Page 19 of No One Else

Well, that’s something. Eager to see me again.

Or just eager to get the project done? Maybe she thinks the sooner we finish it, the sooner we don’t have to spend extra time together.

I head to the kitchen, frustrated with my brain’s inability to focus on the positive. I slam the fridge door a little harder than needed getting the leftovers from dinner out to snack on, startling Dad awake.

He shifts in his recliner, blinking his eyes. Well, shit. Now I feel guilty for that too. It’s hard enough for him to sleep, now I have to wake him up on the rare occasion he falls asleep without having to take any pain medication?

“Sorry, Dad.”

“Oh, no problem. I just dozed off for a second.” He peers more closely at me from across the room. “What’s wrong, son?”

I huff out a laugh. What hasn’t been wrong lately? “You got a leather jacket I can have?” I ask sarcastically.

He scratches at his stubble, noticeably more gray now than even this time last year. “I think I still have my old one,” he smiles. “Got it back when I was dating your mother.”

A pang goes through my heart at the mention of Mom, but I focus on the first part of his sentence. “You do? I was just joking.”

“Yeah,” he drawls. “Thought I was quite the hellraiser wearing that thing.”

“Can I see it?”

“Sure.” He grabs his cane and hobbles up out of his chair and toward his bedroom. I hover close behind, always worried he’ll fall on the tiled areas.

He flicks on the overhead light in his room and heads to the closet. My eyes linger over Mom’s clothes still hanging on the right side of the small walk-in area. Even after seven years, he hasn’t been able to bring himself to get rid of them.

He reaches up over his head to the top of the shelving unit running the length of the back wall, pushing aside a couple of boxes to uncover a worn brown lump. He hauls it down, unfolding it to reveal a leather jacket, the material cracked in a few places but overall in good condition.

“I remember this,” I say slowly, taking it from him. “You wore it to the air show that one year. I ate a bunch of cotton candy and got sick.”

“That you did,” he grins, clapping me on the back. “God, I haven’t seen this thing in forever.” He strokes the sleeve, his gaze going distant, probably lost in some kind of memory.

He catches me staring at him and smiles again. “Try it on.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s not doing me any good sitting in here. Besides, it’s cold out. You need something heavier than that hoodie you’ve been wearing. I should have offered it to you before.”

“I doubt it’ll fit me.” Dad used to be a bear of a man, built like a lumberjack. I thought he was the strongest guy in the world. It’s part of what makes seeing him the way he is now so hard. I expect the thing to swallow me as I put an arm through the sleeve, but it’s actually just right.

“It fits you fine,” he says softly as I get it into place, zipping it up. “How’s it feel?”

“Great,” I tell him honestly, rolling my shoulders, the fit just loose enough that I can move comfortably, but it still looks fitted. “I can’t believe I’m the same size you were. That’s crazy. I always thought you were, I don’t know, larger than life.”

Guilt courses through me as soon as the words are out of my mouth, calling attention to how much his physique has changed since the accident.

“Well, now it’s your turn.” He claps me on the back again, his smile wide, same hazel eyes as mine crinkling at the corners.

My shoulders drop in relief. I should have known he wouldn’t take offense.

“Thanks, Dad.”

***

“NICE JOB, HEATHER.You kicked ass today.”

She bends over slightly to rest her hands on her knees, breath still sawing in and out like she just ran a marathon. “I know,” she manages to get out, her face red with exertion. She wipes the sweat beading down her temple away with the back of her arm and into her blonde hair, now matted and messy.

I give her a minute to collect herself, then lead her through some basic stretches to cool down. She’s my last client of the night, so once I’m done with her, I’m free to go.

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