Page 17 of For Fox Sake

Maybe it’s the odd comfort of his presence, maybe it’s Mia’s laughing eyes, maybe it’s because he’s lost a sister too, or maybe it’s because I’ve been alone and shouldering so much weight for so long... Whatever the reason, my mouth opens and words pour out.

“It’s been so hard since she died. Her death was the worst pain imaginable. But I couldn’t let it affect me, let alone overwhelm me. I have a daughter to think about. Then Mom got sick and I couldn’t take care of her alone. Her memory started to fail, her moods became erratic, she started lashing out, getting physical, and then she needed dialysis frequently. I had to admit her to the skilled nursing hospice care here and it’s just been... it’s been so much, and it never gets easier, only harder. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

The last words emerge on a breath like my frustrations have run out of steam right as my lungs have run out of air.

I shut my eyes. I can’t believe I completely unloaded on this poor guy.

But then his fingers squeeze mine and my eyes fly open.

“After I lost my twin, my dad got sick.”

I swallow, hard. Not sure if I should ask him to elaborate or wait for him to speak. Thankfully, I don’t have to consider my options long.

“He had prostate cancer. I was his primary caregiver until the end. It was awful. But I had something to focus on other than... the loss. When he passed, I didn’t do a great job coping with everything that had happened in my life. I turned to alcohol and used it to escape, to avoid dealing with my grief. Which meant my family had to pick up the pieces of all my mistakes. Life can be super shitty. But you’re still here. You’re present. You’re taking good care of your daughter. You’re stronger than you realize.”

We turn toward each other at the same time, our eyes locking, as if the movements are choreographed.

I’m not even sure how to respond to this strange, surprising, and vulnerable conversation, but then something strikes me. “You’re only staying in Dull for three weeks. But you got a job here? I didn’t think they hired temps.”

He clears his throat and pulls his hand from mine, the intimate connection severed. “Um, I rented another place longer term that’s cheaper.”

“Where are you staying?”

He waves a hand. “I can’t remember the address. It’s in the west part of town.”

“Oh.” There are at least a dozen different rental properties and apartments on that side. I guess that makes sense.

“I’ve got to get back to work.” Jake gives me a tight smile.

I frown at his back. That was weird.

Maybe he doesn’t want to be seen slacking since he just started this job.

A hand touches my shoulder and I spin around. It’s Bernie.

“Hey, they just brought your mom lunch and Ari wants to help her eat. She’s having a good day.”

Mom. Right. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

Still a little discombobulated from the whole interaction, I follow Bernie down the hall and into Mom’s room.

She’s sitting up in bed and smiling. Her gray hair is cut short for ease of care, and she’s wearing the pink flannel pajamas Ari picked out for her for Christmas.

Since she’s a long-term resident, the room isn’t as stale as a normal hospital room, even though it has all the same bells and whistles. The walls are a sterile white, and the floors are the same squeaky linoleum from the hall, but she has framed pictures of family on a side table, a soft throw blanket on the guest chair, and a tall lamp in the corner casting a golden glow, counteracting the frosty LED lights in the ceiling.

Some of the tension eases from my shoulders.

She’s happy. It’s a good day.

Ari is sitting on the edge of her bed by the fold-out tray, while next to her, Bernie carefully opens the pudding cup.

Mom beams at her. “My Mia. Such a pretty girl.”

Ari glances at me and then smiles brightly at her grandmother.

We’ve had a lot of discussions about how Grandma is a little bit like Dori and has a hard time holding on to memories. How sometimes she gets scared because she can’t remember and she might get angry. Ari has witnessed her agitation, but it’s never been directed at her, and we remove her from the situation quickly when it happens.

The nurse, Nicole, pulls me to the side by the door, far enough away that we won’t distract Mom while she eats, but close enough to intervene if needed.

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