“Can you make your way out?”
“Yes, Dad.”
I slowly walked behind him and I heard the plates slide onto the glass topped patio table and found my chair. “Do you need anything else?”
“No, I’m good.” I heard him sit down. I reached out, my fingertips touching the sandwich. “What are your plans for the day?” I asked casually.
“Not much at all. I was thinking we could go for a walk later.”
“I’m not up for walking,” I told him.
“How about a swim?”
I thought about my foot. Technically I had fulfilled the seven-day restriction on getting it wet. “We’ll see,” I said, not committing to anything.
“We can go to the beach,” he suggested. “Get some sun.”
I took a bite of the sandwich. Something was up. “Dad why are you trying to distract me? What’s really going on?”
“Nothing,” he said, and I knew immediately he was lying.
“Where’s Luke?” I asked, my blood running cold.
There wasn’t an immediate answer. Every second he hesitated to answer me was confirmation something wasn’t right. He was holding back. “Dad?” I pressed him.
I heard him sigh and pictured him wiping his mouth with the napkin he always kept in his lap when he was eating. He had impeccable manners and didn’t seem to know how to turn them off. “Luke is taking some time off.”
I almost choked on the bread that felt way too dry in my mouth. “What does that mean?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“It means he is taking some time off. He worked hard this last week. I don’t think it’s too much to ask.”
“He quit, didn’t he?” I said.
“No, he did not quit.”
I put the sandwich down and pushed away the plate. I was no longer hungry. I was sick. Absolutely sick to my stomach. My dreams were premonitions. He was always destined to leave me. I knew he was pulling away. He said he wanted to keep things professional. That had been a bullshit excuse. He didn’t want to be with me.
“I think I’m going to lay down,” I murmured, fighting back the tears.
“Bree, sit. We need to talk.”
I knew that tone. If I didn’t stay put, he would follow me. It was yet another thing in the long list of things I hated about living at home. He thought he was the boss of me. I supposed he was the boss of me given my current condition, but I couldn’t live like this. I had to get out.
“What? What is there to talk about?”
“Do you remember telling me you wanted the surgery?” he asked.
“Yes, Dad. Of course, I remember. I’m not braindead.”
“This surgery is going to change your life,” he said. “You won’t need Luke. You won’t need anyone. You will have your independence and freedom back. I’m going to have to chase you down to see you, just like it was before.”
“And if it doesn’t work?” I snapped. “What if she refuses to do it at all?”
“Bree, she only postponed it until you get yourself over this. You and I both know this insomnia will wear you down. You are not ready to go through the surgery and what she has told us could be a difficult recovery.”
I nodded. Yesterday, I told him about my decision to get the surgery. He immediately called Ellis to set up a time, ignoring the fact it was a weekend. That was how my dad operated. When he wanted something, he went after and ignored all basic rules of social conduct. Ellis had asked some questions and when it was revealed my insomnia was back and I was sinking fast, she postponed. It only added to my despair.
“I knew it was wrong. I knew I shouldn’t get my hopes up. She changed her mind. She’s only using my lack of sleep as an excuse. She doesn’t want to do it. She probably looked at my chart again and realized it was a lost cause. This is the rest of my life. It isn’t going to get better. I’m going to that blind school I told you about.”