Page 69 of High Density

“Come on, let’s get you to bed. You’ll feel better after a nap, it’s been a busy morning.”

I lead her to the bedroom and have her sit on the edge of the bed so I can take off the slip-on shoes and stretchy pants Ma packed for her. Then I tuck her in, leaving her pain meds and a glass of water on the nightstand, and head for the bathroom.

My shower is small, but the pressure is good, and it feels amazing to let the water beat down on my stiff muscles. It wasn’t particularly comfortable trying to catch a few winks on a visitor’s chair in the hospital, but I’m feeling a fuckload better when I walk out of the bathroom twenty minutes later.

I check in on Janey, who is out like a light, and head for the kitchen. There I discover my mother hasn’t just cleaned up; she’s even restocked my fridge. A good thing, since what I had in my fridge yesterday is probably spoiling in the back of Jackson’s truck.

Grabbing a beer, I snag my phone off the kitchen table and head out the sliding doors to the deck I built onto the trailer home a few years ago. I drop down on the Adirondack chair and dial my mother’s number.

“Thanks, Ma.”

“She okay?”

She ignores my thanks and responds with a question of her own. Ma doesn’t do well with gratitude or compliments, but I want to bet she’s secretly pleased.

“She’s okay. Sleeping right now.”

“Good. Best thing for her. I’ll bring some dinner over later.”

“No need. You left plenty of supplies in the fridge, I can throw something together. It’ll give me something to do.”

At least in part, but mostly, I want to be the one looking after her. With a woman like Janey, I imagine I won’t get the opportunity that often, so I’m grabbing this one. I’m not sure how good I’ll be with words to let her know I care about her, but I can let my actions speak for me.

“Never could sit still for very long,” Ma observes dryly, before adding, “and, by the way, your sister called this morning. She says you’re not answering your phone.”

I’d ignored two calls from Una since talking to her on Wednesday and told her to first make things right with Ma. It’s Saturday today, I’m actually surprised she didn’t hold out longer. My sister can be very stubborn.

“Is that the only reason she called?” I probe.

“No,” Ma admits. “We talked. We’ll probably need to talk more, but it’s a start.”

Yeah, you don’t erase years of strained interaction with one conversation. I’m not exactly a master in the art of communication myself, but I’m making an effort to at least be real and speak the words I feel.

“I’m glad for that. I’ll give her a call tomorrow.”

“You do that.”

I smile when the line abruptly goes dead.

Taking a sip of my beer, I stretch my legs out and slide down in the chair. I take in the fresh air, and force myself to enjoy the moment. I have a beautiful woman safe in my bed, the warm sun on my face, a cold beer in my hand, and one of the best views in the valley.

A small window of serenity in the chaos of the past few days.

Janey

It takesme a moment to realize I’m in JD’s bed.

Then I’m reminded why when pain washes over me, along with a wave of nausea. I immediately reach for the water and the bottle of pain meds I didn’t think I would need.

I’ve always heard them say the first day after an injury or surgery is the worst. By that rule, tomorrow should be better. Thank God. I’m not a very good patient and I have too much to do.

“You’re awake,” JD says, walking into the room just as I’m popping one of the pills he left on the nightstand.

He sits down on the edge of the mattress. “Guess I don’t have to ask how you’re feeling.”

“Best not,” I advise him, swallowing down the medication with a swig of water. “How long did I sleep for?”

“Almost two hours. I was just coming in to see if you’re ready for something to eat.”

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