Page 9 of Lose You to Find Me

I pick up the items, trying to smile half-heartedly. “Giving away free things isn’t exactly smart business, Bea. I may not know a lot, but college has taught me that much.”

Her smile grows. “One day, you’ll see that paying it forward when somebody needs it most will get you a lot further in life than holding out a hand in expectation.”

Taking that into consideration, I walk out and head down the street to where my truck is parked outside the hardware store.

I’m almost relieved when I see nobody besides Ronny inside. It’ll give me time to work on homework before going through receipts, monthly bills, and inventory. That’s something Mom usually does, but she spends most of her time at the hospital these days, and I don’t feel right bringing anything to her while she’s there. When she offers, I always tell her I’ve got it under control.

“Slow day?” I ask, voice hopeful as I drop my things behind the counter.

Ronny shrugs. He’s thirty with a baby on the way. The second one. He says this job on top of the full-time gig he has at the post office will help them bring in extra income, which is a big reason why Mom agreed to add him to the payroll. She’s a softy, especially when babies are involved. “Been quiet most of the day, but you know that can change at any time.”

When he’s gathering his things and clocking out at the computer by the register, I say, “I hope that’s not the case.”

He slaps my shoulder and squeezes once. “I do too, man. I talked to your mom about adding on another couple of shifts to help a little more. I’ll see you tomorrow, and we can talk about the schedule.”

I nod. “Thanks, Ron. Tell Ana I said hi.”

When I’m by myself, I take out my notebooks and personal laptop to begin working on assignments I’m behind on for school. If I don’t submit a few of the assignments loading on my screen, my GPA will drop significantly. Again.

Not even five minutes into the paper I’ve pulled up, the bell to the front door rings and three older men, including Phil the fixer-upper, walk in, asking for help picking out the proper supplies for their plumbing project.

Underneath the counter, my hands squeeze together before unclenching. I have to take a long, deep breath and an even longer sip of coffee before standing up and offering the smile Dad told me to form even on the bad days.

“Follow me,” I tell them.

*

“You look likehell, son” is how Dad greets me a few days later, his voice raspy but his dark eyes glinting with humor.

My lips kick up as I close the door. “I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be my line,” I tell him, pulling a chair up to his bedside and looking at the tray of food in front of him. “You’ve barely eaten. Did Mom get you anything from the deli like you wanted? I can call and see—”

He waves me off. “We both know Gretchen’s closed for the night. I’m not hungry, anyway. The new medicine has made it hard to eat. Everything tastes metallic still.” That was one of the symptoms of the old medicine he was on. Apparently, it hasn’t gone away like it was supposed to. “If I’m going to get good food, I want to actually enjoy it.”

My eyes go to the door for a moment before glancing back at the food he barely picked at. There’s applesauce, a favorite of his, and a sad-looking sandwich that I can’t blame him for not touching. “Mom is going to ask for a report as soon as I get back,” I remind him, picking up the little container of applesauce and passing it to him after opening it. “And I’d rather not lie to her. I was raised better than that, remember?”

Those frail, chapped lips lift at the corners for a brief moment. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

A lump forms in my throat as I watch him wrap his skinny fingers around the plastic container and pick up the spoon resting on the tray. “I know I am. Speaking of, would you mind going over some homework with me if you’re up for it?”

That perks him up. “Which class?”

I’m in two courses this summer until the fall semester starts in a couple of weeks. I only get a week and a half off before diving back into a full semester of coursework. “Business Ethics. Neilson had us submit a business proposal a few days ago and gave us some feedback when we got them back today. He said he’ll give us extra points toward our next exam grade if we tweak the proposals based on his suggestions and resubmit. I could use your advice on a few different ideas I had that could go well with his comments.”

I don’t tell him that I really need the extra points. I’d like him to think I’m still prospering so he isn’t worrying about more than he needs to. Dad may not agree with my choice to go to school for my master’s in business administration, but he supports me regardless.

He watches me carefully before focusing on the food in his shaky hands. “I don’t think much needs to change at the store. If it’s not broke, don’t fix it.”

I figured he’d say as much, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t certain upgrades that could benefit the business that this project could be a good outline for. “I’m not planning on doing anything extravagant. Just a few—”

“I’m not even dead yet, and you’re already trying to change everything,” he says, cutting me off in a sharp, uncharacteristic tone.

We both fall to silence. I feel my heart drop into the bottom of my rib cage while he heaves a long sigh and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, closing his eyes and setting his applesauce down. One of his fingers scratches his temple. “I don’t know why I said that.”

The doctor said this could happen.

I’ve noticed little changes in him ever since the tumor was found. His temper is shorter, and his mood swings happen in the blink of an eye. The six-foot-five man who’s nothing more than skin and bones lying in front of me used to be a giant teddy bear. He rarely raised his voice unless it was justified and nearly never lost his temper.

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