The lock clicked at three in the morning. The door swung open, slowly and quietly, and I switched on the lamp.
"Dad," she said, startled.
"Was it Brewster again? Gail, he's no damned good."
"I like him, Dad; that's what matters. If you're afraid I'm gonna leave you alone in your sickness, I'm not. But I'm eighteen and I'll see whoever I please!"
She turned, fled up the stairs, and slammed her bedroom door. I pulled myself out of my wheelchair, slid onto the sofa bed and began thinking about tomorrow and dreading another sleepless night.
"Dad," she said, startled.
"Was it Brewster again? Gail, he's no damned good."
"I like him, Dad; that's what matters. If you're afraid I'm gonna leave you alone in your sickness, I'm not. But I'm eighteen and I'll see whoever I please!"
She turned, fled up the stairs, and slammed her bedroom door. I pulled myself out of my wheelchair, slid onto the sofa bed and began thinking about tomorrow and dreading another sleepless night.
