Not smelling it is next to fucking impossible, and with each passing second of being in this perfect house I just find myself getting more pissed… Pissed because Beck’s not here. Pissed from the day and I could use his jokes. I could use his “come-ons” that send vibrations down my spine and causes my stomach to flip.
But I also know, good and well, I shouldn’t. If he were here…even if he called and wanted to talk about what happened…I’d fold.
Pulling back the comforter, I climb in his bed and curse him. “Alright, Dottie, one night. We cannot stay here again and me keep my sanity.”
Dottie doesn’t move or even grumble, and it takes me all but a minute to join her in that deep sleep.
Chapter 8
Beck
It’s been one week of being home at my parents’ and while I’m pretty sure my dad’s bitten his tongue off more times than I can count—I think we’ve come to some sort of acceptance.
Getting a little more one-on-one talks with my mom’s nurses has been a great help for my sanity as well. I know there’s no stopping what’s happening, but they’ve been encouraging about the whole thing. But deep in my gut, I know we’re nearing the end of this, so making her comfortable is my top priority.
Granted, me being here has seemed to cause my mom a little bit of discomfort. I’m not taking it too personally, or, well, trying not to at least. I’m constantly reminding myself that it happens every visit, even if this one seems to be taking a little bit longer for her to feel comfortable around me.
Dad did have a great suggestion of watching some of my games that they have taped. I’ve gotten to join the past few nights, but the first four nights…I just let that be the bright side of her day, rather than force my inclusion.
Yesterday was probably the best day yet, and I really hoped today would fall into a similar rhythm, but unfortunately that was wishful thinking.
All day I’ve been nothing but a source of anxiety for her. No matter how many times Dad calmly talks about me or the nurses bring me up as helpful—I can’t go in the same room as her without it deeply impacting her.
I’ve stayed holed up in my room and really don’t plan on leaving. It’s been raining all day, so I’ve cracked one of my windows to truly appreciate the sound of it falling.
When a knock comes to my door, there’s a clench in my chest.
“Beck, sweetie, it’s me, Nurse Jamie.”
I let out a small sigh of relief at her normal tone, but even then I open my door cautiously.
The older lady gives me a soft smile. “I wanted to let you know your mom is resting if you wanted to, I don’t know, walk around for a bit, make some lunch—up to you. She’s usually down for an hour or two.”
Clearing my throat, I give her a soft nod. “Alright, I’ll make myself a sandwich or something, then come back up here.”
Jamie hums. “Whatever floats your boat. At least take your time making it, will ya? You’re bumming me out, sitting in here all by your lonesome.”
Oh great, if I’m bumming her out, that definitely means my dad’s feeling it too. Getting out of here might be damage control more than anything.
“I assure you, I’m fine. I’ll take my time, though, if that makes anyone feel better.”
She cuts me a look. “Mm-hmm, your dad’s in the garage too, if that helps.”
It definitely does.
Quietly making my way to the kitchen, I do as Jamie asks. I don’t rush and make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich like I had planned. I actually take my time rifling through thefridge before deciding on a grilled cheese with chips in the middle of it.
Walking into the dining room, I set my plate down at the spot I claimed as mine growing up and make my way over to crack one of the windows just like I did upstairs.
Sitting in silence provides way too many opportunities for my brain to get carried away, and I try to imagine every single one of my stresses and worries about me being here fall away just as the rain falls from the sky.
Can’t say that coping method works every time, but today it does the trick. And as if the universe wants to reward me for that, I get the best video of Dottie turning circles excited to go for a run with Jensen.
Can’t say I blame the girl one bit.
Way to break my heart. Poor girl must miss me so much.
Jenni-cakes
