Too Good to Be True? by Chris T. Kat

Author:Chris T. Kat [Kat, Chris T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781623803728
Google: X_UuTCRuHx4C
Amazon: B00BM673CE
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2013-02-25T11:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

A few days later—TuesdayTHEnext few days went by uneventfully. Emma took me to Dr. Martin, who was greatly displeased at finding out about my seizures a few months ago as well as the new ones. He was even more displeased at how often I had forgotten to take my meds, and also about me not making sure to eliminate stress factors. There was also an awkward talk about my driver’s license, which, after some squirming and sweating on my part, I confessed to not having revoked immediately after my first seizure.

While we were with Dr. Martin, which included taking blood samples and a lot of prodding around and also scheduling another appointment in two weeks, Emma rubbed her belly constantly. She was curt with me for the rest of the day, and I tried to placate her by doing whatever she told me to do. Fortunately for me, it worked.

I tried the same approach with Dale, and astonishingly that worked impressively well too. It was a miracle I could keep it up—doing what he told me to do, I mean, because he flat-out forbade me to work more than a few hours at the clinic. He allowed me to work there in the mornings but refused to take me back with him in the afternoon.

Instead, I worked on the translations, which I had gotten behind on. Or at least, I tried working on them. One member of my family was always there to look after me. Mostly, that someone was my dad, and I didn’t dare fight him when he decided after two hours that I had to stop. I didn’t fare much better with Dale around in the evenings or on the weekend.

I tried; I really tried to understand where they were coming from. They only wanted me to get better, find my way back to a more regular pattern, to prevent me from suffering any more seizures.

I got it. Yet, after a few days of being supervised, told what to do, and chewed out on several occasions, I was clinging to the last, thin thread of my patience.

IT WAS lunch hour, and we had just finished washing our plates, when I heaved a heavy sigh. I had plans for this afternoon, like finally getting a move on one of the translations, which was due in about a week, but Dale hovered in the kitchen with no obvious sign of leaving any time soon.

“What’s up? Shouldn’t you be happy that we all think you’re doing good enough to spend the afternoon without a babysitter for the first time in a week?” Dale asked.

I sneered at him. “Babysitters, huh? Gee, thanks, Dale, that was exactly what I wanted to hear. Do you have any idea how annoying it is when there’s always someone here? A guy’s gotta have some alone time too!”

“You want to be alone to get going with your translations. If no one was here, you could work for at least five hours straight. I take it that’s what you’re going to do anyway.

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