Where’d you run off to?
Dolly
I wanted to see Pops. Having coffee on the front porch now.
Rosie
I’m worried about you. It’s not safe for you, Dolls.
Dolly
Is Pops okay here all alone? Who’s feeding him?
Rosie
Duke checks in every morning, and Holden takes him dinner every night from what I cook. Why? Is he okay?
Dolly
He’s already drinking.
Rosie
I’m sorry, D. That’s earlier than usual.
I settle into the rocking chair beside him. He’s whispering to himself, like he often does. Sometimes, I hear him talking out loud when no one is around; other times, he has whispered conversations, almost like he knows there’s no one there, but he’s fully engaged in the scenario in his head.
Rosie
Maybe it’s time we consider hiring a nurse to check up on him during the day. Or are you wanting to come back home? It’s a lot for you to handle on your own with the bakery and cooking for the ranch.
Dolly
I don’t know what I want. I’m sick of living with Sam Seymour—I can tell you that.
Rosie
I don’t blame you.
I put the phone down, turning to Pops. “Have you seen the twins lately?”
He shakes his head. “What twins?”
I sigh. “Birdie and Bonnie, Holden’s little girls.”
“I’m okay with whatever, sugar. Where’s your mom, by the way? I wanted to talk to her.”
I gape at him. He’s said some out-of-pocket things, and he constantly forgets things, but this is the first time he’s ever talked about my mother as if she were alive.
“She’s gone, Pops. She died. You remember? In that car accident. It was years ago.”
His brows furrow. “Oh, right. I guess I do remember that.”
He reaches for the whiskey bottle at his feet. I stop his hand.
“Pops, please, just wait until later. You should stick with coffee for now.”
He swats my hand away and grabs the bottle. “I’m a grown man. Don’t tell me what I can and can’t drink.” He sticks his hand in the upper pocket of his shirt and pulls out his pack of Marlboros.
