Page 97 of Friend Me

“It is.” Her brown eyes might have been soft, but her firm jaw told me she wouldn’t budge on this.

“Think about it,” she said. “Go visit some facilities. I’ve made a list.” She handed me a printout, and I took it. I folded it twice and slipped it into my back pocket.

Tears prickled in my eyes, and I blinked them away. I needed help. I knew that. But Dad and I had taken care of each other since my mother had died. How could I let go of him now when he needed me most?

Outside Dad’s room, I took a deep breath and rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans. I pushed the door open and walked inside.

“You’re back,” Jackson said too brightly as he jumped up from the chair.

Dad slipped his hand into the pocket of his pajama shirt and grinned at me. “Sunshine! Did you have a nice walk?”

“Yes, Dad.” I returned his smile. “I’ll just take Jackson to the elevators. Be right back.”

I took Jackson’s arm and returned to the hallway. As we strolled, arm-in-arm, to the elevator bank, I said, “The social worker says he needs to go to a—to a nursing home.”

“Ah, Marlee. I’m sorry.” But he didn’t seem surprised.

“I’ll need a few more days off to sort things out. I’m going to have to sell our house.”

“Whatever time you need. Ben’s found us a great temp. I wonder why you were always so cursed with the terrible ones?”

“Just unlucky, I guess.” We stopped in front of the elevators. “Thanks for being understanding. I’ll come back to work as soon as I can. No more than a week.”

“Can I give you some advice?”

I looked up into his chocolate-colored eyes. “Lay it on me.”

“In the immortal words of Ferris Bueller, ‘Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.’ Taking care of your dad is an admirable thing to do. But you can’t forget to live your own life.”

“Thanks.” Tyler had tried to tell me the same thing. They were right. I had a good job, and soon I’d find a place to live and start the next phase of my life. Even though some of my other relationships were giant trash fires, I had good friends. And I could still visit Dad every day and know he was well cared-for.

As the elevator button lit up, he said, “By the way, there’s something I need to tell you about your dad.”

My heart raced, and my palms went clammy. “What’s that?”

“He cheats at cards.”

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