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“I see, so your father is totally out of the picture?”
“I don’t remember him, if that's what you’re asking. He left us when I was about a year old. They divorced.”
“What kind of a man doesn’t contact his daughter?” Trey asked more to himself than to me, shaking his head in disapproval.
“He did send money, though,” I offered. “About the hospital bill, I have some money in my college trust. There’s almost $50,000 the last time I checked the balance. I can pay my hospital bill out of that. I really don’t want you to feel responsible for picking up the tab on something caused by my own poor judgment.”
“Tylar,” he implored, “I don’t want you to worry about the hospital bill. I'll cover it, do you understand? I won't have you exhaust your college funds when I can well afford to pay it.”
“But I feel responsible,” I interrupted.
He raked both hands through his thick hair; he looked at me with blue eyes blazing. “And just what does that accomplish? So you don’t finish college, then what? You find some nice good ‘ole boy to share his trailer with you? Maybe raise a pack of brats until he moves on to another trailer, stealing your best years?”
That was a low blow. “I didn’t deserve that!” I hissed. “Maybe I wasn’t born into wealth and privilege like you, but I do have some pride and dignity. I don’t need your charity."
I turned my face away from him totally pissed off. He was at the side of my bed in a flash, turning my chin, forcing me to look at him. I hated that he saw a tear roll down my cheek. He brushed his thumb down my right cheek, catching the tear that rolled down it.
“Hey now,” he spoke softly, his anger dissipating, “you're right, I was out of line with what I said, Tylar. I'd no right to say something like that to you. I guess I wanted you to accept what I was offering and was mad when you refused it. I'm used to getting my way on things. I’m sorry, Tylar.”
I wasn't sure why he affected me this way. His apology was sincere. The sob that I'd been holding back finally escaped. A fresh tear rolled down my left check, onto his hands that were gently framing my face, followed by another. He leaned into me, his face now very close to mine. Close enough that I could feel his warm breath near my lips. I closed my eyes, tilting my face up a bit, waiting to feel his lips on mine and wanting to feel them more than I'd ever wanted anything else.
Then nothing happened.
I opened one eye and then the other; he'd moved back from me, his eyes still studying mine with obvious indecision. His hands released my face and he stood up abruptly, his brow furrowed in confusion.
God! Idiot cracker number two!!
I scooted away from him on the bed, smoothing my hair nervously. "Apology accepted; I'm good, Trey."
He handed my cell phone to me, his eyes now searching my face.
“What?” I asked.
“Call your mother, Tylar,” he instructed, “she needs to know what’s going on and I need to know what your plans are so that I can schedule adjustments with the staff.”
I took my phone from him and pulled up my mom’s number. It didn’t ring. There was a three-tone signal followed by a digital recording stating that the number dialed was either out of service or had been disconnected. No further information was available. I snapped the phone shut and let it fall onto my bed.
Trey looked at me expectantly, “Well?”
“It’s either out of service or has been disconnected. You had the right number after all.”
“Is this typical of your mom?” he questioned.
“Nothing is typical about my mom.”
Trey was losing patience with me. His voice had an edge to it. “Tylar,” he implored, “there must be a friend, a neighbor, someone you can call to get word to your mom about your injury.”
“Look,” I snapped, “maybe she hasn’t paid her cell phone bill. It happens. If you think for one minute that my mother wants me back in her house to make sure I recover to your expectations well then you're delusional. She has her own life to live and apparently, that's what she's doing. That phone works both ways you know. It’s not as if she has called me in the last three weeks. If you don’t believe me, check the call log for yourself!”
Trey was momentarily taken aback by my outburst. “What about a job? Does she work somewhere that we can call?”
“She works Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday for Findley, Morris & Sneed. It’s a law firm in Louisville. You can call her but I won’t. Just ask for Maggie.”
He sighed audibly, walking over to the side of the bed where I could see him. He had his suit jacket slung over his shoulder. He lowered himself down on his haunches so that his face was inches from mine once again. Oh God why didn't he kiss me? I knew he'd wanted to and I knew I'd wanted him to more than anything! My body ached for something it didn’t know. Why him?
“Tylar, I'll have someone here tomorrow to take you back to your cottage, okay?”
“Thank you,” I replied, smiling, “Could you please have them bring something for me to wear?”
