I nodded. I’d have to accept that. “So? Why are Jem and Scout at home when they could’ve been worshipping the moon and Satan and whatever the fuck else you did tonight?”
“I don’t need to worship Satan. She’s already on my side.”
“You say that as if I’m not already well the fuck aware of your sadistic tendencies, storm cloud.”
She continued digging around in the basket and I heard the jangle of keys. “My epilepsy is much better controlled now than it was twenty years ago. When you knew me, it was really bad. Seizures all the time, injuries all the time. No warnings, no control. It tookyearsto get the meds right and keep them calibrated as I grew and developed. But it’s different now. I know my triggers and the best ways to respond to them. I can go months without so much as a prodrome or an aura. I can travel and work and even clean up after a flood without flying into a full-out episode. I’m more in control of it now.” She pointed at her wrist. “Constantly tracking vitals helps predict patterns and alerts me to when my body is dysregulated, in case I don’t notice. And I don’t need around-the-clock supervision like I did when I was a kid. If I fall, my watch calls emergency services when I don’t respond within a certain amount of time. But I haven’t fallen in years. It’s kind of disappointing to the dogs. They like riding to the rescue.”
I pulled up in front of Lance’s childhood home, a small Cape Cod with gray shingles and a bold red door. “But you still have service dogs.Twoof them.”
“The German shepherd is something of a rescue. Jem flunked service dog school. He can alert and intervene if I have an episode but he has little interest in meeting most of the behavioral requirements.”
“You figured, what’s one more member of the security detail?”
“Pretty much. Scout likes having a friend. Or, more specifically, someone to boss around.” She glanced at the house. Red flowers spilled out of the window boxes. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime.”
She closed her hand around the door handle but didn’t push it open. “Another thing.”
“Yeah?”
She glanced in my direction and then back to the house. “I’ve spentmy whole lifebeing treated like an issue. My parents, my doctors, they’d all talk over me, talk around me like I was nothing more than a passive ball of irregular electrical activity.”
I watched as she climbed out, her long skirt swirling around her as she settled the basket on her arm. She paused, blinking at me.
“There is nothing more upsetting to me than being treated like a diagnosis. You might think you’re doing the right thing by insisting on dragging me away from a trigger but I am the only one who decides what I can and cannot handle. Don’t ever do that to me again.”
“I won’t. I’m sorry.”
She gave a hesitant nod like she didn’t trust my words. “You can go now.”
“Get in the house, storm cloud.”
“You’re not waiting until I get inside. That’s ridiculous.”
“Tough shit.” I shrugged. “You’re lucky I’m not walking you to the damn door.”
I’d thought about it but I knew I’d do something I’d regret if I went up there with her.
Shaking her head, she stomped up the front steps and unlocked the door. The dogs crowded around her, each jostling for her attention. She glanced back at me, waved.
I looked ahead and drove away.
chaptertwelve
Sunny
Today’s Special:
An Array of Freshly Foraged Mushrooms
“This way,”I said to Jem, directing him to the back door. Jem was up for any adventure while Scout was perfectly content to continue sleeping under the desk in the office. “I’m not going out there alone.”
I didn’t mind closing, not even when we had special events that ran late—or, in tonight’s case, a meeting of a local writers’ group—but we’d had enough weird incidents around here that I’d succeeded in spooking myself. I knew I didn’t have anything to be worried about but it put my mind at ease to have a growly German shepherd by my side when it was time to close up the outdoor area for the night.
The day had been blisteringly hot and only the bravest of souls had ventured outside to eat on the patio. Still, I had to take one more pass and drop some scraps in the compost bin before we could head home.
“Do me a favor and scare off any rogue raccoons. They might have tools,” I said.
