Daddy Issues

8 - Tough guy

Productivity has never been my forte, so about an hour and a half after I told Dan I was gonna unpack, I'm lying on my bed with an old photo album surrounded by stuff that I've plucked out of my suitcase and tossed randomly around the room.

Melanie gave me this album for my 18th birthday. It's pictures of me and her through the years and all the things we did. I've been taking shots of the best of them and sending them to her, setting her up for a stream of new messages when she gets the chance to check her phone.

I just found one where we were about 15 and we'd tried a make up tutorial on each other. The results weren't exactly like the glam look the tutorial promised. Grinning, I take another picture and I'm just about to send it to her when a couple of loud curse words drift through the open window.

I decide to get up and look and find Dan shaking his hand vigourously, staring furiously at the fence like it hurt him as a personal insult.

I can't help but chuckle at the sight of it. I suppose I could offer my help. I'm actually pretty good at fixing things up, if I do say so myself. But do I really want to spend more time with Dan? Sure, he's nice, but he's a little invasive. It sounds like he's already expecting us to have every meal together when I usually just do my own thing when I'm here. Mom and I never spend much time together, so why should we?

But he did make me those eggs this morning. And though I'd never admit it, I guess the ride home yesterday was actually pretty convenient. And the way he's now trying to hammer in a nail with just one hand while sucking the finger of his injured one is just... painful to see.

Before I can change my mind, and before he can ruin the fence or his hands any more, I rush downstairs and into the yard.

'So', I ask when he spots me walking up to him. 'How are you getting on with that fence?'

'If you're here to laugh at me, please just do it where I can't see it', he says, a little grumpily. 'I'm having fun enough as it is.'

'I was going to ask if you need any help. I noticed you're one hand down', I say, looking down at his hand, now hanging idly by his side. Clearly, he's hit it pretty hard with the hammer. There's blood dripping down the edges of his thumb's fingernail that has turned a bright blue.

'Really?' he asks, surprised.

'Yeah', I shrug, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. Maybe he doesn't want my help. He did say he wanted to get to know me, but this could take a while and surely be doesn't want to spend hours with me, does he?

'I mean, only if you want it', I add casually.

'Fuck, yes, I want it', he says, surprising me with his enthusiasm. 'I've been at it for an hour and here's what I got to show for it.'

I try to surpress the laugh that wants to make its way to my face when I take a look at the fallen fence. Only one part has been blown down. The pole has gotten loose from the ground, causing this part of the fence to lean haphazardly forward. Some of the wooden panels have taken damage, but they seem mostly intact. They just need to be put in their place again. Which Dan is trying to accomplish by hammering then together with little pieces of wood. It's very clearly not going to hold, but I don't think this is the right moment to tell him that.

'We should probably have a look at your thumb first,' I say. 'You won't be able to do much with that hand if you keep popping it into your mouth.'

'The bleeding's pretty much stopped', he argues, frowning as he takes a closer look at it.

'We should clean it and bandage you up', I tell him sternly. 'Or it could get infected. Come on, I did just finish a year of med school, so let me practice my skills on you.'