Feeling a little awkward, I clear my throat.“Did you want a cup of tea?”
It’s a pathetic icebreaker, but it’s the only thing I can think of.Eight years of near silence doesn’t exactly pave the way for easy conversation.We were always busy, that’s what we told ourselves, but the truth is, we both avoided making an effort.I guess he resented that I moved away to live with Mom, and I hated the way every conversation with him left me feeling like I wasn’t enough.
He grunts without looking up.“Sure.Black.No sugar.”
Of course.Still closed off.His eyes stay glued to the paper, like I’m not even standing here.
I turn toward the kitchen, where everything looks exactly the same.Same floral tea towels, same rusty toaster, same chipped fruit bowl on the counter.Grabbing two mugs, I set the kettle to boil and pull down the sad box of generic tea bags he keeps in the cabinet.No vanilla cream for me, only plain old cream.The fridge is practically empty, and there’s no way we’ll survive the week without actual groceries.He must eat at the hospital cafeteria.
When the tea’s ready, I carry the mugs back to the table and slide into the seat beside him.He finally lowers the paper, but doesn’t say anything.Just lifts his mug and takes a slow sip.
I stare around the room, desperate for something to latch onto.The living room beyond looks untouched, with the TV blank and a thin layer of dust on the coffee table.At least we still have one thing in common: neither of us watches much TV.
The silence is brutal.I have to physically stop myself from gulping down the tea just to have an excuse to get up.I remind myself why I’m here, why I have to try.This is temporary, a chance to help get the new ward off the ground while building experience for when I return to the city hospital.It’s a stepping stone, nothing more.
I set the mug down carefully.“I’m looking forward to starting tomorrow.”
Dad hums into his tea.“Me too.Just don’t be late.”
Of course.Not aThat’s greator aGlad you’re here.Just a jab.Same old Dad.
I press my lips together, forcing a small smile.He picks up the paper again, the barrier between us restored.The only sound in the room is the soft rustling as he turns the page.
So, I finish my tea in silence, the sweet taste lingering on my tongue.Taking my mug to the sink, I rinse it out, heart sinking a little heavier in my chest.So much for new beginnings.
Without a word, I retreat to my room, strip out of my travel-worn sweats, and pull on some clean activewear.
Stepping into the hall, my footsteps echo in the silence.I adjust the strap of my leather bag over my shoulder, keys hanging loosely in my hand.
“I'm heading out now,” I call out, forcing a brightness into my voice I don't feel.I just want to escape before the awkwardness can thicken again.
Dad looks up from the kitchen table, lowering his newspaper just enough for me to see the familiar V-shaped pinch between his eyebrows.His brown eyes sweep over my outfit with a slow, critical scan.His jaw tightens, muscle ticking beneath his clean-shaven cheek.
“You're wearingthat?”
I blink, thrown, glancing down at myself… A pair of workout shorts and a matching tank.Pretty standard for leisure, last time I checked.“What’s wrong with this?”
He shakes his head, muttering under his breath, “Nothing.Just thought for a Thomas, you'd know how to dress better.It’s too revealing.”
I swallow the comeback that burns the back of my throat.How exactly does he expect me to dress to shop?
I force another tiny smile.“Anyway,” I say, pushing past it, reaching for the door.“I’ll see you when I get back.”
“What time?”he asks, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
I stop with my hand on the doorknob.“I don't know,” I tell him honestly, shrugging.The truth is, I’m not in a rush to return to this.
“You can’t just come and go whenever you want,” he snaps, like I’m fifteen again and sneaking out past curfew.
I turn back toward him, holding on to my patience with both hands.“What would you like then?”I ask, keeping my voice as even as I can.
He hesitates, then says stiffly, “Just...keep me updated.Let me know where you’ll be.”
I stare at him, my heart sinking a little lower.“Ididtell you.”
He exhales hard through his nose and snaps the newspaper back open between us like a wall.“Very well.I’ll cook dinner.”
I shift my bag higher on my shoulder.“You don’t have to.I can cook when I get back.”
