Page 54 of Ebbing Tides
“Okay,” I said, both terrified of having her in the house I had grown up in and excited to bring a little of her light into that dark, terrible place. “Come by for dinner.”
She smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling with the delight of having gotten her way. “What should I bring?”
“Nothing,” I replied. “Just you and your boys.”
***
“I don’t want this!” Dad protested angrily, pushing the damp cloth away.
The bathing aide, Helen, had been coming once a week for the past nine months. She was used to his quick temper, and she always approached with kindness and patience. Eventually, he would relent with some negotiation. Everything but his hair, only his arms and legs … things like that, and we’d collectively agree for the sake of getting him at least somewhat clean and a little more comfortable. But today, he was angrier than usual. More firm in his position to remain lying in his own filth.
“Dad,” I finally said, exhausted from witnessing this hour-long battle, “you need to get cleaned up.”
“Bullshit,” he fired at me, swatting at Helen’s hand when she made another feeble attempt.
She looked at me helplessly. She was younger—maybe in her late twenties—but I swore after dealing with my father week after week for months, she had aged by at least a decade.
“The sores on your back and ass are getting worse,” I said, not caring to watch my language. “They’re going to get infected if we don’t get them clean.”
“Who gives a fuck? What the hell do you want me around for? You’ve wanted me dead since your whore mother pushed you out of her—”
“Knock it off,” I scolded, tightening my grip on the footboard of his hospital bed. “You’re gonna let Helen wash you up.”
Dad smirked, his hatred toward me igniting a flame in his dulling eyes. “Listen to you. Thinking you have some sort of power over me.”
“I’m not stupid enough to believe that,” I replied, staring right into his eyes. Wishing I could find something there besidesvile, unprovoked loathing. “But I don’t want you to die from some festering wound that you refused to have cleaned because you were too stubborn.”
He tipped his head, his smile broadening with wicked condescension. “Are you saying youloveme, Maxwell?”
“No.”Yes. “I’m saying I don’t want that shit on my conscience.”
I addressed Helen. “If he continues to give you a hard time, you can leave. I’ll wash him myself.”
“The hell you will,” Dad responded before turning to Helen. “All he’s ever wanted is to kill me.”
Rolling my eyes, I turned from his bed to wander out of the room and toward the kitchen, where I had dinner in the oven.
After leaving the cemetery, I had hurried back to Dad’s house to unsuccessfully get some sleep, only to wake up earlier than I would’ve liked and run out to the grocery store. I texted Melanie, asking her what her kids liked to eat, knowing damn well the average kid changed their palate more often than they changed their clothes, and she replied with a few options while making sure to insist that I didn’t need to “go nuts.” But she had to know I was going to, despite what she’d said, and I bought everything she’d said Luke, Danny, and CJ liked to eat. Chicken nuggets. Fries. Macaroni and cheese. Fish sticks. I even grabbed a box of cereal because Melanie had joked and said that, every so often, CJ flat-out refused to eat anything that wasn’t shaped like an O and didn’t come from a box.
She had apologized profusely for her kids being such picky pains in the ass, but little did she know, I loved it. I relished wandering through the frozen foods, tossing into the cart childhood staples I hadn’t needed to buy in a decade. I’d missedit, all those little innocent things I’d nearly started to forget, and I loved her for giving me a chance—areason—to remember.
Now I checked the clock. It was just a little after three thirty. The roasted chicken was in the oven, the potatoes were diced and boiling, and the snow peas were sizzling in a sauce of butter and herbs. In just a few minutes, I’d toss the nuggets, fish sticks, and fries in the air fryer and set another pot of water to boil for the macaroni and cheese.
Everything was right on schedule and going according to plan, yet my gut churned with butterflies, and my skin prickled with nervous energy.
I’d told Melanie to be here by four to give us time to eat without rushing before I had to get to work by six thirty. But I hadn’t anticipated Dad putting up such a fight to get cleaned up, and now, I was worried that battle would continue into when she and her kids were here.
He was one to protest, sure, but this combative stance against the aide was a little unlike him. I expected that type of attitude toward me, but someone else?
It was strange.
Lido stretched his way into the kitchen, his face contorting with a loud yawn. I grunted a chuckle as he lumbered toward me, pressing his flank against my knee.
“Hey, buddy,” I muttered as I pulled out my phone.
I dialed Lucy’s number. She was the last one other than me to be with Dad, but hadn’t given me much of a report after she left.
I rubbed my palm against Lido’s head while waiting for my sister to answer.
