Page 45 of Accidental Irish Daddy

I leave my room and go down the hall to Ma’s room. I haven’t been here since the night she was taken to the hospital. The sheets and comforters are still hanging off the bed where Martha said she fell. There are spots of blood on the floor from where she coughed it up. The crossword that she was doing is sitting on the nightstand, book folded back, and a lone pen stuck between the pages.

All the peace I was feeling drains out of me as I stand there, my heart starting to pound. I clench my fists, digging my nails into my palms. This needs to be done. I take a couple of deep breaths to stave off my anxiety and start with the bed.

I pull off the comforter and the sheets, setting them aside to be washed. Then I go downstairs and grab some boxes and a mop for the dried blood on the floor and I set about the task of putting the things on the nightstand in the box and mopping floors.

The more I do this, the more it becomes automatic. It hurts still. Every piece of it. But I just keep reminding myself that it needs to be done.It needs to be done.

Before long, I’m clearing out her closet. I leave her clothes hanging for the moment. I’ll have to have Martha come up and go through them to give away to charity. I don’t think I can handle doing that right now. Instead, I go through some of herold hat boxes and other items on the top shelf. She doesn’t really have that many hat boxes. I don’t remember the last time I saw her in a fancy hat outside of church when I was a child…

One of the boxes slips out of my hand and falls to the floor, the top coming off…and out rolls three prescription bottles of pills.

I freeze, staring at them for a long moment. I know what they are and why they’re there. I’d told Aisling to hide them well and she did. I’d never have thought to look here for them.

The ache in my heart feels like it’s burning a hole inside me and sitting right at my toes is my salvation. All I need to do is pick them up…

I kneel down and pick up one of the bottles. Oxycodone…memories of crushing up pills and snorting them rush through my brain. The sleek buzz rushing through my body as it hits my bloodstream. Three pills would give me a solid night’s sleep. Two would help me get through a day without thinking about the pain.

And I am in so much pain right now.

I open the bottle and drop a handful of the pills in my hand. I could take just one. Just swallow it down and let the medicine put out the blaze of agony inside me…

“Grant?”

I startle. A woman’s voice behind me.

Aisling. Of course.

I put the pills back in the bottle and set it back on the floor. “Yes?”

Footsteps come from behind me, so I stand and turn around to her.

“What is it?” I ask.

Her eyes dart down to the pills and back to me again. She walks past me and straight to the pills. She picks them up quickly. “You found her medication,” she says, a nervous chuckle following. “I should have taken care of this days ago.”

She’s holding the pills, the salvation to my pain in her hands. “I was just starting to clean up her room. It…it needs to be done.”

She nods. “I can do this, Mr. Duncan. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Nonsense,” I say coldly. I need to get through this and she’s getting in the way. “I can handle it. Was there something you wanted?”

She shrugs and stammers. “I, um…I know that we just buried her today and all, but…but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask you how long you want me to stay…assuming you want me to stay.”

Those deep green eyes are imploring me, and I’m forced to turn away from her. I can’t look at her right now. Those damned eyes and her sweet pouting lips. I don’t need this temptation right now.

“You want to leave now? You just offered to help clean.”

“Well, notrightnow,” she says. “I mean, I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

I hear a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence.But I have to leave you. Of course, I have to leave you. I’m going to leave just like your mother did. She’s not here anymore. Why should I stick around?

“I don’t know why you’re asking me that.” My response is rather harsh. “I hired you for my mother’s palliative care, and now that’s over, so…”

I let the implication hang between us. She leans into me, forcing me to look at her. “So, you want me to go.”

“What use are you to me now that Ma’s dead?” I say to her, annoyed that she’s needling me like this. I turn away from her, grabbing the fallen hat box and putting it with the other one in the far corner. “If you want to go, go.”

I don’t turn around. I’m tired of talking to her. Tired of dealing with this day.

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