The first day of fall

"Oh, great," I said loudly. Someone had slammed the bathroom door, and the picture had fallen down again. Probably Tom in a temper, I thought.

A few minutes later, I saw my father go into his room. He asked me to help him, so I saved my Brave New World report and went to see what he needed.

He was lying down on the bed, feeling his pulse. When he saw me, he said that he'd fallen and could I please get him some tissue paper. I went into the bathroom -- blood all over the floor.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I fainted," he said, his voice slow and dazed-sounding. "I was going to lie down, and then I guess I fell. I don't remember hitting anything, but I must have cut myself on something." He pressed the toilet paper to his forehead, just above his right eye.

I made sure he was alright, and I cleaned up some of the mess so my brother wouldn't freak out if he went into the bathroom. I then did what anyone would: called for Mom. She was grocery shopping with a family friend; amazingly, her cell was on. I must have sounded like an idiot though.

Me: Hello?
Mom: Hello?
Me: I'm calling Mom. Wait...you're alright? I'm calling her. Mom? Well, do you want to speak to her?
Mom: Hi? Are you talking to me?
Me: No. Dad says he's alright.
Mom: What??
Me: He fainted in the bathroom and hit his head on the sink. There was blood everywhere. He's says he's alright though.
Mom: What??
Me: Well, he sounds a lot better.
Mom: Okay, we're coming back.
Me: He says it's not important.
Mom: I'm still coming home.
Me: Eh? Oh...good.

Dad, who was really sounding better, began explaining to me that this is why we have eyebrows. Also if I ever felt like I was going to faint, I should lie down and not get up for awhile, because if I tried to get up I'd just faint again. Then he asked me to time him taking his pulse, and concluded that it was nearly back to normal. I fetched him some water, although he assured me that it had very little to do with that. Apparently it was only about the second time in his life that this had happened.

After Mom came home, it was a bit like a mystery novel in which I was subjected to interrogation. How much blood was there? (A fair amount, but it always looks like more.) How do you know he hit the sink? (Well, there was blood on it.) Did you hear anything? (Yes, but I wrote it off as Tom being weird.) Dad started diagnosing himself, Tom wised up and came in to inquire if what he had was contagious, and I went downstairs to talk to the bird.

My poor father is much better now. My mother says that no-one had better pull this stunt again, because she's had quite enough of this fainting business. I finished two of my summer reading reports.

Either I'm a perfectionist with an eye, or I'm self-absorbed enough to think I am.