“I don’t have the energy, love. Think I’ll give it a miss.” He lies back in his chair and rests his hands on his stomach.
I stand in front of the television and block his view. “Your physiotherapist suggested it. Take it slow. Only do half of the class, but I think you should start tonight.”
He gives me a pointed look. “Why do you want me to go so desperately? I’m happy how I am. A bit of exercise in water isn’t going to change anything for me.”
“It will improve your health.”
“Rubbish.”
“Dad, please. If the doctors tell you to do something, you should do it. I don’t want to risk anything happening.”
“It won’t, especially now you’ve cut back my beers.”
“What if—”
“No. No what-ifs. I don’t live that way. And you shouldn’t either. I’m doing what makes me happy. No what-ifs about the past. Now stop worrying about me and move aside please, love.”
Sliding into the lounge chair opposite him, I can’t imagine not worrying about my father. I can’t imagine what I’d do if something were to happen, and I lost him—the only person I truly care about. We’re a team, and I have to help him. It’s all I’ve known since I was fifteen, just us two supporting each other so both didn’t fall.
The day will come when one of us tumbles, and the question is, will the other be able to pick up the shattered pieces?
Chapter Ten
MACY
If you’re keen on the road trip we mentioned, we could meet at the airport, grab the rental car, and hit the road! I’ll message you next week and see what you think.
It’s an Instagram message from Chance.
Thanks, but I now have to work. Enjoy!
When they asked me, it sounded wonderful. New friends. New places.
Deep down, I’m not as brave as I portrayed. Since I haven’t heard from Reef, I’m uptight, my walls are up, and a road trip would leave me unable to breathe. I’d want to jump out of the car. Did I really want strangers to witness my cracks?
Right now, I’m glad for the excuse to be working.
I recheck my phone hoping for a message from Reef.
After making Dad a fruit salad for breakfast, I convince him to try an aquatic class, for me.
“If it means getting you off my back, all right then.”
“Really?” I jump up from the kitchen table.
“Yes, though I have no idea where my boardies are?”
“I’ll find them,” I tell him knowing the extra material in the long board-shorts will provide some confidence.
I sing along to the radio as we drive to the pool. I walk beside Dad until he gets to the edge. A therapist meets us and helps him into the water. I watch from a seat deciding not to swim lengths during his first class. Like a parent, I’m proud watching my father get through the class. He even smiles and chats with the other men. And one woman. My heart cracks a little wishing Dad could find love and happiness with another. No matter how many times he reiterates ‘it’s him and me against the world’, he hopes one day I’ll have the confidence to find someone I care about even though I struggle to foresee it in the next ten years. It’s a constant fear in my heart of him being left alone. I can’t do it to him, not after all he’s done for me.
I open Instagram.
Search for Reef Burton.
Read the last message I sent him, then type another.
Are you ghosting me because I said I was missing you?
To clarify, I then type out a message.
I miss your cocky notes on the back of the menus.
I hit send hoping it tones down any neediness.
Dad cheers, and his laughter snares my attention. I smile, watching him share a joke with the therapist. One session, and he’s laughing. I can only imagine him in his heyday flirting with all the girls.
“You seemed to enjoy the session,” I say to Dad on the way home in the car.
“I did. I was chatting with a lady who had her leg crushed in an accident. She almost lost her leg and has had extensive treatment and rehab just to walk. All these years later she still goes to the pool because she said it’s the best therapy.”
“See,” I say in an upbeat voice. I knew there’d be someone Dad could relate with. “Hydrotherapy is going to be good for you. The next time I’ll swim laps while you’re in the pool.”
By the time we reach home, I’m also smiling after reading an Instagram message from Reef.
Your poetry sucks.
I tell Dad I’ll organise some lunch for us when he showers. While chopping salads, I reply to Reef.
Sucks? Why?
For once I get brave and you deflate me.
I chop the carrot, and my screen brightens.
Suck and deflate are two words killing me atm
Sexual innuendo. I smile. The game ball is finally in my hands.
My poetry sucks. You know it’s not the only thing I sucked. Sucking is something I do well. You should see me suck spaghetti. I could come over and cook it for you sometime…
I manage to finish chopping the cucumber before my screen lights up again.
If you were here, the last thing you’d be doing is cooking… I think you’re the one who said we have unfinished business.
I toss the salad in a bowl.
You want me to finish you?
Shit, I’m getting horny by teasing him.
Thanks to you I have a hard-on. The first one since my surfboard tried to slice off my cock. No groin pain because I’m not moving. The reassurance it’s working fine is a bonus.
Did he think he couldn’t?
I could test it further?
I jump when Dad flops onto the chair with a thud. “Sorry, love. I’m a bit shaky. The pool took it out of me.”
“You should have called out. I can walk beside you when you’re not feeling strong.”
“It shows how unfit I am. You’re right. It is good for me.”
I smile at him like a mother to a child with I-told-you-so pointed look. “I’ll grab some cold meat, and we can have some rolls.” My phone lights up on the table, and I snare it before Dad can read the message.
Saturday night. I’ll be here alone.
Taking Dad back for his second aquatics session helped brighten my mood and not overthink the upcoming date with Reef.
A date. Is it?
During my break on Friday, I message Georgia and ask her to meet me at work for a Friday night drink. Georgia loves hanging at Lombardi’s, and as much as I also enjoy it, socialising at my place of work still feels a bit like I’m at work.
Right before knock-off time, she waltzes through the doors, heads turning at her figure-hugging red mini dress, her long, blonde ponytail swinging in rhythm with every click of her pointy-heeled stilettos. Lips, dress, long nails, and high heels the colour of blood, she always knew how to make an entrance.