He narrowed his eyes and he made a sound
when the doctor turned. Come here, the doctor
said to me. I was young, but held my ground;
naïve, but the doctor was naïver still.
My father glared at me again. I’m proud
of her, he said, and this time, I will …
but his voice drifted off and up. He’s tired,
the doctor said, then asked, Where is your mother?
I drove myself, I lied. It’s she who’s tired.
The sun shined cold on the sunroom floor.
I wasn’t old enough to sign him out.
Fuck you, my father said, heading back to the ward.
My mother waited in the idling Ford.