Page 84 of Lovingly Restored

“I dunno what strings you pulled or who you sucked off, but you got it done, man.” Berg claps me on the back, a delivery truck beeping its way down the driveway.

“That’s, uh, vivid, man. Thanks for the image.” I shake my head at him.

I might have begged and borrowed, but I didn’t steal, and I hadn’t sucked anyone off to get the delivery in time. It doesn’t matter how I did it, just that it arrived, and that if we bust our butts, our current project stays on track. I nearly screwed this one up by fumbling an order, but I called in some favours and saved my ass. Even if everything else in my life is crumbling, at least this is solid.

Pure embarrassment has kept me away from Mummo’s house the last couple weeks, but I spoke with her on the phone a few days ago, and she told me to visit her today after work. I’ve offered several apologies, but I need to make one in person, tail tucked between my legs, before she’ll regain any respect for me. If I had more guts, I’d find a way to give Ashlyn a face-to-face apology too. The only good thing that came out of Ashlyn answering the phone that day from Breezy Shores is that my dad didn’t get the message and Mummo lost the spot. She’s still at home with a nurse, but it might not be like that for long, and I don’t want to think about it. I rush up the porch stairs and knock, deciding to not test my luck by using my key. I snap my fingers as I strain to hear footsteps, or anything, inside.

“C’mon.”

Impatience wins, and I let myself in, but the house is quiet.

“Hello?”

I think back to the day I found Ashlyn in the kitchen, scaring the crap out of her. I chuckle, but the sweet memory is overshadowed at the reminder I’ll never see her in the kitchen again. It only takes a moment to confirm nobody is home. Mummo specifically told me to visit after work today. After locking up, I ease into the porch swing.

“Hey, everything okay with your grandma?”

I find the source of the voice, a dark-haired guy about my age on the sidewalk walking a big black dog.

“Uh, hi. Why do you ask?”

He twists with the dog leash in his hand. “Ambulance ripped out of here not too long ago. I heard the sirens.”

An ambulance? Fuck. I get off the swing so fast I lose my balance. Recovering, I jump off the porch stairs, jogging to my truck.

“I take it you’re Jackson?” I call as I climb in.

“Yeah, I live next door.”

Guess nosy fucking neighbours are good for something.

I rub my thumb across the back of one of Mummo’s hands, the one without the pulse oximeter and the IV that delivers her fluids and antibiotics. My lower back throbs from sitting in a chair at her bedside all night. I drove like an asshole to reach her yesterday. When I arrived she was asleep in an emergency room bay, oblivious to my presence. A few hours later she was admitted with acute pneumonia which, the doctor explained, is very serious in a woman her age. A sharp rap signals the arrival of the day nurse.

“Morning. Here to do a few checks on your grandmother,” she says.

I watch her work, efficiently taking Mummo’s temperature and blood pressure readings.

“Should I open these?” She gestures to the curtains.

I shrug and grunt.

“Let’s let a little sunshine in.”

Yeah, cause that’ll help.

I shade my face to prepare for the unwanted light, but the sky is angry grey and rain streams down the windows. My phone’s almost dead, no sign of a message yet from my father. His assistant told me he was on a trip. I clench my fists. He left town and didn’t even have the decency to give her new nurse my number. What if she needed someone? What if she needed me? I stand to stretch, walking to the window with the view of a sprawling parking lot. My work clothes smell and I’m starving, but I can’t leave. A deep rattling cough has my ass back in my chair so fast, taking Mummo’s hand back in mine.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” I try reassure her.

She opens her mouth, and I strain to hear if she’s speaking or simply trying to breathe. Beneath the thin blue sheets and blankets, her legs move restlessly. If I get a chance to leave, I’ll bring her slippers and quilt from home. Mummo’s eyelids twitch before her eyes open.

I squeeze her hand. “Mummo. I’m here.”

“Little One.”

I smile at the sound of her voice, but a wave of emotion steals it off my lips.

“Hi, Mummo, I’m here. I’m so sorry about everything that happened with Ashlyn. I wish…I wish I could take it back.”

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