Page 78 of The Deals We Make
“We ran a search on everyone in the office’s device. It was your head of security’s suggestion. Brooke Davis’s had malware on it. When we interviewed her, we asked if she had ever left it unsecured, and she was adamant she hadn’t. But when we asked if she had ever left her laptop alone with strangers in her own home, like a repair or delivery man, she admitted to a one-night stand who asked her a lot of questions about where she worked and who she worked with.”
I know the answer before I ask, but I need to put the question out there anyway. “Does she have a name?”
“Only a first name. Unlikely it’s even real. But she does have a date and time, so we’re in contact with the manager of the apartment unit she lives in because there are security cameras. Right now, he’s suggesting we need something legal to get the footage from him.”
“Okay. Do what you have to do with legal,” I say.
I’m going to apologize to Ti, tell him everything, and then ask him if he wants to play detective with me. See if we can’t have some of the fun we used to.
“On it. Glad you got out of town for a little while. Don’t tell me exactly where you are, just in case our phone lines aren’t secure, but are you safe?”
I look around Ti’s kitchen and think about the security system he has and all the cameras that guard the exterior of the property. “Yes, I’m well-protected.”
“Good. I’ll keep you posted, Calista.”
After we say our goodbyes, I feel a little more positive. I pull on my coat, set the alarm, and walk the fifteen minutes to Mom’s house. It’s easier now the sidewalk has been shoveled and I have decent boots on my feet.
When I get there, the light is on in the living room. I let myself in, and the smell of nutty coffee greets me.
After hanging my coat on the hook, I make my way into the kitchen, where Melanie has her hands wrapped around a mug.
“Morning, Melanie,” I say. “Have you settled in okay?”
Melanie smiles. “I have. I’m unpacked, installed my coffee maker, and finished the plan for this week and emailed it to you last night. Help yourself to some coffee if you want.”
“Thank you. It smelled so freaking good when I stepped into the house.” I get busy pulling a cup from the cupboard. “I’ll look at the plan you laid out while I enjoy this.”
Once I have my coffee, I open my laptop. The document was sent at eleven last night when I was soundly sleeping in Ti’s arms.
So much thought has gone into it. It’s broken out into sections. Nutrition and movement, things to stimulate Mom’s brain from puzzles to creativity, time for DIY and projects. Basic admin like banking, bookkeeping, and grocery shopping. And an online calendar for us to use to keep track of Mom’s appointments and medications.
“This is amazing, Melanie. Thank you.”
She tops up my coffee. “Glad you appreciate it. You should take this up to your mom and check in on her without me around.”
I glance up at her. “Are you trying to manage me too?”
Melanie laughs. “I wouldn’t be so bold. But I do know that adapting to having a full-time caregiver all up in your space can be a lot. I took her through the plan yesterday, under the guise of figuring out how we should spend our time together. I told her that doing nothing but watch TV all day was going to make her symptoms worse, and if she wants to gain some of her old spark back, we need to work on this.” She points to the plan on mylaptop. “It’s tough love. Not quite tough enough to be bad cop, but now you can be good cop. See how she’s doing.”
“I think you’re going to be good for all of us,” I say as I stand. There’s an ease in the house. I feel like I can breathe knowing Melanie is here. It feels…unusual…to rely on someone else.
This is what Ti was annoyed about.
I didn’t tell him because I don’t want to rely on him or anyone else to solve it for me.
They say when the universe is trying to teach you a lesson, you should learn it.
I step up the stairs and knock before I enter Mom’s bedroom. She’s awake and scrolling through her phone. Instead of standing at the side of the bed farthest from her, I step around, now that the path is clear, and perch right next to her on the edge of the bed.
“How are you doing, Mom?” I ask, taking her hand. The skin is paper thin and cool to the touch.
“I’m slipping, aren’t I?” she says quietly. Her fingers grip mine tightly.
“I refuse to think of it that way,” I say. I’ve given speeches to thousands of people, but somehow, I struggle to hold the conversation I hadn’t anticipated. “We’re making adjustments to allow you to have the best life.”
She looks up at me, and for the first time, I hold my mom’s gaze. Like, really hold it. Time slides by, but I realize I wouldn’t want to be anywhere other than here right now.
“You’ve done well for yourself, Calista. I’m proud of you.”
