Page 28 of Until Landon
Moving to the said location I spot the puddle and work to clean it up. I check Biscuit’s paws. Dad’s interest returns to Kim who has taken a seat next to him.
“Hello, sweet girl. Welcome back to your favorite asylum.”
“Any place that has a library and bar all in one is alright with me.”
He mustered up a half-hearted grin and an acceptable tone. They do not escape my notice.
“Now why can’t you talk to me with that calm voice?” It is rhetorical, but he answers.
“Because you’re acting like I’m a child. That’s fucking why.”
“How are you really doing?” Kim says, ignoring our side conversation.
“I’ll be fine. I hate relying on everyone though.”
“That isn’t entirely true,” I say, already worn out from the day.
They both pretend not to hear my statement of fact.
“I have been worried about you, Ronnie. I know what a broken bone is about. But to add a heart attack and sprained ankle must have been horrible.”
“Thank you. Landon told me about your accident. You know. It’s no fun.”
“None at all.”
“I’ll be back to my old self eventually. I hate everything right now.”
“You know that’s a side effect of a heart attack? Many people feel a helplessness or have a change in personality. It’s just temporary.”
“Really?” I ask.
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”
Kim adds her encouragement.
“Of course you will. Just be patient with your progress and listen to the physical therapist. That’s important.”
“I’ll try,” he mumbles. Then loud and clear, “But they better know how to talk to me! Otherwise I’ll just do the exercises myself.”
“See. He’s trying to get out of it before it’s started.”
“No I’m not! Quit exaggerating, Landon. Jesus Christ!”
“Let me get the enchiladas heated. I was so excited to see Ronnie and the B Boys, I forgot about our feast!”
“I forgive you excluding me from the list. I’m not insulted at all.”
Raising her eyebrows, Kim addresses my veiled complaint.
“I’m sorry! You were on theotherlist.”
“Which one is that?” I say, hoping for something playful.
For the first time in twenty-four hours, Dad is quietly listening.
“It’s a secret.” She says it in soft tones, with a finger raised to her luscious lips.
I respond with narrowed eyes and a lift of my chin. Trying to decipher just how meaningful the secret list must be and hoping my name might be the only one written there.
