I wonder if this is about her opening up that new boutique. It’s going to be similar to the one already attached to her interior design offices, only bigger. It’s been in the works for a while, but she’s been waiting on the right time to tell Daddy. Cole doesn’t know about it, either. Can’t tell him anything unless you want the whole world to know.

“Barbara, you’re the one who wants this. So go ahead and tell them.” His emotions are starting to get the best of him and he’s falling out of lawyer mode.

“For fuck’s sake, can somebody please tell us what’s going on,” Cole exclaims, his voice super high and shaking all over the place.

No one corrects Cole about his language. Mom and Daddy are too busy staring each other down.

The door swings open. “Now that the whole gang is here,” Dr. Williams says, walking in, tossing her long gray locs over her shoulder. But she doesn’t finish her sentence. She’s noticing the tension in the room, and we’re all noticing her notice the tension in the room. Can’t get any more awkward. She looks down at her clipboard through her rectangular, red-framed glasses like she’s reading something (she knows she’s not reading anything) and looks back up.

Then she starts talking about the surgery. Yes, the surgery. That’s what she’s here to discuss—what the laparoscopic cholecystectomy (gallbladder removal surgery) will involve.

Four tiny incisions around my belly button.

A tiny video camera, which she will insert into my abdomen via one of the incisions.

A video monitor (not tiny), which will display the inside of my abdomen via the camera.

Surgical tools, which she will use to remove my gallbladder from my abdomen while watching the monitor.

Insane, right? But apparently it’s no big deal. I should be able to leave the hospital a few hours after surgery. And I’ll only take about two weeks to recover.

Daddy brings up the state championship, the fact that it’s only five weeks away.

Mom and I trade glances.

Cole is staring at the TV, high up in the corner of the room, looking like he’s about to cry.

Daddy wants to schedule the surgery for this Monday, as in the day after tomorrow.

The doctor brings up the necessary presurgery lab work.

Mom brings up school.

The surgery will be scheduled for this Friday.

I’m free to go. In the meantime, if I start feeling another attack coming on, I need to find somewhere to lie down so I don’t hurt myself fainting. I was lucky this time.

REX