Page 15 of Choosing My Happiness
The nurse followed me out. “You did well in there. You know what you’re doing?” she asked as soon as the door shut.
I chuckled. “I’m pretty confident.” I smiled and walked outside. I needed a moment to get my emotions under control. No one might accept it, but Janie was right. Dad was dying and Mom didn’t care enough to believe it.
9
Chapter 9: Daisy
I left the hospital after visiting hours were done. I was too frustrated to head back to Janie’s family, as wonderful as it was. Instead, I stopped at a reliable diner in town. My small car looked out of place amongst the big pickups and occasional minivan.
I slid into a booth in the corner. I just needed a moment to think.
My Dad was slowly drowning on dry land, and my mother was unaware…or more accurately ignoring all the signs because they didn’t align with her world view of rainbows and sunshine and Dad. Most likely the latter. I ordered a burger and fries, and rested my head on my hands with a sigh.
The most frustrating thing to watch was Mom taking Dad outside for some fresh air, and multiple smokes. He was stillsmoking a pack a day, obviously, and they were clearly not following a treatment plan.
They also blocked my questions about said treatment plan at every moment. Apparently, ‘it’s not as bad as it looks Daisy love. Now tell us how you’re going to reconcile with Blaze. That will fix everything!’ Bull fucking shit! I shouldn’t have come down. I just wanted to know what was going on, and how long he had. I would have to organize more leave. Some tears squeezed through my eyes. I didn’t have much leave even though I’d never taken any.
“Need company?” a vaguely familiar voice asked. I lifted my head.
Jim, also known asMidwife,stood beside the table.
“I was just over there and saw you. Janie mentioned you’d been at the hospital today.” He smiled softly as he spoke. This was different. No one was supposed to speak to another man’s ol’lady without good reason. But right now, I wasn’t going to question it. I already felt better with him standing nearby.
I nodded and indicated the seat on the other side. He slid in.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
I closed my eyes. “No,” I whispered.
“It must be a shock,” he rumbled. I remembered that tone. It had vibrated through me when he comforted me four years ago. Calm, supportive, safe. Exactly what I needed…wanted. I felt myself yearning for his touch. But as far as I knew, I was still a married woman, so off limits, and depending on how Blaze felt about me, I was probably still considered his ol’lady, so doubly off limits. I kept my hands clasped together on top of the table.
“Yes and no,” I answered. “My dad has COPD, Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease. It’s a lung disease where your lungs basically fill up with fluid. He had it when I left…it just wasn’t this bad.”
“Will he recover?”
I toyed with a salt shaker as he asked the question, then responded with a shake of my head. “He’s terminal,” I finally answered. ”And they’re doing everything they can to kill him.” I glanced up at his shocked face.
“Myparents,” I clarified. “They’re doing everything they can to make his condition worse. The smoking, the welding fumes from when he worked, and the smoke from those fires he volunteered at. They all contributed to the initial problem, but he’s still smoking.” I stared at the condiments in the middle of the table and sighed. “Apparently the only cure that they’ll consider is me getting back with Blaze…which is useless and fucking unlikely.”
He reached over and put a warm hand over mine. I gripped a finger that had drifted between mine. We sat in silence for a few minutes.
“What happened with Baby James?” I blurted.
“Who?”
“My baby. I remember him as Baby James.”
Midwife smiled softly and replied, “His ashes are buried in the clubhouse garden, with a plaque. I also planted a tree nearby. Did you want to see?”
No, no I really didn’t. I’d said my goodbyes 4 years ago. I shook my head again.
“I’m not in the right headspace to go into the clubhouse,” I explained.
“It’s okay.” He squeezed my hand. The gesture was so warm and comforting, I was tempted to move seats so I could crawl into his arms like I had four years ago. I sighed and pulled my hand away.
“I need to notfeelright now,” I forced the words out. The emotions were getting overwhelming.
I looked up at his face. Those grey eyes felt like they were looking into my soul. I felt my shell breaking, the professionalbarrier I’d erected to keep people out. To keep my heart from getting trampled on.
