Fix Me

Tired of being at her beck and call, I had even less patience. Over a thousand miles away and she still expected me to jump when she called. I was over it. I was tired of her emotional blackmail. She was pissed that I was moving on. She was pissed that I wasn’t falling for her crap. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to move on with my life. I hated that my own mother was manipulating me, that she had manipulated me for the majority of my life.

“No more, lady, no more,” I muttered.

I closed my eyes and debated whether to get up or try to sleep for another thirty minutes. There was no way I was going back to sleep. I threw off the blanket and got out of bed. I was anxious to see how Bree had done by herself all night. She had practically thrown me out of the house. I hoped it was because she was truly interested in being independent.

I offered to sleep on the couch or upstairs in one of the guestrooms. That way I would be close enough to help if she needed me but out of her way enough to give her the space she wanted. She wouldn’t agree to it.

Hopping in the shower, I dressed and set out across the grounds. It was another beautiful day in Malibu. I understood why so many people flocked to the area. It was gorgeous and warm without sweating your balls off. I loved living in California. I couldn’t wait to see what the future held for me and Bree, I hoped.

I opened the door and stepped inside, my ears straining to hear anything. I heard humming and following the sound, soon found myself in the solarium. Bree was sitting in her favorite chair, a cup of coffee sitting on the side table and music softly playing in the background.

“You’re up early,” she said.

I smiled, moving to stand in front of her. “I think you’re the one that’s up early. How was your night?”

“Peaceful,” she said, with a serene smile. “I wasn’t afraid. I went to bed early and woke up early. I made myself coffee and toast.”

I was so proud of her. “No kidding.”

“Would you like me to make you some breakfast?” she asked with a grin.

“I would like that,” I said, wanting her to feel useful.

I followed her into the kitchen, wincing whenever she got close to running into something. I kept my mouth shut. She wanted independence. I felt like a parent watching their child take their first shaky steps. I wanted to guide and help her but refrained.

“Look at you move,” I said, as I watched her move around the kitchen with ease.

I wondered if the newfound independence was because she changed her mind about getting the surgery. I had to accept that she was in control of her destiny. If she chose not to get the surgery, then I had to be okay with it. I would love her all the same. I knew it would be a long, hard road. There would be frustrations and fights and she would probably be angry over the situation.

“Mel and I are going to a spa today,” she announced.

“Oh,” I said with surprise. “All day?”

“It’s an eight-hour session. Massage, soak and facials.”

I was happy for her. “That sounds like the perfect day. It will be good for you. If you get in one of those mud baths, make sure you leave your foot out.”

She laughed. “No mud bath today, but thank you for your concern.”

“I have to ask, did you take your meds this morning?”

“Yes, doctor,” she answered.

“Nurse. In this case, I am your nurse and that is one of my duties. I can’t have you getting sick on me.”

She scoffed. “The last thing I need is to lose my foot or my whole damn leg. Wouldn’t that be horrible?”

“Yes, it would be. Can I see it? I want to check for redness.”

She let out a long sigh before hiking her foot up and resting it on the stool. “Don’t look at my toes. We’re getting pedicures today.”

I pinched her big toe. “I love your toes.”

“Don’t tell me you have a foot fetish. That’s a deal breaker.”

I smiled, shaking my head as I peeled back the bandage. The cut seemed to be healing okay. “Looks good,” I told her.

“Good.”