Family: Out of Business

Diagnosed

Claire's pov

"Not you, Dad, I was talking about... Oh, nevermind," I pouted, realizing there was no good way to end that sentence.

"You know you're on thin enough ice with me already, young lady. I strongly suggest you don't add foul language to the mix." Dad pursed his lips together tightly as he scowled at me. "Sono chiaro (Am I clear)?"

"Si signore (Yes sir)," I replied dutifully. I don't need him to be any more mad at me than he already is.

"Have you had sufficient time to think about your behavior, mia figlia (my daughter)?"

"Yes, Daddy, and I'm sorry." I'm not exactly sure why but I started crying. "I didn't mean to make you so mad, Daddy. I just wanted you to be proud of me for doing all my chores and I didn't think it would even matter that I called Samantha." I was full on blubbering now. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

My father pulled me up into his arms and hugged me, holding me close as he said, "Oh, sweetpea, don't cry. I'm not mad at you, I was just unhappy with your disobedience and less than contrite attitude." Patting my bottom firmly in warning he replied, "You know better than to speak to me that way. Don't you?"

"Yes, Daddy," I said sniffling, as he held me at arm's length.

"I'm going to give you your phone back since you worked so hard on your chores yesterday." He held my phone out but then pulled it away when I went to reach for it. "On the condition that you straighten up both your attitude and behavior. Capiscimi (Understand me)?"

He put the phone in my hand but didn't let go.

I responded, "Yes sir," assuming that's what he wanted to hear.

"I mean it, Claire Francesca, best behavior."

"OMG, Dad! Would you just give me my phone back already?" I questioned, a little too hastily and with a smidge too much attitude for my dad's liking. I don't know what's going on with me today but my emotions are all over the place. I feel so moody but I don't know why and I really want chocolate, and mac and cheese, and pizza would be good too. Yeah ooey, gooey, super cheesy pizza followed by a big slice of triple chocolate cake.

"Francesca!" my dad snapped, ripping the phone away. "You know I've been trying to be lenient with you because of what your aunt did but that is no excuse for your atrocious, obstinate, outlandish, egregious..."

I rolled my eyes. Good Lord, here we go with the vocabulary lesson again. I will never need word-of-the-day toilet paper or a Page-a-Day calendar to expand my lexicon thanks to my dad's verbose lectures.

"OW!" my dad smacked my thigh hard while I wasn't looking.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, piccola ragazza (little girl)," Dad huffed.

He's pretty annoyed with me still, but I don't care right now. I mean, I know I should but he's just really irritating me. Like leave me the f alone already. Jeez! Can't a girl get some peace?

"Francesca!" he barked again. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yeah, Dad, I get it alright. Can I have my phone back now?"

"Unbelievable!" My dad threw his hands up in the air in disgust with my apparently appalling attitude. "No! I'm through arguing with you, piccola ragazza (little girl). I'll be holding onto your phone until I feel you've earned back the privilege of owning one. Now go to your room."

"UGGHHH!" I stomped my foot and stormed out, shouting, "You're being so ridiculous right now."

I ran up to my room and face planted on my bed, screaming into my pillow a litany of the injustices I'd just endured during my discussion with my father. Once I came up for air, I decided to raid my secret stash of candy. I need chocolate, stat. Two Twix bars, one Snickers, and two Reese's peanut butter cups later, I was still craving something but I didn't know what. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I was disgusted by my bloated belly, greasy complexion and stringy matted frizzy-ass hair.

Maybe I'll feel better if I take a shower I thought, as I trudged my pudgy ass into the bathroom. As I sat on the toilet, I noticed a dark stain on my underwear but it wasn't like fudge stripes, it was redder and too far up to have come from my backdoor. Touching it, I noticed it was still wet. Ew, it's like blood. Wiping quickly, I stood up and just about passed out seeing more blood on the toilet paper and in the water. OMG! I'M DYING! That's the only explanation. This has to be some kind of fatal disease where you bleed from your eyes and ears and private parts.

I stuffed some toilet paper in a pair of clean underpants and tugged them on as I hurried to inspect myself in the mirror. My eyes are a little bloodshot but that could just be from crying earlier. I checked my nose and ears and they seem okay. Maybe it's a disease that progresses relatively slowly. Hopefully I have enough time to say my goodbyes. Oh my gosh! What if Aunt Lexie isn't back in time? She'll miss my funeral. On the plus side, I'll get to see my mom and grandfather again when I get to heaven. Poor Dad will be crushed though. I mean, I'm his whole world. Uncle EJ will probably throw a big party to celebrate getting rid of me for good.

I better go break the news to Dad so he has time to make all the arrangements. Maybe I can help him pick out my coffin. He'd probably gravitate toward something dark and shiny but I'm leaning more toward a light, oak type finish with some pink and gold trim. Ooh, and it could have a pretty pastel pink satin lining inside with a little beaded white pillow. Hopefully I'll still look good enough to have an open casket for the visitation. If this disease ravages me, I don't want anybody to see me looking all gross and hideous. I don't think whatever kind of makeup they use on dead people would be able to cover that up.

My dad was still in the study so I knocked on the door and waited.

"Come in," he called out. When I walked in, he did a double take as he looked up from his desk. "Claire, what are you doing down here? I thought I sent you to your room, piccola ragazza (little girl)."

"You did, Dad, but I thought you'd want to know that your only daughter is dying," I stated flatly, trying to let the guilt sink in.

Peering up at me over his reading glasses, my dad questioned, "This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact I still have your phone. Now would it?" Without letting me answer, he continued, "Because I'm pretty sure, despite what you might believe, being without a cellphone won't kill you, mia figlia (my daughter)."

"For your information, Father, I'm slowly bleeding to death so you might want to call the funeral home and get the ball rolling." I stood with my arms crossed and a smug look of satisfaction on my face. He'll be sorry he was so mean to me earlier.

"Bleeding to death? What are you talking about, Claire? Are you hurt?" my dad asked, getting flustered, or maybe he was just frustrated. Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference.

"I can't show you where I'm bleeding, Father, cuz it's private, but I'm not lying."

"What do you mean it's private?" my dad asked, giving me his full attention now as he wrinkled his brow in confusion.

"I mean I can't show you where the blood is coming from because it's in my bathing suit area." I rolled my eyes at my father's ignorance. Gosh, doesn't he get it? I know my aunt would understand if she was here cuz she's a doctor for one thing but more so cuz she's a woman. Men are just so dense sometimes. I didn't think I'd have to draw him a picture. Ick! I shuddered just thinking about that.

"You're not dying, idiot, you just got your period," my uncle offered his unsolicited advice from the doorway, as he listened in on our conversation.

"My period?" I asked, in shock. I'd heard my mom talk about having her period a couple times when I was little and I think Samantha complained about it once too when I really wanted to go horseback riding at her house and she didn't want to but she wouldn't tell me why at first. "Ohhh," I said, coming to the realization of what was really going on. That makes a lot more sense than me contracting some rare tropical disease, since I hardly ever leave the house.

"My little baby's growing up," Dad said, pinching my cheek and pulling me onto his lap. "I'll have one of the maids pick up the supplies you'll need right away, sweetpea. Don't you worry about a thing."

"So does this mean I can get pregnant now?" I asked.

"NO!!!" my dad and uncle both shouted simultaneously.