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“Figures.” Paula was not exactly attentive.
137. 135. 138.The heart monitor jumped with Jed’s temper. “Don’t start.” He jabbed a finger at her. Tubes stretched from his wrists to the IVs behind him like external veins, and Allison had to fend off a shudder.
“Has she come at all?”
Jed grabbed the TV remote and turned up the volume. “She’s called,” he yelled over the noise.
Allison snatched it back and snapped off the TV. She’d never met a man more infantile than the one who’d supplied half her DNA and,considering that most guys acted like five-year-olds on a daily basis, that was saying something. “She should be here.”
When he left them for Paula, Jed should have become her responsibility. But somehow, she seemed to appear only for the good times, especially if they involved Jed’s bank account. Junior year, while Allison and her mom were taking out student loans to pay for Brown, Jed had given Paula’s son, Shawn, the down payment for a house. Granted, Allison had never wanted her father’s money—that would have meant conceding to his way of things—but it was a particular kind of wound to watch him shower someone else with it. Most days, it felt like Jed viewed Shawn as more his child than Allison ever was.
So why was she here instead of them? Her mother’s extreme-sports version of generosity had clearly rubbed off on Allison.
“I’m surprisedyou’rehere,” Jed said. Her father’s blue eyes, the same shape and shade as her own, narrowed at her. “After that fit you pulled in your last email.”
Allison drew in a breath through her nose so sharply it hurt.Fit.The word weaseled its way under her skin. Jed subscribed heavily to the very Victorian notion that all women were, at their core, on the brink of hysteria. Any display of emotion, be it rage or laughter or tears, was evidence of how overly emotional both Allison and her mother were, and, in Jed’s mind, emotion immediately discredited whatever they might be saying, no matter how valid.
Not today, though. Allison was too hungover, too tired, and too… well… happy (thanks to Colin) to participate in her father’s toxic masculinity. And that meant not taking the bait. Because Jed understood Allison’s worldview enough (or at least the strawman version his right-wing media fed him) to use words likefiton purpose to ensure she had one, thereby reconfirming his misogyny. Wasn’t confirmation bias grand?
“You had a heart attack. Of course I’m here.” She said the words as matter-of-factly as she might read a passage aloud during Literary Theory.
“I had heartfailure,” he corrected her.
Allison swallowed a scream of frustration. Sometimes talking to her father was like asking a hamster to run the opposite way on its wheel. “You realize that sounds worse, right?”
“It’s not. My heart was out of rhythm. It’s fine.”
135, 139, 137. Allison pointed at the monitor behind him. “It’s still out of rhythm.”
He waved her off. “It’s better. They’ll shock me later and it will be fine.”
“Mom said you could have had a stroke.”
“Your mother ex—”
“The doctor said it, too.”
“The doctor’s overreacting. She’s like all those others back when that flu was around. Being too careful and turning everyone’s life upside down in the process.” He shook his head, his dark hair shaggy against his ears. His beard had been going gray for ages, but the silvering around his temples was new. Some of the skin on his arms, covered in tattoos from his military days, had gone loose, like he’d lost weight. He looked every bit as sick as he swore he wasn’t.
“It’s your life. Shouldn’t we be careful?”
“Stop. I just want to go home and have a beer and watch the game.”
Allison sighed. “You’re probably not going to be able to have beer anymore—”
Her father threw up a hand. It shook with a palsy she’d never seen before. That couldn’t be good for an electrician. His eyes watched the tremors for a moment as if surprised by them as well. Then he slammed the hand down against his leg. “No.”
“Jed—”
“You’re the last person to talk to me about diet.” He gave her that same look he used to at meals when he handed her a plate. The one that said he found everything about her existence detestable.
Allison had expected at least one comment on her body, but anticipating a blow never made it hurt less. “I’m not the one in the hospital with heart failure—”
“No. If you’re going to insist on sitting here, talk about something else.”
Insist on sitting here.As if she were an imposition. As if her body, which he hated so much, was filling too much space. Allison stared at her father. She could have a hundred mouths and not be capable of screaming enough to release her frustration.
“What doyouwant to talk about?”
