Page 2 of The Marriage Sham
“Well, are you just going to stand there staring at me?” My gaze flies to his, finding his eyes with their usual sparkle, a slight upturn to his mouth. He’s teasing me, just like old times. My stomach settles, and all is right in my world again.
“I was waiting for you to offer me a chair, but clearly you’re no gentleman,” I admonish him, the smile on my face giving away how happy I am to see him. Leaning over, I hug him with caution, feeling his guffaw in response.
Every pound he’s lost over the last year is etched across his face, his cheekbones sharper than I’ve ever seen. I kiss his cheek and observe his hair, thinner than before, combed neatly across his head.
“These nurses taking good care of you, Granddaddy?” I ask softly, hovering over him. I’d stayed away for a full twelve months. Now I can’t seem to back away and sit in the bedside chair, as if it’s too far from him. I rub at the ache in my chest, not sure whether I’m happy to see him teasing me, or sad to see how much he’s aged in just one short year. I’m worried about work, I’m worried about his chances of having another stroke, I’m worried about how I’ll arrange for someone to care for him.
But all that floats away when he smiles at me and waves his hand in the air between us, shooing me away. “Oh, sit down, girl. You don’t need to be on death watch quite yet.”
“Granddaddy!” I bark out a laugh, swallowing the sudden urge to sob. Logically, I know he’s teasing me, but I wonder how far from the truth his words really are.
His dry laugh turns into a thick cough. I grab the water from his bedside table and bring the straw to his dry lips. He takes a quick sip and turns his head away, the cough subsiding, but not before it depletes his energy. His eyes flutter closed and I sit, gently grabbing hold of his hand. I may never let go.
I observe his chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, the way his cheeks go slack as he rests. How did he get here so fast? In my mind, he’s still a vibrant, high energy man, taking his daily walk to the coffee shop in town to trade gossip with the townsfolk before coming back home and puttering around the property fixing things and generally making a mess.
A quiet sob escapes before I can force it down. The worry in my gut from my job takes a back seat to the worry flooding my whole system about the one man I’ve ever loved. He needs me. And come hell or high water, I’m going to be there for him.
The tears stream down my cheeks in silence, free to flow now that he doesn’t see them. Like a movie reel, my mind goes through all the memories of my childhood, the ones where he was front and center, the major character in each of my scenes. I have no idea what an around-the-clock nurse costs, but I’ll figure out a way to give him the best care possible. He did that for me, and now is my chance to return the favor.
The door to his room groans open along with a soft knock. I swipe at the tears on my cheeks, not one to display my emotions publicly. Plus, Granddaddy might wake up at the interruption, and I don’t want him to see me like that.
“Ms. Ledbetter? I’m Helen, the social worker assigned to your grandfather’s case. Do you have a minute?”
She dressed like we’re meeting casually for tea, her glasses hanging on a delicate chain around her neck, her practiced smile warm and friendly. My manners take over, and I stand to shake her hand, careful not to disrupt Granddaddy while moving away from his bed to discuss his care.
“Yes, ma’am, now is a good time.” I’m aware of wringing my hands, and know I’m giving away the fact that I’m nervous, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
She either doesn’t notice or is used to such behavior, continuing on with what she came to say. Her voice is hushed, the perfect tone for a hospital room, and I wonder if she talks like that at home too, simply out of habit.
“We have contracts with a couple nursing care facilities that have staff ready and able to come out to your grandfather’s home as soon as he’s discharged. You and he can meet a few of the ladies and see who he gets along with the most. Then we can talk about schedules for the caregivers and the physical therapists who will come visit, along with any medical equipment he’ll need there at the house.”
I stop her with the question front and center on my brain, the one I worry the most about. “I’m sorry. That sounds lovely, but how much would all that cost? As far as I know, Granddaddy only has his social security income, along with MediCare benefits. Would insurance cover everything?”
Her smile drops by degrees, the glasses going on and a file folder opening on her clipboard. She’s not meeting my gaze any longer, and the worry slams into me tenfold.
“Well now, I took a look at all that when he was admitted. It looks like it’ll cover about fifty percent of the caregiver costs, most of the medical equipment, and just a few initial physical therapy appointments. If you go with twenty-four hour care, which the doctor highly recommends, you’re looking at around two thousand dollars a month in out-of-pocket costs.”
She hands me a single sheet showing the costs, minus insurance. I zero in on the dollar amount on the bottom that we’d owe, the total of which is more than my rent payment in Atlanta. I have my own calculations going on in my head, and if I add this additional cost to what I’m putting away in savings, I’m still a thousand dollars in the hole every month. The buzzing inside my head intensifies.
I plaster that smile back on my face and thank her for her time. “I’ll take a look at all this and get back to you as soon as possible.” We shake hands and she leaves in a cloud of old lady perfume, not even realizing she just changed the very trajectory of my life.
It’s official.
Hell has frozen over.
I’m moving back to Love, Georgia, to take care of Granddaddy myself.
