“You haven’t shaved in a few days,” dad stated last night during our medication ritual. “And you’ve been sleeping on the couch. That is odd for you.”
I should’ve shaved before dad came over. I knew this would happen. Dad sees it as a sign I am not doing well mentally – not taking care of myself physically. Frankly, I had just let my guard down while they were gone. I was merely being lazy and I hate shaving. I was just taking a few days off from “work”.
We walked into my kitchen and laundry room to do Maggie’s water and food routine. Dad handed me the water bowl to pour out in the sink. He then went to throw Maggie’s day old food out in the trash.
“Hmmm,” he muttered. “You’ve let your trash get full as well. You never do that.”
“Just being lazy,” I replied defensively. “Nothing’s wrong I assure you.”
Dad then checked my bathroom toilet for any signs of bulimia. There weren’t any and besides, I’m too crafty to ever let him find that again. Dad also knows that Charlie can be lax when watching me take my medications.
“Have you been taking your meds?” he asked with a scornful look on his face. “Have you been throwing them up while I was gone?”
I assured dad once again that everything was fine.
“I’ve been taking my meds, dad,” I replied as I crossed my arms in a defensive posture.
“Well, go eat your hamburger before it gets cold,” he told me kindly relaxing a bit as he was leaving.
This kind of scrutiny I am so used to. It is a common occurrence and something I must endure to keep a stable relationship between my father and I. Dad just cares. I am just glad things are back to normal. I was oddly soothed by the “Fatherly Inquisition”.