9.83 You Can’t Fix Me

It seems that everyone had their own prescriptions for Skyla. Try yoga. Don’t worry about it. Paint more. Have a baby. Focus on the remodel. Go on vacation. But no one ever thought of what it must have been like to be her. No one had ever walked in her shoes. Her life had been struggle after struggle. Every time she caught a break, something else was around the corner to crush her dreams. When would it end? All she ever wanted was to be truly happy and not have anything to worry about. All she did was worry in those days. Was her dad ok? Was Jonathan still happy with her? Was there something wrong with her? When was her father going to die? Could she even get pregnant? So many worries. She had even taken to being sick sometimes and often had headaches.

But still, she soldiered on. That’s what she did. She was a fighter. Yet, sometimes the fight overcame her and she got depressed.

One afternoon, Juliette was over visiting with Jonathan—he had taken another day off to be with Skyla. She was telling him about her baby. Before she left, she dropped in to say hello to Skyla.

“Hello, my dear sister-in-law. You’re looking, ummm…well, I suppose.”

“I just have a bit of a headache.”

“Oh. Yeah, heh, me too. That baby…he screams more than any child I’ve ever met! One of these nights I’m gonna let him scream all night. That’ll show him who’s boss!”

“That’s not nice, Juliette.”

“He’s not nice!”

“What did you name him?”

“Mark.”

“Mark…Pruett?”

“Of course Mark Pruett! Why would I name him after his donor?”

Skyla didn’t know whether she should laugh or think Juliette’s situation was upsetting. She shook her head and said, “You’re a piece of work, Juliette.”

“I am what I am!”

Eugene joined them at the table for an early dinner.

“Well, I need to get going,” Juliette said. “I’m sure my screaming banshee is giving the day care a run for their money. Bye!”

Eugene ate his dinner while Skyla rubbed her temples attempting to nurse her headache. But, Eugene was very hungry and finished his dinner quickly.

“Dad…this isn’t the first time you’re eating today, is it?”

“…I didn’t feel like it before!”

“You have to eat, daddy! Why do I have to remind you to eat?”

“Daddy?!”

“Nooooo!”

Jonathan ran to Skyla’s rescue when he heard her scream. She was paralyzed with fear and didn’t know what to do.

“Call the doctor,” he yelled as he tried to wake Eugene up.

Luckily, he had only passed out, and Jonathan helped him get up and make his way back to his bedroom. Dr. Vinson arrived within 15 minutes and checked Eugene’s vitals. Shortly after, she called Skyla in to speak with her.

“Is he going to be ok this time?”

“Yes. I think his blood sugar just dropped too low because everything else is fine. He just fainted. Is he eating regularly?”

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Dr. Vinson…I can’t watch him every minute of every day to make sure he’s doing what he’s supposed to do! He’s my father! I don’t want to have to treat him like a child!”

“I understand Mrs. Pruett. Trust me. Maybe it’s time to look into some sort of in home care. He doesn’t need a full time nurse because he’s not majorly ill. But someone could come over once or twice a day to look after him and treat him for minor illnesses.”

“I’ll think about it. Thanks, Dr. Vinson.”

She showed the doctor out and trudged back to the den where her husband was.

“What did the doctor say,” Jonathan asked.

“She said he fainted because his blood sugar got too low! Jonathan, I can’t keep running after him all day making sure he’s eating and what not! He’s my father! He’s not my child! He’s not even senile! I can’t handle all of this!”

“Awww, Skyla. I’m sorry,” he said and tried to massage her shoulders.

“NO,” she yelled. “Stop trying to fix me! I don’t need a massage! I need for everything to be like it’s supposed to be!”

“I…I…I’m sorry! I was just trying to make you feel better!”

“I’ll feel better when my father isn’t sick! I’ll feel better when this house is finally finished! I’ll feel better when we have a baby!”

“Meatball…hey, would you mind opening the store tomorrow? I need to be at home with my wife…”