Page 72 of A Me and Him Thing
Ren pulls over onto a side road, parking the car. “I can’t talk about this and pay attention to my driving. It’s not safe.”
I don’t mention watching out for logs. He’s right. It’s not good to drive when you’re distracted.
We’re on an isolated country road. Darkness hasn’t fallen yet, but our surroundings feel heavy. I wish the only trickle of light was emanating from the stars above, that we could hold each other, comfort each other with physical contact.
But that’s out of the question. He’s married. I’m living Jane Eyre’s life. Without the happy ending. Actually, I’ve always thought that story was tragic.
“I wish… I wish that…” I can’t voice my thoughts. Sitting in the confines of his car makes my attraction for him shoot through the roof. I can hear his breathing, slow and steady. I can smell his divine cologne. I can feel the warmth from his body. This is torture.
“I know,” is all Ren says.
“Keep talking, please. Why was having Allie at home hard?”
“She was in a wheelchair. She couldn’t speak or walk. She had limited use of her hands, not enough to do anything for herself. She could lift her arms but didn’t really have control of them. She’s still able to swallow, so we can feed her food that’s been through a blender. We can give her sips of water. We had to do everything for her. Feed her, change her, bathe her, andtake care of restroom needs. While I was at work, my mom and dad had to take care of her, as well as Ethan and Kate. It was overwhelming. Allie had no idea who we were. If something upset her, she’d do like she did today. She’d start screaming frantically. The kids didn’t understand. They were too young at the time, and it scared them. They wanted their mother to hold them, to talk to them, to smile at them, and to play with them. We really believed her children would have the power to bring her back to life, and we encouraged the kids to touch her and talk to her. We were hoping for a miracle.”
“What happened?”
“Some days she was calm, almost serene. She was relaxed, and she’d sleep peacefully. But those days were the exception. Her reactions became worse, more out of control and more frequent. She could barely sleep at night. She was restless, agitated, paranoid, and anxious. It’s known as sundowning. She acted as though she was desperately scared of us. She’d curl up as tight as she could, like she thought we were going to hurt her. It became really hard to care for her daily needs. Simply changing her clothes was a struggle.”
“Couldn’t you medicate her to calm her down?”
“This was medicated.”
Oh.
“We tried several different drugs. Nothing seemed to help. We didn’t want her to be so sedated that she’d never have the opportunity to improve. We hired a home health nurse, but nothing changed. Allie was scaring the kids on a daily basis. We realized it was no way for them to live. They were seriously traumatized.”
“So you found a facility that would take excellent care of her?”
“It wasn’t that easy. The first place we took her to was awful. I went to visit her, and she was terribly neglected, sitting in her own waste for hours on end, hair unwashed, food spilled on hernightgown. They were poorly staffed and didn’t have enough hands to take care of everyone. I took her out of there and admitted her to Tranquility House. It’s ridiculously expensive, but she has the best care money can buy. They keep me updated constantly on her condition and call me if they feel I’m needed. I moved into my parents’ condo so I could be close to Allie and also to the restaurant. My parents live in my home and take care of my kids. I’m there whenever I can be. It’s the best we can do for now.”
“I can’t imagine living the way you do.”
He breathes in and out heavily. “I don’t have a choice.”
No, he doesn’t.
But I do. “What do you want from me, Ren?”
“Friendship. Companionship.”
“And that’s all?”
“It’s all I have to give right now.”
“You do realize this is my second relationship, literally months apart, where the man turns out to be married.”
One hand wanders over his face, rubbing his jawline. “I do. And I’m sorry. I really am.”
And yet he pursued me anyway. Knowing the similarities between the two situations, surely knowing how hard it would be for me. I hold my tongue, not allowing it to lash out and hurt him in the same way I’m hurting. The old Bree would’ve raged at him right about now. She would’ve given him a piece of her mind for stringing her along. “How dare you do this to me!” would’ve been repeated several times. I would’ve turned on the waterworks for sympathy. I would’ve taken him on a worldwide guilt trip.
But I don’t want to be Bree the Belligerent.
The new-and-improved Bree does none of those things. I’m determined to think things through before I respond, to notmake the same mistakes I made in the past. To keep my dignity. And to never cause him further pain.
“I’m sorry too.” I face forward in my seat. “Please take me home.”
“Bree…I…”
