"So, this is a nice restaurant. I thought we would've gone to somewhere with seafood considering the season."
"Oh, well, Augustus and I had planned to do seafood, but there was a problem with reservations at The Golden Pearl—"
Wait a minute, I just ran into Melissa there the other day. Those tacos were amazing.
"I thought Italian food was a good idea. Don't you eat too much seafood all the time, anyway, Carl? Aren't you tired of it?"
"The same dish can be made as differently as there are people in the world, Mom. There's no such thing as getting tired of it." My reply earned me a soft sigh, and my mom shook her head as I sat down in the only chair unoccupied. Having four people put me directly across from Augustus, and he actively avoided looking at me as I straightened my jacket. "So, how long have you been dating?"
"Oh, well, we're not dating... just casually seeing each other." My mom blushed out of the corner of my eye, but she only spoke up when it was obvious that Augustus wouldn't.
My opinion of him tanked hard, if that was even possible, and I tore my eyes off him with no intention of giving him another thought.
Posh as it seemed, when I asked someone a question, I wanted that person to answer. I expected someone to stand and greet me in a situation like this. Hell, it was common courtesy to shake my damn hand, at least.
Once again, Laurie and I shared a discreet frown when our mom's attention turned to the waitress who materialized between her and I.
Chapter 7
Melissa
Twiddling my thumbs while I waited to be called, I couldn't stop thinking of what Terry had said. Days had passed, and him comparing my asthma attack to my dad actively hitting me with a car consumed my every waking moment. In times like this, I wished I had a job just to get my mind off it, and I debated getting one long before when I'd planned it.
My mom had too much money, some would say, but I could live comfortably and relatively easy. She'd left me twenty-five million dollars, and my dad five million, because she'd not gotten around to changing her will. Staring at a particularly deep crease in the carpet, I frowned and scrunched up my nose.
She'd had an appointment to cut my dad out after they'd fought about his cheating a few too many times. There was a week, maybe, between getting in that accident and getting free of my dad.
"If she hadn't died, but divorced him, it'd be a lot easier not to see him." My voice was overly loud in the quiet, empty waiting room, and I tensed when I felt questioning eyes on me. Blinking hard, I tore my eyes off the carpet to find Carl gazing at me under brows knit with questions. "Oh— I didn't hear you."
"I certainly heard you, Melissa. Is everything alright?"
I stood up hastily, holding my purse under my arm as I nodded curtly.
Gesturing me with a wave of my own file, Carl held open the door for me. My knees wobbled as I ducked a little under his arm, and the fine hairs on my back bristled when his weighty gaze slid down.
But he was quick to catch himself, and Carl cleared his throat roughly before leading me through to an exam room.
"Does this have anything to do with your dad and that asthma attack you had?"
Again, I nodded, and I set my purse on the exam table to hop up and stuff my hands between my legs.
"How did your mother die? If you don't mind my asking? Did she have allergies?"
"Yeah, to my dad's cheating." Scrunching up my nose, I puffed out my lips at how distasteful that sentence was. Carl sat on his little, wheeled stool to hold his file on his lap, and my frown soured. "She had been drinking and driving. She crashed into a building when I was sixteen. She'd come home drunk and got into a huge fight with my dad about him talking on the phone with another woman. The last thing I ever said to her was that I wished she wouldn't start drinking until at least after dinner, you know? But— anyway, yeah."
Trailing off awkwardly, I inhaled deeply through my nose, and Carl's dark eyes met mine. I could see it in him that he understood somehow, but I didn't have the heart to ask him about it.
"My mom's second husband, my sister's father, died of heart failure about eleven years ago, now. It really tore my sister up, since she was only nine years old at the time."
My jaw hit my sternum, but Carl smiled encouragingly, comfortingly, as my throat tightened in horror.
"Does your dad know the severity of your asthma?"
"Um— yes. He wanted to go somewhere 'nice' to give me some 'big news'. The Golden Pearl is one of my favorite restaurants— the waitresses all know me. He insisted on getting a table outside because there was plenty of air and it eased his nerves." I still couldn't understand how my dad thought it was a good idea, even now over a week later. "My allergies were already acting up on the ride over, but I thought we'd be sitting inside, so I didn't take anything for them."
"You seem a lot more disturbed by it now than at the Pearl. Did something else happen this past week?"
My expression must've said it all.
Carl insisted, "Go ahead, Mel. I'm your doctor, and this is important."
"O-okay. Well... my best friend basically said it's the same as if my dad was driving and intentionally hit me with the car. It's really stuck with me."
Carl tensed, his expression freezing at the unexpectedness of my declaration.
I lowered my head into my hands to groan loudly. "I don't know what to do. He's my dad, but Terry's right. He treats me like I'm not his kid— ever since I turned thirteen and graduated middle school, he just... gave up on me."
Misery wobbled in my voice, and I frowned into my palms before threading my fingers through my hair. Inhaling deeply, my breath hitched when a strong, firm hand pressed firmly against my upper back. I hadn't even heard Carl stand up, and warmth radiated from his touch. My heart leaped into my throat as surprise slammed into my diaphragm, and I peeked up at him from under my eyelashes.
Carl's tender gaze flooded with sympathy, and, for a fraction of a second, the room around us disappeared. My heart beat wildly, intensifying the ache behind my eyes as I blinked back my sorrow and cowardice.
"It's not easy to accept how a person affects you, Melissa. Good or bad. If your father is endangering your health, I don't know if there's anything you can tell yourself to make it better— at least, not in the long run." He spoke gently, soothingly.
My throat tightened from the emotions crawling up to stain my tongue. The fine hairs on my cheek and shoulder bristled when I leaned to the side, resting my face on his broad, hard chest. Very hesitantly, he cupped my head, his other hand rubbing my back comfortingly.
And it was comforting. Taking a few breaths as my heart slowed and the ugly feelings emptied from around my lungs, I closed my eyes. Carl pressed his palm against my back a little harder, just over my left lung, as I managed a shuddering exhale.
"This is bad..." My murmur didn't evoke any reaction from him, and Carl swiped his thumb under my ear gingerly.
"This is fine. Emotional stress affects your ability to breathe, too, Mel. Since I won't knowingly subject you to your allergies, this is perfectly fine."