Slumberland by Bradley Carter

Author:Bradley Carter [Carter, Bradley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781790579402
Published: 2019-06-15T22:00:00+00:00

bloodshot

13

For the next few days until the pain subsides, I’m restricted to keeping my wrist in a brace.

Doctor Lane said I was lucky nothing was broken.

But added to my bruised wrist bone is my already bruised ego.

With not having to work tomorrow, I haven’t a clue what to do while at home by myself.

Not knowing why someone is upset with me is the worst part. It’s hard to fix something you never knew was wrong. It’s like trying to find a solution when you don’t know the variable.

Solve for X.

Something has to give. There’s only so many times you can pace your home before the carpet wears thin. Some of this guilt has to lift from my shoulders. It makes me nervous thinking Mom and Dad are two more people I care about who are unhappy with me.

Dad’s name in my phone has tiny hearts on both sides.

In his contacts, I’ve seen my number saved as ‘CC’ in between the same emojis.

That’s what pops up on his screen when I call.

“How’s my CC?” he asks.

He sounds peppy, happy to hear from me, and not saddened by the last time we spoke.

I tell him about my injury and the incident at work this morning but most importantly how terrible I feel for kicking my mom and him out of my condo.

“CC,” he says, “you’re just like your father. You know how hardheaded I can be when people try to take care of me. Your mother worries, we both do, but we can celebrate your birthday anytime. She and I are just grateful to have that option.”

“Still, I feel horrible for seeing you so sad.”

“I wasn’t sad,” he says. “My acid reflux and nausea kicked up again.”

Dad would never tell me he’s upset. I should have known he would use his ailment as an excuse.

Still, it’s a relief to hear his voice again. Still, it makes me smile.

"If you and Mom still want to celebrate my belated birthday, I have all the time in the world.”

Dad says it’s a date.

This makes me feel better. Much better.

The kitchen table is still cluttered. Scattered at my feet are the papers with red circles drawn on them.

Kneeling down, I gather them together and tuck them under my arm. I step into my bedroom and toss the stack on my nightstand.

Dad wants to know what I think about my present.

He tells me I should have noticed it by now. He says it’s been sitting on my kitchen counter next to the window. He says I need to pay attention to it, that it’s time sensitive.

On the countertop, next to the sink, sits a potted sunflower. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why I didn’t notice it before. It was being ignored this whole time.

Slightly tucked under the clay pot is an envelope. With my phone held between my ear and shoulder, I pull a card that reads:

‘To our loving CC, our sunflower.’

Dad says he hopes I like it. These days, at twenty-nine, its hard for them to pick something special for me.

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