Love Topside

Hunt’s POV

“Well, Hunt,” Dr. Capritelli, my ENT for the past eight years, starts and then pauses to remove the small frameless glasses from his face. I watch him closely as he pulls out a soft rag to clean his glasses from some obscure pocket in his coat; a gesture I know means he’s going to deliver bad news.

My body tenses, bracing myself for what I already know is coming. My muscles lock up, coiling tightly as my fight or flight response is heavily leaning toward flight.

A giant fluffy head lands heavily across my thighs and I instinctively thread my fingers through the long white scruff of her neck. My service dog, Juniper, stares up at me with those big brown eyes and I am useless to fight the small curl to one corner of my lips.

“It’s exactly the results we expected,” he sighs heavily.

“My hearing has gotten worse,” I fill in and he nods. My deep voice seems to echo in the small, sterile space, making me cringe. He’s right, the tinnitus has been steadily growing worse for the past twelve years. Honestly, I’m shocked it’s lasted as long as it has.

“I’m afraid so. Good news is that it’s not deteriorating any faster than we originally predicted.” His face lights up with a beaming smile, I know he intends to lessen the blow.

I stare blankly at him and then at Juniper who copies my eye movement. “What happens next?” I ask, refusing to tear my gaze away from my anchor.

“I’m no longer going to be suggesting a hearing aid.” My gaze lifts quickly to his both excited at the prospect of not needing a hearing aid, but also confused. “I’m going to insist you get them.”

And there’s the fine print.

He holds his hands up in surrender as I scowl at him. “Look, how about this? I’ll book you an appointment a week from now to get fitted for one. If you truly feel you can’t go through with it, you have time to cancel. However, I feel like I should point out that this can greatly improve your life.” He hesitantly hands me a pamphlet with a couple on the cover and both of them are wearing hearing aids and bright smiles. “Just think about it. Okay?”

I dip my chin, promising to at least think on it. There’s little I do without overanalyzing every variable in any situation. Just ask my ex-wife, she’ll gladly explain all of my frustrating habits.

Standing from the large leather chair, I shake his hand. “Thanks, Cap.”

He leads me through the winding hallways, though he doesn’t need to anymore. Juniper remains at my side, ignoring the gasps and stares we get having a dog in a medical office. Her working vest is usually enough to prevent too many stares or questions. But anytime anyone sees the block-lettered “SERVICE DOG” printed along her side, they then assess me. I know they’re searching for every possible flaw to decide why I have a service dog.

It’s none of their business. Anyone who needs to know is well aware of enough of my past to accept the Great Pyrenees at my side as an extension of me. Anyone else can fuck right off. Though, it sadly still gets to me when they stare at me like I’m less than. In a way, I suppose they’re right.

Cap and his team of nurses are always wonderful and accommodating with us. A few of them even sneak dog treats to her; well, they give them to me and I feed her. Rule number one of service dogs, only their handler should touch or feed them.

After shaking hands one more time with Cap, Juniper and I walk out to the parking lot. Opening the door to my navy blue 1980 Ford F150, she jumps onto the seat of the lifted cabin and sits in the passenger seat to stick her nose out the already lowered window. I slide in after her and crank up the truck with a loud roar.

Turning my wrist, I check the time on my smartwatch and see we have a few hours before we have to pick Casey up from the bus stop. It’s not enough time to go back to work. I’d barely have time to do even an oil change, let alone the rebuilds I do more frequently at the shop.

So, instead, I pull out of the parking lot toward the grocery store. Maybe I’ll make something special for Casey. She’s been such a trooper lately that she deserves to be spoiled here and there.

It doesn’t take us long to get through the store since I go often enough to not need a big trip ever. It’s a helpful trick I’ve learned over the years to limit my exposure to large crowds. Unfortunately, I had to learn this the hard way after years of very public panic attacks.

Once we’re home, I slip off Juniper’s working vest and hang it by the door. She follows me through the house where I slide open the back door and I watch as she sprints out toward the woods to explore and do her business. In the safe space of our home, she isn’t on the clock as much allowing her to be more of a family pet.

A pot of my super meaty spaghetti sauce is blipping away on the stove and I’m pulling the last batch of break-and-bake cookies out of the oven when I hear Juniper’s nails clicking on the wooden floor. With a loud huff, she plops onto her bed which allows her to keep an eye on me no matter where I am in the open floorplan living area.

