“I think you have two problems here.”
“Problems?”
“There are always problems. Especially when those three are involved.”
I burst out laughing. “And what would these problems be?”
“That you, my dear Casey, have never got over your abandonment issues.”
“No one’s ever abandoned me, Martin.”
“And that he, hon, has never got over leaving you behind.”
I direct my gaze out of the window, but I close my eyes: Martin’s words have lodged themselves into a corner of my heart, and the pain is so strong that I could cry.
* * *
When I getout of Martin’s car and head up the driveway towards the front door, I realise that my dad is waiting outside, sitting on the bench, with his favourite beer in hand. I say hi, sitting myself down next to him. I kick off my shoes and place my feet on the cool grass. Dad hands me the bottle, and I accept, taking a few sips.
“How did it go?”
“Good. I’m going to take the job.”
“And…?”
“Nothing, that’s it.”
“Nothing to tell me about the patient?”
“What do you want me to say? He needs a physiotherapist and I’m available.”
“Why are you being so vague?”
“I’m not.”
“Are you hiding something?”
“Me? No!” I jump to my feet and head for the front door, trying to avoid the conversation. “I’m tired. I have a shift at the hospital tomorrow morning.”
“Casey Madigan!” My father straightens his back, just like he used to when I was a kid and I did something I wasn’t supposed to.
I turn to face him, slowly. “It’s just a family that needs my help.”
Dad crosses his arms and sits, waiting to hear the rest of the story.
“He’s ill. Alzheimer’s. He doesn’t like hospitals, doctors or strangers. So they wanted to find someone who could go to the house. He had an operation on his meniscus and has to have physio, or he won’t be able to regain any of his normal movement.”
“I’m sorry, that can’t be an easy situation.”
“It’s not.”
“Are you up for it?”
“Of course.”
“You don’t have to work so much, you know. We can manage.”
“Please, don’t start.”
