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“He’s not,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s been a long time.”
“But—”
“Graham, your dad feels horrible for his past choices.” She pokes her chest with an index finger. “I made choices back then I’m not proud of. We’ve worked on them. We continue to work on them.” She takes a big breath, keeping her eyes on me. “I think it’s time you worked on forgiving him.”
Forgiving him. That seems impossible to me. Gloria has told me that holding on to a grudge only hurts me. But how do I let that all go?
“I’m not sure how to do that,” I tell her truthfully.
“You could start by talking to him, instead of avoiding him.”
I think about her words after I hug her goodbye, as I get ready for the evening shift, and as I drive to the hospital.
My shift at the hospital is busy, but also feels like I’m only going through the motions, and I realize why: Lucy. She isn’t here, joking with me, teasing me, making the time pass faster. I saw her this morning when I met her for a quick swim. I haven’t missed a day since the first time I went with her. It’s my new workout, and it’s quickly become something I look forward to every morning. Even if it’s ridiculously early.
After sending a patient home who came in with abdominal pain and nausea which, after running a gamut of testing, turned out to be stress-related gastritis and indigestion, I sit down in my office and pull out my phone.
It rings only once before she answers.
“I’m not on the clock, Doctor,” Lucy says.
Her voice makes me smile, immediately chasing away the wearisome day I’m having.
“Yeah, but I just wanted to let you know that I nailed today’s challenge.”
“Oh, did you?” she asks, her tone mocking. “Well, good luck, because it will take a lot to beat me.”
“What did you do?”
“I spent time with Ryan,” she says.
I snicker. “You think that’s going to win? You hang out with Ryan all the time.”
“Yes, but I haven’t spent time with just Ryan. He’s always with Morgan. And we used to be super close, and we just ... aren’t anymore.”
“How was it?” I ask, genuinely wanting to know.
“It was good,” she says. “We talked about stuff that was a long time coming.”
“Oh?” I ask her, wanting to know more but treading lightly if it’s not something she wants to talk about.
“He’s happy I’m swimming again,” she says.
“I’m sure your whole family is.” This is an assumption on my part, but an easy one to make. The Price family has always had each other’s backs.
“They are,” she says. “But Ryan even more so. He was driving that night, you know.”
“When you got in the accident?”
“Yes,” she says. “It wasn’t his fault. It was the drunk guy driving the other car. But he’s carried a lot of guilt, and I don’t think I knew just how much. He said he can’t help but feel bad he walked away with some minor scratches and I ended up with life-changing injuries. What is that called when you feel bad for being okay?”
“Survivor guilt.”
“That’s the one,” she says. “Anyway, we had a good talk.”
“Damn,” I say.
“What?” she asks through a laugh.
