And that’s why I was now sitting in my car. I’d just needed to get out of there. But I knew I couldn’t go far.
There was a tap at my window and I jumped. I looked over to see Tara standing there.
I motioned for her to come sit inside, and she walked around the car and joined me.
“Mom issues?” she asked. I used to sit in my car a lot in high school when I needed space.
“All these years and nothing has changed.” I nodded to the scrubs she still wore. “Did you just get off?”
“Yes, I saw you leaving but didn’t catch you in time. Doctor Lewis said your mom is struggling mentally?”
“He did?”
She put her hand over her mouth. “He didn’t tell you that?”
“Not in so many words.”
“Shit. I shouldn’t have. Sorry.”
“No, tell me. He thinks it’s all in her head?”
“I mean, obviously notallof it. She was in a serious car accident. But the measurable signs of the concussion are gone, and he thinks what’s lingering has a lot to do with her mental health. Her will to get better. Or not to get better.”
The words hit me in the chest as what they implied sank in. My mom was inside claiming dizziness she probably wasn’t actually experiencing so that what? My dad might finally come running? On one side, it broke my heart. On another, I felt nothing. Like there was a brick wall between us and I didn’t care enough to try to tear it down. Maybe I was the one who had built it in the first place. If I did, it was with the bricks she’d handed me.
“She wants my dad to come,” I said.
“Your dad?” Tara said in a scoffing voice. “If he hasn’t come in fifteen years, why would he come now?”
“Because she actually has a solid, measurable reason to need him this time.”
She nodded, slowly understanding. “Well, shit. That’s really sad.”
“Seriously… but maybe I should call him.” It was one o’clock in the afternoon now. That meant it was nine o’clock at night in London. I didn’t talk to my dad a lot. Maybe once a year when he remembered he had a daughter. But I knew the time difference. And I knew my window was short right now, he’d be in bed soon.
“And tell him to come?”
I’d never asked my dad to come home, not once. I’d never asked him for anything. Maybe it was time. “Yes, actually. If for no other reason than to give them both closure.”
“Good luck with that,” she said.
“Yeah.” I was going to need it. “How are you? Any more cake emergencies?” Was I asking this as a confirmation that it actually happened? Maybe. Did that make me a terrible person? Also maybe.
“Oh, you heard about the cake emergency? So annoying.I think we got it resolved. Michael probably didn’t tell you it was his fault though. He called and canceled the order as a joke, but the baker took him seriously… obviously.”
“That’s awful.”
“Yeah… Your last therapy session is tomorrow, right?”
“Is it?” I had completely forgotten in the drama of the last couple days. Dr. Franklin had had to push our last one to later because she had taken time off, so it felt like forever since we’d been there.
“Do you think there is any hope in the world that this therapist will figure it out tomorrow?”
“Honestly?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
