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I didn’t wanna drink.
I didn’t wanna do anything except talk to the doctor to get an actual diagnosis regarding my mom, something that didn’t even occur until sometime after ten when he had finished running whatever tests he was running.
Clark – the only member of the staff who doesn’t seem to be afraid to speak to me let alone make eye contact – drove me over to have the meeting outside the building.
It was lackluster.
And it didn’t ease the ache of knowing how close yet how far I was to my possibly dying mother.
Post the conversation, Clark gave me a few moments alone to sit on the bench and cry in my frustration before offering to make me something to eat himself.
I still wasn’t hungry.
I was sad and angry and numb and oddly lost, so I came back to this room.
Got practically naked.
Curled in a ball and watched Star Trek with blurry eyes until I passed out.
Is it how I originally envisioned my night off?
No.
But like most other shit in my life, I learned to fucking deal.
“He would like to know would you like a cup of coffee or tea or maybe some toast?” Some sort of clanking sound occurs in the background. “You’ve missed breakfast, but if you’re hungry now he can-”
“Why didn’t he call to ask?”
“I volunteered.”
“You volunteered or you were voluntold by your puppet master?”
“I work for Wes,” J.T. swiftly defends. “And right now, part of working for him means tending to his gorgeous, grouchy houseguest.”
It’s impossible not to smugly smirk. “You think I’m gorgeous?”
“I – Well see – But-”
“I know I’m gorgeous, it’s fine.”
A small, grunted laugh precedes a much louder sigh. “You want a cup of coffee or not? I’ve gotta get to a conference call meeting in like twenty with Wes.”
Hearing his dickhead boss – my mom’s dickhead boss – mentioned twice gets my spiteful fins moving. “Yeah.” I slowly rise to a sitting position. “That’d be great. Big cup. Lots of sugar.”
“How much sugar?”
“Pour so much sugar in there that you convince yourself it’s too much and then pour a little more.”
He chuckles as if I’m kidding yet wisely doesn’t ask if I am. “Need anything else?”
“Just for you to bring it to me.”
“Excuse me?”
“I want you, Puppet Boy-”
“Please stop calling me that.”
