“Yeah…”
“Yeah,” he parrots. “Did you call?”
“Yeah.”
He pauses, waiting for me to offer more. “And do they have an opening?”
I puff out my cheeks, holding a breath before releasing it in a shaky exhale. “It’s a beautiful facility, and I appreciate you finding it for me. But the price is insane, Jim. It’s way more than I’m paying now, so I need to figure out how I’m going to afford it. I’m waiting to hear back from the hospital to see about picking up extra shifts. It’ll be a process, I’m not gonna lie, but I’m trying to figure out a way.” I just need to figure out the logistics of how to make this all work.
He takes the dirty plates from my hands, lifting my fingers to release the death grip I had on them. “If that’s the only reason, you should first have them look at her referral. My buddy said they have a great donor program. Families of previous residents will make pretty substantial donations in the name of their loved ones. Funds are distributed among residents who need assistance. Some people use the funds to buy a specialty bed, or put the money towards the monthly room and board. It’s worth seeing if they would at least accept her, then we can work out the next step.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It might just be that easy.” He tilts his head down to catch my eyes, which had been focused on the center of his chest. “Okay? You’ll have her moved?”
I flick my eyes to his. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’ll have them look over her history, and ask about the donor program. But if they still want my left arm as payment, I’ll tell them to stick it.”
I reach to take the plates back from his hands, but he spins so his shoulder blocks my reach. “Where I come from, the cook doesn’t clean. Take a break, leave them for me. Come throw a ball around with us, and when I come back in, I’ll wash them.”
I reach for the stack again, pulling them from his grasp. “And where I come from, the guests don’t clean.” The dishes can probably wait, but I should throw a load of laundry in and mop the floors to get rid of the musty smell that came from the leaky pipes.
He lets me take the plates from him and instead grabs the empty glasses and bag of chips from the table, bringing both into the kitchen. He sticks the chips back in the cabinet before sliding behind me as I stand at the sink, hands grasping my forearms to still my movements. “Stop.” He says against the shell of my ear. His breath tickles my neck, making the tiny hairs stand tall. “Take a break. Come hang out with us, or take a nap if you need. Read a dirty book and think of me.”
I look over my shoulder just in time to see him wink, before turning to look out the wall of windows to see Jackson with his mitt on; he’s throwing the ball to no one before running after it to swipe it up. How many times has he had to play alone? Tossing the ball to no one because I was always too busy?
My shoulders sink, and I shut the faucet off. Jim watches as I dry my hands off with a towel before reaching to lace his fingers with mine, tugging me towards the patio doors. “Come on, Meg, let’s go play ball.”
~
I pull the elastic from my messy bun, letting my hair fall in a tangled mess over my shoulders. I rake my nails over my scalp and gather it over my shoulder to quickly braid it into my signature work braid.
Squirting a dollop of gel into my hands, I furiously rub them together before sliding my palm over my hair to flame theflyaways, using the rest to smooth down the frizzes in my braid. “Thank God tomorrow is hair wash day.”
Jacksons infectious giggle radiates down the hall from the living room, and I smile at myself in my bedroom mirror. After lunch, we played catch outside for what felt like hours. I showed Jim all of my sad plants in their milk jugs and plastic containers, rambling on about my dream of a real backyard with a real garden someday. Jackson talked his ear off all day about where we were going to plant the garden and how his favorite superheroes would likely plant their garden. He told Jim about the most recent movie he watched, and how he hopes within time Clementine will be sleeping at the foot of his bed at night. And when the spring rain started, we came inside and Jackson forced us to play Hungry Hungry Hippos.
I make my way to the kitchen, opening the fridge to pull out leftovers and tucking my lunch into my tote bag. I turn to the snack cabinet, biting my lip while I peruse my options for tonight’s 3 AM hunger fix.
“You really don’t ever stop, do you?”
Jim’s voice startles me from behind the cabinet. His hand snakes up to rest on the top of the door, and I pull out a bag of pretzels before gently pushing him away to shut the cabinet door.
“Stop what? Whooping you at board games? Because you suck at Hungry Hungry Hippos, Charlie-boy.”
He rolls his eyes at me. “First of all, I told you, my lever was stuck. Secondly, I know you said that you work three jobs, but seeing it is so different. You didn’t nap at all today.”
I move around the kitchen, pulling out my coffee pot to brew a fresh thermos before I go. “I’m so used to this routine, I don’t think about it anymore.” My eyes glance up at the clock on the living room wall. “In about a half hour we need to leave. I drop Jackson off at my parents’ house, visit with them for a fewminutes before I head to work. In the morning I come home, sleep for two or three hours before I go pick Jackson up. We’ll visit my sister then spend the rest of the afternoon together. Once Jackson goes to sleep tomorrow night, I’ll work on an article until I pass out,then Monday it starts all over again.” Rinse and repeat.
“You should have told me to leave. You could have slept. Or I could have stayed with Jackson while you slept.”
Sleep. I miss sleep. When I first started this routine I would take a nap before going into work at night. Sometimes I’d bring Jackson to my parents’ house early in the afternoon, doze in their spare room for a few hours. Or I’d set him up with a movie and rest on the couch. But either way, that same guilty feeling would gnaw at my insides. The pressure of wanting to spend any moment of free time with him before he grows up too fast overrides any amount of sleep I may need. I decided it was just easier to stay awake, develop an addiction to caffeine and energy drinks, so that Jackson didn’t have to suffer through any more of this than he already has.
“I don’t nap on Saturdays. And I wanted to hang out with the both of you.”
“How come your friends don’t help out more? I’m sure they’d be happy to have Jackson over for a weekend, or even just a night.”
I sigh, setting my lunch ingredients on the counter before turning to Jim. “I know what you’re trying to do. I know where you’re going with this. I do have people that help. My friends have offered to help, and they do. Lainey is the one that comes over in the middle of the night when Marissa goes to the hospital. A few months ago, I was horribly sick and Jenna took Jackson for an entire weekend so he could run wild with her crew. They are there if I need them, but—”
“But you don’twantto need them,” he finishes. “Look, I get it.” His hands come up to rest on my shoulders as he sighs heavily. “I’ll shut my mouth. I know you are doing what needs to be done, and you’re killing it. If you do one thing, anything, please call that facility about your sister. Maybe if she was somewhere with better care, it could put your mind at ease. Maybe even relieving some of that mental stress would help the entire situation.”
