I sip lazily at my coffee instead of responding.
“Well, since you’re obviously so curious, “ she says scathingly, “they’re invoices.”
Bills, what a shock.
“Overdue balance invoices,” she continues, leafing through the papers. “The water bill, electricity, two for the fences. You didn’t even open them!”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy,” I snap.
It’s not fair to take it out on Jennifer, but she knows exactly how to needle me, and I’ve got plenty on my mind as is. My good mood draining out of me at the reminder of just how shitty things are is just the icing on the goddamn cake.
“You’re always busy,” she sneers back at me.
“Al’s in the fucking hospital.”
That takes the wind right out of her sails. Her annoyance slips immediately into concern, and I cringe. I didn’t mean to use that to attack her with—there was no way for her to know about Al, and now she looks guilty and scared. Al’s practically her uncle, and here I am waving at him being sick in her face like a flag at a bull.
She shoves up from the table, looking half ready to run all the way to the hospital, and it only serves to make me feel worse. I can’t take care of my best friend or have a civil conversation with my daughter without fucking something up. I haven’t even heard from my son in half a decade.
Hell of a man I am.
“He had a heat stroke,” I say before the stricken look on her face can get any worse. “He’s alright. They kept him overnight for observation and told me to come check on him in the morning.”
Jennifer collapses back into her seat, looking drained and defeated. Her fist is clenched on the table, one of the bills crumpled in her hand, and she’s frowning down at the table. I can see tears beading on her lashes, but she wipes them away harshly before they have a chance to fall. Tense silence stretchesbetween us for a long moment before she finally meets my eyes again.
She still looks angry, but she’s more tired than anything.
My heart aches in my chest seeing that look on her face. I’ve seen it etched into the lines of my own eyes for years now, but she’s too young to look like that. A pang of guilt twinges in my chest at the knowledge that it’s my fault she’s old before her time.
I don’t want her to slip into the same apathy that I’ve been living in for so long.
“So why aren’t you checking on him?” she finally asks, sounding exhausted.
I sigh, wishing there was something I could do or say to make her feel better. Normal fathers would hug their daughter and soothe them with promises that things would be fine. I’m pretty sure if I tried that, Jennifer would be more uncomfortable than if I didn’t answer her at all.
“I’m heading out now,” I say, setting my coffee down.
I don’t ask if she wants to come along. She’d invite herself if she wanted to, and we both know that being in a car together for the half hour it takes to get to the hospital would only wind up in a fight.
I’m pretty sure neither of us have the energy for that.
“Let me know how he’s doing,” she says.
“Yeah,” I promise. “I will.”
Silence stretches between us for another long moment, neither of us sure what to say. There are a million things on the tip of my tongue—assurances that I’ll take care of Al, promises that I’ll try harder on the ranch, confessions of everything that’s been going on with Mary. I swallow all of them down in turn.
“Right,” she says. “I’m going to take a nap.”
I nod in agreement as I pass her to grab my keys from the wall hook. I want to say something to calm her worries, butI have no idea where to even start. It’s not like I have any information on Al’s condition that I haven’t already told her, and any more promises of his safety will just ring hollow.
“Get some sleep,” I say instead.
I watch as she disappears down the hall, looking like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders.
All I can do is turn and head out toward the truck. It’s always been both of us, stressed too much to handle anything well and taking it out on each other. Maybe fixing the ranch will help us fix the strain in our relationship.
I can hope, at least.
