Page 64 of Shame

There’re two eggs, two pieces of toast, sausage, and cut-up fruit.

Not having the energy to argue, I eat. I take small bites of this and that. Nibble on my toast. Before I know it, it’s gone.

“Hospital food will do that to you. Make you feel full without being full. Great way to lose weight, but not very healthy,” Irene says, taking my plate from me when it’s clear.

I rest my head on the table, the coolness of it settling me.

“Maybe you should take a nap,” she suggests.

I make a noncommittal groaning sound, not wanting to say words.

“Just on the couch,” she adds. “Relax, at least. I can handle the nurse when she comes by. She speaks my lingo, after all.”

Why napping on the couch is always better than napping in bed, I don’t know. But now that I think about it, I miss naps. I always loved naps. I took them as often as I could when I was younger. Even in high school, my friends would be out after school, but I wanted to come home and take a nap. Then I grew up and life got difficult and no more naps.

Yeah, a nap sounds good.

I drag myself into the living room and drop onto the couch. Irene comes in, throwing a blanket over me and handing me the remote. She smiles down at me, and I smile back.

“Thank you,” I say, my eyes already falling closed.

“Don’t mention it.” She winks, then heads back into the kitchen. Clanking around tells me she’s cleaning, but I focus on finding something to watch on TV.

I appreciate Irene more than I can explain. The other aids who help my father are great, but Irene is special. She’s more like a friend. She takes her job seriously and cares about her clients. I see it in the way she is with my dad, and not only him, but me too. She’s not here for me, yet she always is. I wonder if this is what it would have been like to have a mom.

In theory, two days off should be great. My last two days off were not great though. It was filled with worrying about Dad, dealing with Dad, getting Dad to calm down, getting Dad back to bed, getting Dad to eat, and… well, justDad.

I’m sure today will be much of the same, but I can’t stay home again. I need to work. But the worrying won’t change, that much I know.

The last thing I expect to see when I get into work is Kaison in the kitchen, doing the dishes. He smiles at me like everything is right in the world when I walk in, and I can’t help butsmile back. His happiness is infectious. There’s another guy, a younger one, in the office looking over the books again. I think they said his name was Noel? Or maybe Noah? I can’t remember.

I’ve hardly talked to Kaison, nothing more than a few texts back and forth. He asked how my father was. Asked how I was. Told me he missed me. I responded to him, trying to get the balls to tell him that we can’t do this because I just don’t have the energy. Any free time I have needs to be spent on my father. Certainly he’ll understand that, right?

“How’s your father?” he asks, dropping the door to the large dishwasher. He takes the towel that’s over his shoulder, wipes his hands, then puts it back and walks over to me.

“He was eating when I left, so that’s something. Called me Alice though, and that’s new.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and I can tell he really means that. You can always tell when someone is genuinely sorry or just saying it because that’s what you’re supposed to do.

Kaison doesn’t say anything he doesn’t mean. He doesn’t say things just because you’re supposed to. He speaks truthfully.

“So, since when does the owner do dishes?” I ask.

“Since he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty.” He frowns, looking at the sink. “Or clean.”

I laugh, then go to the locker room to put my things down and get ready for my shift that starts in ten minutes. It’s been a while since I did a lunch shift, and I appreciate being able to sleep in a little later this morning.

Tying my apron in the back, I head to the front and find Tyler bussing tables and both Hannah and Fia moving around the dining room.

“You heading out?” I ask Fia.

“In a few,” she answers, filling up the cups of water at her table.

I go to the computer, clock in, then check behind the counter to see if anything needs stocking. We’re supposed to do it after every shift, and I’m sure Fia will before she leaves because she always does, but if I’m not doing anything right now, I can help too.

Noting a few things we need, I head through the kitchen and all the way to the back stock room.

“Need some help?”

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