"Do you know what you're saying?" he said. "That maybe you're giving up your current position? You want that?"
"I don't really have a choice," I said. "This is my parents we're talking about here, not some goddamned sick dog or something."
"And what are we supposed to do while you're gone? Who's supposed to cover for you?"
"That's not my problem."
"It sure as goddamned hell is your problem, Collins. This is your department. You answer for it."
"So I should what?" I exploded. "Just say, 'Hey, sorry Mom and Dad. Can't help out here. Hope you don't lose everything and all. Be sure to write at Christmas. Oh, and Mom? You get well, Sweetie.' Huh? Is that what you're sayin' I should do here?"
"I don't really give a s**t what you do, Collins," he snapped, his voice getting harder. "I'm just
