I'm Just Curious Too: Reconciliation

Chapter 5

The ceiling creaked in the slight breeze that eased the heat off the roof. The day had begun to darken and all I wanted to do was lay under covers and sleep until morning. To my misfortune, I had to carry home a lump of files and set up temporary office on the desk in the corner of my room, laying the files on my bed in five different piles for quick access. We were two days away from the final roll over of records in to the new month and obviously a couple of hitches had popped up near deadline. I had been given numerous merits for the fact that I can problem resolve faster than my colleagues so it was no surprise that I landed up with the trouble despite the pressure of other things on my plate. I grabbed a file and took a seat - my laptop ready with an open spreadsheet.

It took me a minute to register the faint call of my name. I had blinked out of figures and in to my space to realize that the call wasn't faint but a shout that could only come from my father. A sigh escaped me and I lay the file aside, pushing off the chair to walk my way over to his room. He kept shouting, trying to outdo the last call in volume until I appeared by his door in the hallway.

"Yes?"

He jolted in shock by my sudden answer and muttered a few curses under his breath. The blanket was pulled up to cover his injured leg and it was checked through his glances as if the sight of it were a shame to be on display. I refrained from looking at it, feeling uncomfortable with the way he behaved towards it.

"Why don't you answer when I call you?"

A part of me wanted to spew sarcasm but I was tired to keep up the jest. "I came over instead. I didn't think to."

"Clearly you didn't think. What are you doing wearing your suit after you've returned hours ago? It'll wrinkle."

My face crinkled in question but I shook off the expression before leaning on the door frame.

"Dad, I got some work to do. Tell me what you called me for."

"Don't get impatient with me. I've lived with your griping for longer than you'll live with mine. I need to use the bathroom. Your mothers' out to do some shopping so I need your help."

I fisted my hands beside me but moved from the frame to oblige the request. I crouched by the bed to retrieve the bed pan under the bed. It was shaped like a vase but was slightly curved in to a C to hold the contents until disposal. I handed it to him and he pushed himself to sit up, wincing in pain while watching that the blankets did not move off him. My eyes lowered to the blanket as well, my hands lifting to hover over the covers in case it did move off him.

"Leave."

My hands retracted to my side as I turned to walk out the room. I began unbuttoning my shirt, pulling the tucked part out my pants. I cascaded in to planning my tasks without thinking much about processes like snacking in between or relaxing on the bed before doing something else. It all has to get done at once otherwise I'm prolonging progress. I stretch my arm towards one of the files -

"I'm done."

- Ugh. I took a deep breath and turned to go back in to the room. He held out the pot to me to hold and I walked over, reaching for the gloves that now lived on the side of his bed stand. The rubber uncomfortably fitted over my hand and clung to my skin with a nauseating feel. I shuddered at the hold.

"Hurry up, what are you doing? Do you think I can hold this all day?"

I shook my head and reached for the pot but miscalculated the distance so I knocked in to my fathers hand and almost tipped over the pot. He sat up fast but groaned as pain probably surged through his leg. He let go of the pot but I managed to grab it in my hands – one gloved and one not. My stomach turned at the warm feeling of the pot.