Standing at the sink, drying the last of the dishes from cookies and breakfast, my smart watch buzzes alerting me that Casey’s bus should be dropping her off from school soon. I put the dish away and slip on my boots. Juniper follows me out and we take up our usual post in the front yard waiting on the big yellow bus to bring me my daughter.

My hands are shoved far into the pockets of my navy tactical pants by the time she gets off the bus with a beaming smile, making Juniper’s tail wag so hard it hits against my leg.

I wave my thanks to the bus driver and she returns it. A routine we’ve been doing for almost five years.

My eyes track the path of the ten-year-old girl and her long sandy brown hair with curls that bounce with each step. That unruly mess looks like it’s in desperate need of another brush after a day of school.

Watching her approach as if everything is in slow motion I ponder on my usual thoughts of whether I’m doing a good enough job as a single father. Her slightly mismatched and untrendy outfit leaves me thinking that I’m failing this precious gift.

But when those big hazel eyes, that match mine perfectly, stare at me I push the self-doubt aside. She wraps her little arms around my hips and squeezes me as tight as she can. I wrap my arms around her, rubbing her back between her shirt and bookbag.

“Hey, kiddo! How was school?” I ask as she releases me and takes her place at my side as the three of us walk inside.

“It was awesome! Ms. Montague gave me another book she said I had to read. And then get this?” she says excitedly, not pausing for me to guess. “She said we can discuss the book together over lunch when I’m done. How cool is that?”

“That’s pretty cool,” I agree and can’t help but chuckle. I love her love for learning, her excitement is contagious. I wish she’d remain this little girl forever, but I know that’s impossible so I force myself to look forward to the unknown ahead of us.

She continues rambling about the fourth-grade drama when we walk inside and kick off our shoes.

“Do you have any homework?” I ask before she can run off to her room.

“Mmhmm, math. It shouldn’t take me long, I finished most of it in class when I finished the classwork. So, I can help with dinner or laundry if you need me to.”

How did I get so lucky?

“That’s sweet, Case. I have spaghetti already on the stove, but help folding the laundry later would be great.”

I used to never allow her to help, thinking it was another part of me failing as a father that my child had to help me. However, my therapist, Dr. Julia Sterling, told me to allow Casey to feel involved in the household chores if she wants it. And so I’ve allowed her to blossom however she felt she needed to show her love in our little family. I feel like it’s forced her to grow up too fast. But I will keep doing whatever I think is best for her and hope that I don’t fuck her up too badly. Just like every parent, I suppose.

She drops off her lunchbox and school folder on the kitchen island before grabbing a snack from the pantry and heading off to her room. I thumb through the straight-A papers in the folder, reading any comments or annotations from the teacher so I can check her homework better.

At the very back is an invitation to ‘Career Day’ for all of fourth grade and the parents are invited to speak. I stare at the cardstock paper for too long, running my fingers over the letters absent-mindedly. Moving a magnet on the fridge, I place the invitation there as a reminder. A reminder for what, I’m not a hundred percent on.

I glance down at Juniper and she cocks her head to the side, staring at me curiously.

“That would be a very bad idea,” I tell her with no context. Speaking to a group of children and their parents would be hard enough, my job as a mechanic would be quite boring. But discussing my military career in the Navy would be epically a bad idea.

Memories of an explosion so vivid that my ears start ringing and I swear I can feel the heat on my skin.

A gentle scratch along the side of my leg forces me quickly back into the present. I glance down to see Juniper staring up at me, one foot slightly lifted. She cocks her head to the side and paws at my leg again. That’s when I notice my chest is rising and falling rapidly and my hands are clenched tightly into fists.

I run my fingers through Juniper’s thick white coat and force myself to breathe in and out slowly. Focusing on my breath brings me back to normal–well, mostly. Trying to prevent myself from falling back into the hole, I hyperfocus on my daily duties: I feed Juniper, give the spaghetti one last stir, and drain the noodles.

“Daddy!”

I jump, nearly dropping the pot of cooked spaghetti noodles all over the floor. Carefully, with shaky hands, I set the pot down and place both hands flat on the counter. My heart is racing in my chest, this time making my smart watch buzz on my wrist to alert me to relax.

