“I feel special,” he says, after typing on the screen.
“You should because you are. Now don’t let it go to your head. The movie is starting.”
____
My mom and I walk out of Cody’s room and into the kitchen where my dad is still sitting at the table, finishing the last of his slice of pie.
“I know you were looking forward to more movies, but he seemed exhausted.” Mom squeezes my hand. “Coffee?”
I nod. “It’s okay. I’m not going to deprive him of a nap just because I want to watch some movies we’ve both seen more than a dozen times.”
“I told y’all I could help,” my dad says as I take a seat across from him.
“No. You can’t. You hurt your back lifting him,” I say matter-of-factly. My mom slides a mug in front of me and joins us. “How did that even happen?”
“Caregiver called out a couple days ago, and your mother had run up to the store. He said he was tired, and I must’ve lifted with my back a little too much, because the minute I got him standing, I could feel it.”
“Why not use his lift?”
“That old thing?” My dad shakes his head. “I think it’s broken. It’s easier to just do it myself.”
I exhale. The lift is broken? Caregivers are calling it out? I wonder what else they haven’t told me.
“Since when?”
“A couple weeks now,” my mom says. “I’m trying to get a new one or at the very least a repair, but you know how insurance can be.” She shakes her head. “I’m hoping to hear from them soon.”
“And how often are the caregivers canceling?”
“Depends. We have a few really good ones right now, but you know how it is. We’ll find good ones, and then they move on.”
For the first time today, I really take them in. Both are in their mid-fifties. My dad’s hair is beginning to gray. My mom’s hair used to be the same shade as mine, but now it’s a deeper red that you can only get at a salon. There seems tobe more creases around their eyes than the last time I saw them.
Guilt overwhelms me. I should be here helping. Maybe getting kicked out of my apartment is a sign from the universe that I need to be here, not living my life like nothing awful happened to my favorite person.
“You know, I actually have to be out of my apartment by the end of October. Maybe I should move back in. I could help. I know y’all need it.”
The base of my mom’s mug clatters against the wood surface of the table. “Absolutely not,” she says.
“But Mom—” I begin, but this time my dad chimes in.
“As much as we would love to have you under our roof again, you can’t move back here. You are going to be Cody’s primary caregiver one day, but that day isn’t today. Your mother and I are more than capable of caring for him.”
“We do appreciate your offer, honey, but your father is right. You’re twenty-four. You should be out in the world living your life. You’re always welcome here, and we are so appreciative of how much you helped after his accident, but you can’t put that pressure on yourself.”
She grabs my hand, and tears begin to run down my cheeks. I know they’re right. We spent more than a year in therapy together learning how to process everything that happened. My takeaway was that I couldn’t be there for everyone the way I wanted to be if I didn’t take care of myself first, but some days that fact is still hard to accept. I love my family more than anything in the world, and it feels selfish not to be here helping. It’s an internal battle I fight constantly.
“Don’t you start crying,” she says. “Our lives were forever changed the day your brother fell, but that doesn't mean we have to live life being sad about it. We still have him, and while he may use a computer to talk to us and needs a little bit of extra help sometimes, he’s still our Cody. I know for a fact he wouldn’t want you to live here.”
“Oh, did he tell you that?” I can’t help but laugh at her frank statement.
“He did. He never liked having to share our attention.”
“Very funny,” I deadpan.
“Why are you moving?” my dad asks.
“They sold my apartment building, and the new company is kicking us all out to demolish it.”
