Free Once Bitten, Twice Shy by Jennifer Rardin Page B

I'd give
my
life to preserve.
    I dialed Albert's number, but before I hit the last digit I turned the phone off. He was an hour behind me, so he wouldn't be awake until at least ten my time. I set the alarm for 9:30 and went back to sleep.
    Psyching yourself up to talk to Albert Parks is like preparing for battle, a metaphor he'd probably appreciate since he'd done that a few times himself during his 30-year stint with the Marines. You need to have all your resources in place before you make your big move. That's why, before I called him, I showered, dressed in my comfy clothes (maroon sweats and an extra large black T-shirt) and drank about half a gallon of coffee. Then I gave myself a pep talk.
    "Okay, Jaz," I said as I shuffled my cards for the hundredth time, trying to relax to the
whish
of a perfect bridge, "here's the deal. You will not yell at Albert for at least five minutes." I figured the call would be over in two, but I'm one to hedge my bets when it comes to losing my temper. "You will keep your opinion of him to yourself this time, and you won't mention Mom at all."
    "Okay, I'll try," I told my closet door reflection, "but I'm not making any promises." I nodded to myself, then I called Albert.
    He answered on the fifth ring. Not a good sign. His voice, when he said, "Hello," sounded faint and weak.
    Though he'd gotten himself into this predicament, he would now expect pity.
Ugh
! I grabbed a pillow and threw it across the room. "Hey, Albert," I said, trying to sound pleasant and not overly concerned. "Evie tells me you're not feeling well."
    "She's a meddler, that one, just like your mother."
    I gritted my teeth. I would
not
argue with him over the fact that what
he
saw as meddling,
we
saw as Mom coming home early from work to find him in the sack with her best friend!
    "I heard you fired your nurse."
    "Goddamn busybody. Always wanting to know what I was eating, always poking me with those damn needles."
    My Rage-O-Meter spiked. I could feel the veins in my forehead throb like war drums as my temper began to shred. It's a fragile thing, my temper. Sort of like the pretty colored tissue paper you find lining gift bags. My inner eye watched it disintegrate into little, raggedy edged pieces that floated away to perhaps reassemble themselves in another place and time as my father whined, "She treated me terrible, Jazzy. And now
I feel
terrible."
    "Oh, for Chrissake, Dad, you feel terrible because you're not following your doctor's orders. Evie's going nuts worrying about you, and Dave and I don't have time to come coddle you so you'll quit trying to fucking
Mil
yourself! So here's the deal. We're hiring you another nurse. You will eat what she says. You will take the insulin shots without complaining. And if you fire her, I will personally haul your sorry ass to the Veteran's home and dump you on their doorstep."
    "But—"
    "Furthermore, you will make an appointment with your doctor
today
, and if he has to cut off your goddamn foot
none
of us are going to pity you because you brought it on yourself!"
    "Jasmine Elaine Parks—"
    "Don't you
dare
pull your Dad voice out on me, old man. I know exactly what kind of game you're playing and it doesn't wash. You weren't there when we were growing up. What makes you think your pitiful health is going to make us come to you now?"
    There was a long silence, during which I'm sure Albert was looking longingly at his beer can while I was kicking myself for yelling at a decrepit old war hero. I knew he'd been an awesome Marine. He had a drawer full of medals and an address book full of phone numbers of men who would
still
willingly die for him. He just never should've had children.
    "I'm tired," I said, suddenly feeling even older than his 61 years. "I'm working on a big account and it's got me on edge. Evie's call knocked me over that edge and now you're catching the fallout."
    It wasn't an apology. He didn't deserve one and he knew it.
    "I'll call the doctor this morning," he