Casey is standing off to the side of the island with a piece of paper in her hands; eyes blown wide and lips pinched into a thin line.

“Sorry, Daddy,” she says quietly, her cheeks brightening to a dark pink color. “I called your name like four times and you didn’t answer.”

“It’s okay, kiddo. What do you need?” I ask, taking a deep, calming breath.

“I finished my homework.” She hands me the paper which I check over fairly quickly, only having to fix one thing her teacher mentioned on her last homework. With a high five, she returns everything to her bookbag and sets the island with our napkins, silverware, and drinks.

Both of us fall into our usual roles and ignore the incident that just occurred.

I was either lost in my thoughts or my hearing is worse than I thought. Neither is fair to keep putting my daughter through.

Handing her a filled plate with a small pile of steaming spaghetti, she makes yummy noises and sits while I plate up mine.

“How’d your appointment go?” she asks as I slide in next to her.

“Fine,” I mumble and take a big bite of food as a distraction. Her question feels like a heavy weight on my shoulders after what just happened.

She goes silent next to me and I know that means bad news. At least bad news for me, anyway. I cautiously check my peripheral vision to see her scowling at me.

Sitting up straighter, I sigh loudly and take one more bite to stall the inevitable. Juniper is by my side in seconds and rests her head on my leg. Touch therapy really is a magical thing. I glance between the only two women who’ve never let me down. Honestly, the only two women I need.

“He insists I get a hearing aid. Booked me an appointment next week.” The words leave an acrid taste in my mouth and I take a big sip of water to try and wash it out.

“Are you going to do it?” she finally returns to her food knowing I don’t open up well to an audience.

“I don’t know,” I mumble.

“Daddy, this could be huge for you. Have you talked to Dr. Julia?” I shake my head. Her small hand delicately touches my forearm, her warmth filling me with her love and tightening my chest. “I love you no matter what, Daddy.”

“I know. I love you too, kiddo, but I want you to be a kid and quit worrying about your old man so much.” I lean over and pull her closer so I can kiss the top of her head.

“If I don’t, then who will?” she whispers so quietly I’m not sure I hear her. I’m about to ask what she said when she leaps out of her chair. “I almost forgot!” She rushes to her bookbag and returns with a small card and a pensive look on her face. She stares at the small sheet as if she’s unsure what to do with it and finally hands it over to me. “I got this today from Bailey.”

Taking it from her, I glance down at the sparkly invitation in pink and gold. My heart races in my chest as I read the words. The room shrinks around me and all of the oxygen is sucked out. Juniper partially climbs into my lap so her chest is resting across my thighs and her head is lifted and rests against my chest. Closing my eyes tight, I focus on the breathing exercises my therapist taught me and slowly run my hands through her soft white fur.

As the panic attack slowly ebbs away, I hesitantly crack open my eyes in time to see Casey blink away tears from her eyes.

“It’s a pool party,” I say and cringe at how scratchy my voice sounds.

“I know.” And I instantly hate myself for making her sound so meek. My own flesh and blood feels like she can’t come to me with things she wants simply because it might set me off. That’s not fair to her.

Swallowing loudly, I try to choose my words carefully. I promised myself I wouldn’t let my issues become her issues. “You don’t know how to swim.” And I hate myself more. What child her age doesn’t know how to swim? But anytime I attempted to sign her up, I panicked and didn’t.

“I was thinking about that. I can stay in the shallow end where I can stand. Or I could just sit on the edge or the stairs. Whichever you prefer.”

Tears blur my vision as I reach out and pull the most precious creature to my side. I’m supposed to be the parent caring for her.

“I-I-I don’t know if I can, love,” I admit; my voice taking on a hoarse tone from the overwhelming emotions.

“It’s okay, Daddy. I understand.”

And that right there is enough to give me strength to fight. For her. “Can I talk to Dr. Julia first and get back to you?” My therapist will be able to talk me through my fears and help me decide what’s the best option for my little girl. I want her to have a fulfilling life with friends her own age and not have to worry that her father may freak out and go crazy.

She squeezes me tighter and my heart swells. I really am the luckiest bastard in the entire world.