Page 6 of Tough Love
“Sure.”
“Do you have any now?” He picks up a stray pen and starts wiggling it between his fingers at breakneck speed.
“I don’t think so.”
“How long we expect to have her in Acute Care?” The pen slips from his erratic hold. “What the long-term prognosis is?” He retrieves it and slams it down on the desk beneath his palm. “If you can see her?”
Floor, swallow me now.“We aren’t close,” I whimper pathetically.
“Clearly.”
His scathing, judgemental attitude irks me the longer he stares me down like I’m a petulant student. “In response to your earlier statement, yes, I am finding this hard. But no, not for the usual reasons,” I snap. “And I’d appreciate if you could reserve your judgement for a moreappropriatetime.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain,” he states, suddenly calm. “I’ve seen this before: siblings who don’t get along, estranged parents and children, separated couples.” He sighs, reclining in his seat and crossing one ankle to the opposite knee. “But one thing reigns true in each and every situation.”
“And what would that be?”
“Everybody cares deep down, and they all end up with regrets if they let differences stand in the way.” He eyes me, lips pressed in a thin line as he pushes out of the seat to stand. “Come on. I’ll take you to see her.”
Heat washes over me as my muscles go rigid. “I’d rather not.”
“Why?” He crosses his arms, looking down his nose at me.
“What can I do?” I say, tossing my hands in my lap with a bitter snort. “She’s out cold, right? She can’t talk, she can’t hear me, and she doesn’t know if I’m there or not.” Finding the stray thread on my jeans again, I roll the blue cotton between my forefinger and thumb. “My parents are on their way. They’ll visit when they get in.”
“Regardless of your situation, we often find patients respond well to the presence of a familiar voice—unconscious or not.”
“I have to take care of her son.”
He heaves a sigh, shaking his head as he moves for the door.
“What?” I snap, having had enough of his mightier-than-thou attitude. Who’s he to judge our situation?
“Nothing, Ms Harris.”
“There was clearly something.” I stand, purposefully moving past him so that it appearsIwas the one who wanted to leave this inane conversation first. “If you’re going to lecture me on relationships, then the least you can do is be honest with me.”
“It was your wording,” he says simply, holding the door open for me. “Run the sentence back through your mind and think it over. Katherine isn’t going anywhere in a hurry; she’ll be here when you’re ready to see her.”
I edge away from him into the corridor, one hand resting on the coat that’s slung over my arm. “Thank you for the information, Dr Jessup.”
He eyes me as I step away, hurrying back to the waiting area where I last saw Evan and Briar. His assumptions burn at my back as I push through a set of double doors to re-enter the safe, baby blue zone.“Run the sentence through your head.”I recall the conversation, replaying my sentence on a loop. “I have to take care of her son.”What the hell was he on about?“I have to take care of her son.”Is that not the truth? Do I not have the responsibility of caring for a nephew I never knew I had?Nephew.That’s it. That’s what he picked up on.
I said Ihadto take care ofher son.Not “I should check on my nephew,” or, “My nephew needs me right now.” Nope. I made Briar’s care sound like a chore, like something I resent.
Do I? Am I that cold-hearted that I actually resent the fact I have to spend time with a blood relative?
“Hey,” Evan greets with a jerk of his chin.
He’s seated in one of the multicoloured armchairs, a takeaway coffee in hand as Briar leafs through a slightly torn comic book a small distance away.
“Hi.” I force a smile. “Thank you for taking care of him. They had an update for me.” I thumb over my shoulder at the direction I’ve come from.
“How is she?”
“Okay for now, I think.”
He frowns a little and brings the cup to his lips—his full, pale-pink-coloured lips.Focus, Mimi.“Youthink?”