dan
it's been another two weeks since the funeral. phil is still a mess, and in result, so is our financial situation.
the coffee shop ended up firing him because he couldn't return to work. i've been working as much as i can, trying to pay the bills. but it's not enough.
"hey, phil? why don't you and i go applying for jobs together?" i suggest lightly. phil's fixated in bed, only leaving to pee and get some water. sometimes he'll walk into the living room and sit with lily, then get confused and go back to bed.
"i'm not ready." he says, monotone.
i feel my patience withering away.
"sit up." i demand. phil lays in bed still, his eyes flickering over my face. he forces himself into an upright position.
"okay. i know your dad died. and i'm so sorry, and it sucks. you don't deserve it, no one does. but you can't sit around and feel sorry for yourself while you and i wither away to a financial black hole. you have to get up and lock it up because you're never going to recover unless you do, and i'm not letting you do that to yourself. i love you."
silence.
panic sets in as i realize what i said. before i can backtrack and try to take it back, phil stops me.
"you're right. i'm sorry. i.. i love you too."
author's note:
short but development
