Page 56 of A Taste of Chardonnay

“I appreciate it.”

“And we appreciate you,” Ray said. “Ron isn’t the same man he was when you were a kid. He’s a decent man now, but we are fully aware of the monster he once was. The fact you’ve stepped up for him?” Ray slammed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “You’re a good man, Brady. Don’t ever forget that.”

With a nod, I stepped back. Receiving compliments was always awkward for me. “Thanks. I’ll get a schedule together by the end of the day. We can talk when you pick Ron up.”

“Sounds good.”

I said goodbye to the two vets and made my way to the hospital.

I turned to Jack. “I’m going in. I’m going to leave the truck running. I don’t know how long I’m going to be. Can you please behave yourself?”

Jack tilted his head, but I knew better than to trust that innocent stare. I reached into the glove box and retrieved a bone. Jack went to snatch it from my hand, but I held it just out of his reach. “Promise you’ll behave.”

Jack barked, and I took that as an agreement. I handed over the bone, then headed into the hospital. I made my way to Ron’s room and was happy when I arrived he was being discharged. The nurse was going over some things with him, and I slipped into the room.

Ron caught my eye, and I swear a smile flashed across his weathered features. “Marcy, this is my son, Brady.”

“Brady, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“He’s single,” Ron said, and I narrowed my gaze at him. When the fuck did he decide it was necessary to tell people that? Besides, I wasn’t single. Or maybe I was. Chardonnay and I hadn’t had that talk. We’d been too busy doing other things.

“Don’t listen to him,” I said.

“I got everything I need from you, Ron. Thank you, and good luck with everything.” Marcy, a brunette, who was probably about ten years younger than me, turned to me. “I can go over the rest with you,” she said.

I followed her toward the nurses’ station. She looked at the papers in her hand.

“We’ve started him on a combination therapy that combines the benefits of a cholinesterase inhibitor and NMDA receptor antagonists.”

I stared at her, trying to understand what she was saying, but I had nothing. “What does that mean?”

“Cholinesterase inhibitor increases a chemical in the brain called acetylcholine, and that chemical helps with memory and learning. The NMDA receptor regulates glutamate, which is another chemical involved in learning and memory. This should help him with focus, memory, and reasoning. You need to make sure he takes these. He’ll need to take the Cholinesterase inhibitor at bedtime, and the NMDS receptor antagonists twice daily, so once with breakfast and the other before bed. I’m also going to prescribe a sleep aid to prevent any disturbed sleep cycles. Sleep is important.”

She might as well have been speaking Latin. I pinched the bridge of my nose, wondering how the fuck I was going to remember all of this. Maybe I should write this down. If Chardonnay was here, she’d have her emergency notebook out, jotting every single thing.

Marcy handed me a bunch of papers. “These are the prescriptions. It’s all written down here.”

“Thank you,” I said, feeling slightly relieved.

“I also included some phone numbers for you regarding setting up a nurse and dealing with his insurance. They might give you the runaround, but be persistent.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. He’s good to go now. Good luck.”

Did I look like I needed luck? I sure as fuck felt like I did.

A knock at the door pulled me out of my book, and I placed my Kindle down, wondering who the hell was bothering me. I hurried to the door, hoping whatever sibling was knocking would be quick and I could get back to my book as soon as possible.

I opened the door, ready to say something smart to one of my siblings, but instead my mouth snapped shut as I stared at Brady. His hair was sticking out of his hairband. The lines around his eyes were more defined. The brightness of his green eyes dimmed as he stood, radiating defeat.

I took his hand, pulled him inside, and shut the door. I guided him to my kitchen and pointed to the stool while I got his bottle of whiskey. I poured him a glass and pushed it toward him.

“You have another bottle of my whiskey.”

“Franc left it here. It’s good. I wouldn’t give it back to him. Figured he could just get another bottle.”

He smiled before taking a sip.

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