Free Delay of Game by Catherine Gayle Page B

would rescind or shorten this suspension. The rules were as plain as day. Maybe it made these guys feel better to try to change things, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath.
    “So let’s lay out our game plan,” Jim said. He pulled out a legal pad and pen, and we got to work.

    DADDY KEPT TRYING to smile for me, to reassure me, but he was in too much pain for the smile to really come through. I’d only been with him in the ICU for five minutes, but he was already exhausted. He could hardly keep his eyes open. This had all been too much, even just a few minutes of talking with me. He had collapsed back against the pillows despite the bed keeping him somewhat upright, and his hand was loose in mine.
    I supposed that was to be expected—the overwhelming exhaustion—since he’d just undergone triple bypass. The surgeon had assured me while Daddy was in recovery that all was well, despite the fact that it had been a triple bypass and not the double they’d initially hoped he would require. Better to do it now, while we’re already in there ,he’d said to me, as though that could somehow comfort me. I was beyond any reassurance until I saw him.
    “How long will he have to stay?” I asked the nurse who was in the room with us. I had already asked the doctors, but nothing had sunken in. Until I had seen my father and known that he was still alive and breathing, nothing had broken through the fog.
    The nurse was still situating all of the tubes and wires around his bed, making sure the beeping machines were beeping properly, it seemed. “Two more days here in the ICU,” she said. “After that, he’ll be moved to a regular room for the rest of his stay—probably another three to five days after the transfer.”
    Pretty much another week, then, in total. I nodded. A tear slipped free, and Daddy squeezed my hand. Only the way he gripped me wasn’t normal . Usually, when he would squeeze my hand, I could feel all his strength in the touch. His grasp felt weak just now, as if I was the strong one. I didn’t want to be the strong one.
    I doubted I could do it. I could maybe pretend to be for a little while, but it would only be an act.
    He always told me that I was stronger than I thought I was, that I was the one who had helped him get by after my mother left. But that wasn’t really strength. That was coping. That was putting one foot in front of another because there wasn’t a possibility of moving backward.
    He’d always been my strength.
    With my free hand, I brushed the damn tears away, angry with myself that I kept crying so much in the last day or so. I needed to get a fucking grip.
    The nurse finally stopped fiddling with everything and headed toward the door. “If you need anything, Scotty, push that button on your remote that I showed you. Even if you don’t think you need anything, we’ll have someone coming in to check on you every hour, take your vitals.” She gave me a kind but stern look. “Ten more minutes, hon, and then you have to go. He needs his rest.”
    I had to choke back a laugh at the absurdity of her comment. Still, I nodded my agreement. The longer I stayed with him now, the longer he would fight to stay alert. That was the last thing he needed to do right now.
    When I faced Daddy again, he had a bit of a grin creeping over his face. “She’s lost her damn mind if she thinks anyone can rest in this place with all that beeping.”
    At least he hadn’t lost his sense of humor. I bent over him and kissed his forehead, using my fingers to brush his hair back from his eyes. It had grown too long. We needed to take him in to get it cut sometime soon, but that wouldn’t be easy to do for a while. His skin felt clammy to the touch.
    “Are you hot? Cold?” I was already on my feet to adjust the thermostat in his room, or get him another blanket, or—
    “I’m fine.”
    “Liar.”
    “At least we know you come by it honestly.”
    No, he definitely hadn’t lost his sense of humor.
    He