber, and I swear, I can feel my heart practically beating out of my chest. My father is going to die without this surgery, and yet he still refuses to do it. Nothing any of us do or say can make him reconsider, so the next time he has a heart attack, he’s probably going to die.

It could happen any time, any minute, any fucking day.

“Fuck this,” I say as I get up, throw some bills down, and walk out. My sister doesn't even bother to stop me as I leave her at the table.

I get in my car and speed to the office, pissed off and angry my dad could be so reckless with his life.

I need todosomething. I need a cigarette or a woman in my bed to get out all the weird fucking emotions swirling around in my head. If only I wasn't so broken, maybe I could remember how to flirt or pick up a woman somewhere.

But then an idea forms in my mind, and before I’m smart enough to push it away, it grows legs and sticks inside my brain. It won’t leave, and by the time I pull into work and head up, I know for sure I’m about to do this. I might get kicked in theballs for even proposing it, but even that would feel better than remembering my dad is about to die.

I head off the lift, greeting the receptionist like I always do, and as I pass through the office, I don’t stop for anyone.

I’ve only got one person here on my mind.

And when I turn into her office and her eyes meet mine at the sudden interruption, I set my bag down, sit in her chair, and lean forward on her desk.

“Can I help you?”

“Actually, I think we can help one another.” I smile at her.

She tilts her head at me. “How is that possible?”

I turn around and make sure I closed her door. “With a sex pact.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Imust have misheard him. There’s no way he actually said the words I think he did out loud, in our office.

“A sex pact,” he repeats.

“Are you trying to get fired? Your psychotic break is sounding a lot like an HR nightmare.”

“As long as nobody finds out, and it’s not like we’re in a relationship. We wouldn’t be. We would just be two people having sex for a certain amount of time.”

I stare at him in disbelief. “You came to me with this proposition because?”

---