Page 94 of The Assist
“No promises.” He ruffles my hair as I pass. It doesn’t matter that I’m in my twenties now and he’s nearly thirty years of age. He still treats me like the baby of the family.
Once I’ve dropped my bag at the bottom of the stairs, I make my way into the lounge and sink down into the sofa, feeling the weight of the last few months press down all at once. Home always does that to me; peels back the layers until I’m just a kid again, sitting in this same spot, pretending the world was small enough to be safe.
“How’s Dad?” I ask, even though I’m scared to hear the answer.
Mum sighs as she moves toward the kitchen. “Same. Worse, maybe. He’s been forgetting little things. Where his keys are. What day it is. Got confused about the kettle last week… swore he didn’t know how to use it.”
Ben’s jaw ticks, like he’s holding back words.
I wrap my arms around myself. “And he agreed to the tests?”
Mum nods. “Reluctantly. But yes. Tomorrow morning.”
The silence that follows is heavy, like storm clouds settling over us.
Ben breaks it with a forced grin. “Right, so, Chinese takeaway or pizza? Mia, your pick.”
I manage a smile, grateful for the out. “Pizza. Extra mushrooms.”
Ben groans. “Disgusting.”
“Don’t be a child,” Mum says, smacking him lightly with a tea towel.
And just like that, we slip into the old rhythms; the teasing, the bickering, and pretending everything’s fine. But I feel the cracks under the surface with every beat.
That night, long after Mum’s gone to bed and Ben’s retreated to the guest room, I lie awake staring at the ceiling of my childhood bedroom. The posters of old bands still peeling at the corners, the wardrobe door doesn’t shut properly, and the radiator clanks every ten minutes like it’s alive. I used to think a monster lived in it when I was little.
I flip onto my side and grab my phone.
Mia: You awake?
The three dots pop up almost immediately.
Dylan: Always for you. You okay?
I hesitate, then type.
Mia: Can I call?
Before I can overthink it or he has a chance to answer, I hit the dial button.
Dylan picks up on the first ring. “Hey, beautiful.” The sound of his voice breaks me. Tears well up before I can stop them.
“Hey,” I manage, my throat tight.
There’s a beat of silence like he’s giving me room to breathe.
“You’re not okay,” he says gently.
“No.” I swipe at my eyes. “I don’t think I’m ready for this.”
“You don’t have to be ready. You just have to be there.”
“I know but,” I bite my lip hard, willing the tears to hold back. “He’s not the same. He’salreadynot the same.”
Dylan’s breath hisses softly over the line, like he’s hurting with me.
“I watched him tonight,” I whisper. “He forgot Ben’s name for a second. Just blanked. My mum tried to cover but I saw it. He’s slipping away and he’s still right here.”
