Adopted By Kevin Olusola

Chapter 15

KEVIN's POV
I feel so bad when I say something that offends Kyra. I never mean to, but sometimes it just happens when I am trying to say the simplest of things.
Kyra came home from the mall today and she sat down in the kitchen. She had set all of her bags on the dining room table. Out of nowhere she said, "I am nervous about going out in front of all of those people. What if they don't like me because I am too skinny?"
"They will love you, Kyra. I'm sure of it. If anyone says anything about it, I will tell them to-to...not... say...that?" I said, not sure how to scold someone for making fun of my daughter. Usually Kyra would be laughing if I said something like that, but when I looked over at her she was just staring at the floor. "What's the matter?" I asked her.
"I was just thinking about my parents and I think I am ready to tell you what happened to them," she said, not looking up from the floor.
"I'm listening," I said as I sat down beside her.
"When I was 8," she started to cry, "my mom and dad went on a vacation to my aunt's house in Florida. They flew into Florida and when they got off the plane, they saw a sign with their last name on it. They thought that my aunt had sent a car for them, but the car was really for two members of a gang. When my parents got in the car, they were shot and they both died immediately. The whole thing was caught on security cameras. When I was 8, they had me watch it. Every second of it was torture. They made me watch it multiple times to make sure that it was my parents and to make sure that I knew what happened. I can still play every second of it in my head. I wish that I could have stopped it, but there was nothing that I could do. I'm done talking. I'm going to bed. Goodnight."
"Goodnight," I said, letting all of this information sink into my head. I can't even imagine. Instead of thinking of that horrible event any longer, I went upstairs and went to bed.
~the next day~
I went into Kyra's room to wake her up. It was 5:00 am, but her appointment was at 7:00 and it was 20 minutes away without traffic. I was expecting her to still be sleeping, but she was sitting up in bed, clutching her side and crying silently. She was trying to convince me that it was fine, so we wouldn't have to go to the doctor.
"How bad does it hurt?" I asked.
"It's fine," she lied, "It's just a little tender."
"Don't lie to me," I said.
"It's fine!" She said optimistically. She started to get out of bed, but she stopped and clutched her side. "Okay," she said, honestly, "It hurts really bad. Could you help me up?"
I picked her up out of bed. She was still so light. It's not like she can eat foods with a lot of fat in them to gain weight because of her gluten allergy. She asked me to pick out some clothes for her while she went to the bathroom and started getting ready. It tore me up seeing her like this. I just want her to get better. She always looked like she was in pain, whether it was emotionally or physically. She walked out of the bathroom with her hair in a messy bun and no makeup on. I handed her some sweatpants and a sweatshirt.
"Thanks," she said, struggling to stand up.
"You're welcome," I said, kissing her on the forehead, "I'll go make some breakfast for us to take in the car. It's a long drive if there is traffic." I was taking her to one of my friends from college. I trusted him to make it better as fast as possible.
I went downstairs to make breakfast. Everything in the kitchen now was gluten-free. A few minutes later, Kyra hobbled downstairs with her hand on her side.
"Ready to go?" I asked. She nodded as I handed her some breakfast. We got in the car and started driving to the doctor as we ate our breakfast.
"This is really good," she said with a full mouth.
"Thanks," I said, "It's amazing what a pack of granola and some yogurt can do."
We drove the rest of the way to the doctor practicing for tour and talking. We were the first appointment at the doctor, so we didn't have any wait.
"Hey, Kevin!" Evan, the doctor and my friend from college said as he walked in, "This must be your daughter. It's nice to meet you, Kyra."
"Nice to meet you!" Kyra said back.
"So, your rib has been really bad," Evan said, "What happened?"
Kyra glanced over at me as if she was saying, Tell him. "Kyra," I started, "was beat up by a girl in her grade and her brother who is a senior." Evan looked at me, shocked. He quickly turned to his papers and wrote something down then turned back to Kyra.
"I'm going to take you in to get an x-ray. Your dad can come if he wants." I looked at Kyra and she nodded, telling me to come with.
Kyra laid down on the table and had her x-ray done. Afterwards, we walked back to the room and sat there for a until the x-rays developed. About 15 minutes later, Evan came back in.
"Bad news," he said, "Your rib is indeed fractured and it will take a while to heal. Good news, we have a brace that we can give you to use on tour so you can still do a lot of stuff that you would normally do. Whenever you are not busy, you should try to be sitting or lying down. Also, if it is hurting too much just take some Ibuprofen. I will go grab you the brace and you will be good to go."
"Thanks," Kyra and I both said in unison.
"Dad," she said, "Thank you for going out of your way to make me feel welcome at home and make sure I feel good. It really means a lot."
"Of course," I said, "There is nothing I wouldn't do for my little girl." She giggled until Evan came back in with the brace and some information on what we can do to make sure it heals.
"Thanks, man," I said once Kyra was starting to walk towards the front, "It means a lot to me that you could squeeze us in before tour."
"No problem," he said, "Just let me know how Kyra is doing. If she needs anything, just give me a call."
"Thanks again!" I said as I followed Kyra out the door.
We sat in the car, silently for half the way home. "You don't have to treat me like I'm fragile," Kyra said, "Just because I'm hurt, doesn't mean that I need special treatment. I can function like any other 13 year old. I don't want to hold you back."
"Ky," I said, "You are not holding me back from anything. Even if you were, I wouldn't care because I love you."
"Thanks, Dad," she said, "I'm nervous for tour and I don't know what to do if I get stage fright."
"Just smile and pretend that you are fine. Eventually, you won't be pretending," I said.
"Sounds like it should work," she said," It's kind of like what I have been doing my whole life, pretending that I am fine around people, so they don't know how I am really feeling."