Her face betrayed surprise. Then she nodded and stepped out, shutting the divider curtain behind her.

40.

dad patted the hospital bed. I sat on the edge and it reacted with an angry creak. We both laughed warily. I pulled up one of the visitor chairs instead.

“We’ve barely said two words to each other since you got back from your grandparents’.” He managed a wry smile. “I’ve had the sneaking suspicion you might be avoiding me.”

I didn’t know how to answer. He wasn’t not right. But I didn’t want to agitate him by admitting it now.

Dad’s heart monitor kept a steady beat. “I assume you’ve been spending time with our young friend.”

He meant Oscar. I nodded.

“How is he?”

“He . . .” I scooted back, but the question didn’t seem loaded, like when Nora asked. “He’s definitely got some anxiety issues.”

“You don’t know the half of it. It’s not his fault, it’s . . .”

I did know the half of it. Maybe even two-thirds. But he didn’t realize that.

There was one thing I had to risk saying. “Listen, Dad, Oscar and I are together. I’m his girlfriend, and I know you’re his mentor, but ultimately we’re the only two people who should be making decisions about our relationship. So I hope you can find a way to be supportive.”

Dad’s eyes fixed on mine with strange intensity. I expected an argument, a capitulation, a sigh, but what he said was, “Don’t clean our house.”

I blinked.

“I heard Alice asking you.” He winced, adjusting himself against the bed back. “You know, it took you being away for me to finally figure out what’s been wrong. Second day you were gone, I yelled downstairs for you to bring me a coffee. The only person to answer was myself! And do you know what I said?”

I waited, smiling.

“I said, ‘Marty? You’re an asshole.’”

I started to laugh, but he leaned forward, intent.

“You don’t have to be useful, Ruby. You don’t have to be anything but happy. Your job is to get good grades, do what you damn well please. Within reason.”

“Dad . . .” I glanced at his heart monitor. “We can talk about this stuff later.”

“I want to get it out now. This is routine, I’m not worried, but . . . there are things I need to say.”

I settled into my chair again, trying to stay calm so that he would too.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like . . .” Dad squinted strangely, like he’d figured out the right word but disliked the way it tasted. “Like you’re less important than the rest of us.”

My body went pinprick numb. He’d never admitted that before.

“You’re my child, Ruby,” he said, reaching for my hand. “You’re why I’m here. In the world, not the ER.”