Page 82 of Still Bruised
His mother hedged, not answering him.
“I just want to know that you guys are in good shape.Andthat you’re going to be comfortable for the rest of your lives.”
She sighed and lifted her gaze to him, suddenly looking years older. “I managed everything. We’re okay.”
“Okay doesn’t cut it.Comfortable,Mom.”
His mom remained silent.
Foster leaned over the counter and took her hand. “Please. Be honest with me.”
She worried her lower lip a moment. “We’ve had to make a few cuts here and there, but we’re going to make it. In fact, we didn’t need most of those extras anyway.”
“Can you let me look at your accounts?”
She worried her lip even more. “I’m supposed to take care ofyou.Not the other way around.”
He tilted his head, lifting a brow.
His mother sighed. “Fine, fine. I can show you. Just not right now.” She forced a smile that didn’t quite make it to her eyes. “We need to celebrate, and you never answered my question about dinner.”
“Why don’t we go out?” Foster said loud enough that his voice traveled into the dining room. He stepped back from the counter, eyeing his father, checking for signs if it was a yay or nay.
“That sounds like agreatidea,” his father yelled back, all smiles.
Foster eyed his mother, who looked nervous.
“Mom, he’s getting stronger and walking more and more. He can handle a night out. Especially with me there for assistance.”
“Yes, he can.” She sighed. A slow smile spread over her lips. A real one this time. “I suppose we’re going out, then.”
“We’re going out tonight, Dad. My treat.” He called from the kitchen before he approached his mom and gave her a hug. “You both need to get out more.”
She squeezed him back. “I know. It just feels safer here.”
He released his mom. “What can I do to help get Dad ready?”
“Do we need to get dressed up?”
Foster leaned on the counter. “Do you not want to get dressed up?”
“We haven’t gotten dressed up in over a year.” Her smile faded. “But it takes your father a lot longer to get dressed these days. I hate making him go through it again. He’s too stubborn to let me help him. He won’t let you, either.”
“Then we go somewhere comfortable. Let him choose the restaurant.”
“But this isyourcelebration. You should pick,” his mother said.
“I just want to go out with my parents. I don’t need fancy.”
“You’re sweet.” His mother smiled. “I need a few minutes to change my top. And I need to get him a cardigan from upstairs. It’s gotten a bit chilly out.”
“Take your time. I need to grab a shower and change,” Foster said.
“We’ll be ready whenever you are.”
Foster returned to the apartment. Before he jumped in the shower, the idea of inviting Jude to join them came to mind. He picked up his phone… but lost the nerve before he’d typed more than four words. He tossed his phone to the bed and got ready. Seconds after getting out, a notification rang out on his phone.
He grabbed his phone. An email from the clinic.
