“Then it’s our clusterfuck.”
She slumps into the pillows because she can’t tumble into my arms and offloads about her dad and his past and how she kept visiting her grandmother’s one-time home from me.
And as I look at her, as I listen to her, as I absorb what she has to say, I make her a silent promise. No churches needed. No priests or witnesses, either.
In sickness and in health.
Unlike my dad.
Until death do us part.
Unlike hers.
FIFTY-EIGHT
FUTURE FIXED!
Hissing in pain,I settle back in the hospital bed.
I’ve been on the brink of tears for most of the day, ever since I was a dumbass and slipped down a couple of stairs at my university. One second, I was talking to a bunch of kids I’d gotten friendly with, and the next, I was flying.
Until I wasn’t.
One broken patella later, I’ve been waiting for Mom to arrive all day.
When the nurse brings me some pain meds, I try to focus on the TV in my room, but it’s hard. They’re kinda mean here with the whole pain management situation?—
“BABY!”
I sag into the bed at Mom’s shriek and hold out my hands for her. “Mom,” I warble, relieved she’s here, relieved that I don’t have to be an adult, relieved— “Dad?!” I expected Mom. Hell, I only called her. “What are you doing here?”
He scowls at me as he strides in, already clicking his fingers at staff and making the nurses glare at him. “You’re my daughter, Denver. Where else would I be?”
Excuse me while I blink.
That only annoys him all the more.
“Where are your doctors?”
“Doing what doctors do?”
His eyes narrow upon me as they scan me up and down. Then, he storms off.
“Why’s he here?” I demand.
“I called him, of course. He speaks Spanish and I don’t, silly,” Mom chides, fussing with my blankets and handing me water I didn’t ask for.
I accept it and sip at it even though I’m not thirsty. “Yeah but… a call is one thing. A transatlantic flight is another.” Especially after our last conversation. “What about the baby?”
“Frankenstein isn’t due for another ten days.”
“Surprised you know that.”
“I—”
Before she can finish, Dad’s back with the doctor as well as the surgeon who’s going to be operating on my leg early tomorrow morning. From what I can make out, they’re arguing, and Mom tsks.
Mostly, I’m glad. Dad’s not happy about them making me wait for surgery, and because I totally want this over, I don’t hate that he’s throwing his weight around.
