[sent 07:37]
Me
I love you, too.
I tried not to dwell on the useless thought that I wished I could have told him in person, and I decided to get up, and get dressed for the day.
I found Dad in the kitchen, and together, we fell into an easy rhythm. We talked as we moved around each other, catching up on the lighter moments of life, like how Becka was getting on at work, what new shops had opened in the village. Light, early-morning conversation that was as easily consumed as breakfast.
Dad called the hospital as soon as he finished eating and asked if he could go in and visit.
“They said not until later,” he grumbled, sitting heavily back down at the table, pushing aside his glass of juice. “They’re confident she’ll be discharged on time, and they’re limiting visitor numbers so there’s not too many people in the ward at the same time.”
“Oh, well, that seems fair enough,” I said evenly, watching the way his jaw flexed. On the surface, I understood the safety measures – there was a brochure taped to the fridge with clear guidelines from the hospital – but it didn’t settle the nervous thrum that vibrated beneath my skin.
He huffed out a sharp breath before grunting in agreement.
While I finished breakfast, I watched as Dad moved around the house in obvious agitation. He put the dishwasher on, despite it still being full with a clean load from last night. Heclattered around doing God-only-knows-what in the cupboard under the stairs. He walked from room-to-room like he was looking for something.
He was like a ghost, searching for his unfinished business, and I watched in bemusement until I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Hey, Pops,” I called out, “can you show me where you keep the weedkiller?”
I knew where it was, but as I’d expected, my dad popped his head round the corner, his face a comical mix between concern, and concentration.
“Why?” He asked, suspiciously.
I shrugged. “Thought I’d help out in the garden.”
I had no desire to do any such thing, but Dad clearly needed a distraction.
“I better help.” He stepped out into the hallway, more focused now that he had a mission. “I don’t want my only daughter endangering the local bee population.”
I rolled my eyes, but turned around to hide my smile.
My plan worked better than expected, and we spent the entire morning doing everything except talking about the subjects that hurt us the most – Mum, and Jihoon. Perhaps this plan had been as much for me as it had for my dad.
We weeded the front driveway, tidied up the flower beds and then, as we’d accidentally stomped mud through the downstairs, we spent most of the early afternoon cleaning the house until it gleamed. We spent hours this way, finding odd jobs to occupy ourselves with until I’d drawn the line at Dad’s suggestion of snaking the drains.
By the time the sun was sinking beyond the horizon, orange light spilling across the newly-cleaned floors through the patio doors, I was exhausted. Finally. It had taken this long for thejet lag and the emotional fallout to catch up with me, but I was finally so bone-weary I could barely stand.
Dad had gone to the hospital to visit Mum, and I sat in the quiet house, feeling the weight of everything settle on my shoulders. It dragged me down, and I allowed myself to slump into the chair as I propped my phone up on the table in front of me.
When he answered, his face filling my screen, I felt some of that weight fall away, and even though my smile was tremulous, it felt like I’d inhaled my first full breath in hours.
“Jagiya,” he said, sounding as relieved as I felt.
“Hey, you,” I sighed happily.
At that moment, everything felt a little easier.
Mum’s surgeon was apparently happy enough with her recovery that she would be able to come home this afternoon, whichnaturally meant spending the first half of the day in nervous motion, while pretending everything was normal.
We were sitting down for a cup of tea – I had kept trying to explain that I didn’t drink tea anymore, but for fear of overriding his auto-pilot, I’d let him make me one anyway – when the phone rang.
Dad practically jumped over the counter to reach for it.
“Hello?” He sounded breathless. “I see. What time? And is she… Okay. Okay. Okay. Alright, I’ll be in then. Okay, thank you. Cheerio.”
