Page 19 of Hard Rock Heat
He shrugged noncommittally. I took that as a no. I'd have to add laundry to thelist.
"Mikey broke his leg," my dad said out ofnowhere.
"Mikey?" Iasked.
"The kid who mows thegrass."
That explained the state of the front lawn. It was the one chore I could afford to delegate. Pay a kid ten bucks a week and he was more than happy to do yardwork.
"I'll call his mom and see if one of his friends might want the job," I toldhim.
My dad nodded inagreement.
We ate the rest of the meal mostly insilence.
When my dad finished, he put down his knife and fork. He stared at the empty plate, avoiding myeyes.
I reached out and took hishand.
"How are you doing, Dad?" I asked again. "Really, I want to make sure you'reokay."
He looked up. He slowly pulled his hand away. "I told you. I'm doingfine."
A familiar stab of pain shot through mychest.
"I'm glad to hear it," I managed tosay.
I took our plates and put them in the sink, turning my back on him. I normally would have done a bit of cleaning up, but I couldn't make myself stay anylonger.
I showed my dad the rest of the food in the fridge for the next fewdays.
"Maybe some time soon we can go out for dinner with Hope and her boyfriend," I said. "So you can finally meethim."
"Maybe. I'll think about it." His eyes slid back to the living room, where the television stillblared.
"Okay. Well. I have to get going now." Tears stung the back of my eyes. "I'll see you again nextweek."
He wandered back to his armchair without anotherword.
I left and locked the door behind me. I got into my car. I gripped the steering wheeltight.
Deep breath in. Andout.
I pulled out of the driveway and made my way backhome.
I ignored the salty-wet tears falling down mycheeks.
Chapter Six
Awomanin a white wedding dress marched up to another, similarly dressed, bride. The first ripped the veil from the second's carefully coiffed hair. Their two respective grooms were in each other's faces, yelling and pushing. The show host tried to intervene, but it was a half-hearted attempt. He knew what made for goodratings.
I was in my pajamas, on the sofa, with a bowl of popcorn in my lap. Trash TV never failed to distract me from my problems. Watching other people deal with life's foibles reminded I could have it much worse. Or, in the case of those millionaires shows, much better. Either way, it made me reevaluate my life andpriorities.
I didn't know why this week's visit to my dad's bothered me so much. He hadn't acted any differently than during all my other visits over the years. He'd always been a workaholic, but after Mom died in an accident, he'd gone overboard, trying to distract himself from the pain of her loss. I took after my father in thatrespect.
Some small part of me had wondered if he wouldn't get better once Hope and I moved out on our own. Without us there, without having to stare into our faces and be reminded every day of the woman he'd lost, I had thought maybe he would improve. Maybe he'd be able to moveon.
If anything, it had gotten worse. When the stress finally got to him, the doctor put him on indefinite medical leave. Something about his heart. With no work to distract himself with, he'd slowly withered away, becoming a shell of the man he once was. With his condition, I always worried something would happen. If he didn't take care of himself, if he didn't look out for hishealth…
