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“Listen, Dad. We expected this, remember? When you were diagnosed with Huntington’s, the doctor told you to expect mood swings and depression. There are treatments that can help with that.”
Dad snorted. “Help? I’m going to lose control of my mind and body and then I’m going to die. What goddamn doctor is going to make that feel better?”
Point taken, but I wasn’t about to admit it. It was like dealing with a wild animal. If I showed fear or weakness, I’d get eaten alive. “Give me your card. I’ll check the benefits, make a list of doctors in network. Tomorrow I’ll start making calls and find you an appointment. All you have to do is show up. Mom will drive you, if you don’t want me there.”
Dad looked away. “You drive. Find something in Asheville.”
“You don’t want something closer?” Asheville was forty minutes away, without traffic. Hart’s Ridge didn’t have anyone who specialized in mental health, but there had to besomeonebetween here and there.
“Nah. It will give your mother a couple hours to herself if she wants to stay behind. If she wants to come, she can go to that bookstore she likes, the one with the funny name. Malcontent?”
“Malaprop’s.”
“Whatever. She could use a break from me.”
Mood swings. My kind, thoughtful dad had returned, however briefly. For a moment he was his old self again, if his old self had been depressed as hell.
It felt like a breakthrough. Dad had said okay. He would let me make the appointment and he’d show up. Progress.
Then I realized I still didn’t have his card.
I checked a sigh and held out my hand. “Insurance card, Dad.”
Predictably, his mood pivoted again. “I don’t need my own son treating me like a damned child,” he snapped. But he pulled out his wallet, removed the card, and practically slammed it into my hand.
“Thanks,” I said, struggling to maintain calm while tucking the card into my pocket for safekeeping.
Dad grunted and spun the old red recliner until he was facing the window. Clearly he considered the conversation over. I stared at the back of his head, fighting a battle inside my own.Don’t push, except when you have to. I had spent the entirety of the flight from Peru to North Carolina reading everything I could find on the psychological effect of Huntington’s, and that was the general advice. Try to keep the peace, understand that the mood swings, the depression and anger, were outside of anyone’s control.
But another part of me shouted,don’t give up!And today, that was the part that won.
“I’m heading back to my place now to take care of some things before I go to Suzie’s for dinner. Do you want me to swing by and pick you up on my way there?” I had to ask, even though I knew the answer. I also knew better than to ask my mom, because she wouldn’t want to leave Dad alone.
“No.”
I waited, but apparently he had nothing more to say.
This time, I didn’t push.
I had a theory that the best thing to do when your heart felt like shit was to make your body feel even shittier. So I did that, hard. Ten miles later, my muscles were fatigued but I felt more upbeat. Runner’s high for the win.
I spent a little extra time in the shower, making sure I smelled nice because I knew Nora would be at Suzie’s house tonight. Sure, I had been only teasing her at brunch with that whole “challenge accepted” thing. Obviously I was attracted to her. I had eyes, after all, and those eyes had paid attention. But even besides her pretty face, there was something about her that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I justlikedher, that was all.
So, yeah. Maybe I wasn’t really teasing at all.
Which explained why, half an hour later, I rang Suzie’s doorbell with anticipation buzzing in my stomach.
Suzie threw open the door. “Michael! You don’t have to knock. Just come in! Here, take her.” She thrust Carly, her two-year-old, into my arms. “I have to check the roast.”
Happy thoughts of Nora fled, replaced by a slap of pain. Becca and Dimitri favored their dad, but Carly looked exactly like Suzie...and just like me. I had seen pictures of her, so it shouldn’t have knocked me down the way it did. I knew she had the West family red hair and brown eyes. But it was different, holding her small body in my arms, looking down at eyes I saw every day in the mirror. It was such ashock.
A reminder of everything I had once hoped for, everything that would have beenmineif life hadn’t been so fucking cruel.
Everything I could never have.
My chest burned like someone had splashed me with a vial of acid.Feel it, accept it, release it. That was how I was supposed to deal with these emotions, according to the therapist I saw during my divorce, but instead I shoved the image aside and looked for a distraction.
Which Nora in her sundress amply provided.
