While stepping back into my boots, I spot raindrops, big fat ones, crashing down onto the walkway, one at a time, growing steadier by the second. I jog out to the truck, retrieving the bag of pastries and coffees, then make it back inside before the rain begins to pour down.
"I brought y'all something."
"Chancey, you didn't have to waste your money on us," Ma says.
I'm glad I did now. I'm wondering if they even had breakfast this morning.
"It was on my way, and I wanted a coffee." Ma doesn't like it when she thinks I've gone out of my way for her because she feels bad that she and Pa are older than most parents would be to someone my age. Even though they don't like it when I come over just to help them, I know they need the extra hand.
"Oh my, oh my, you brought me a honey-drizzled croissant. You must really love me," Ma says, sinking her teeth into the flakey crust.
"I really do love you both," I remind her.
"Back to this girl situation—" Ma continues.
I gently swing my head side to side. "Ma, please."
"I need to know that my Chancey has a nice lady to make him happy."
"Why do you need to know that?" I question. "You know I'm just fine on my own."
"At thirty years old, son, you spend way too much time thinkin' of your old folks."
I squat down in front of Ma's bag of yarn. "Listen, I don't come over here or call you because I'm lonely. I worry about you two."
"I wish I wasn't so dang old. I'm going to be eighty next month. Your father, Lord, help us; he's going to be eighty-five this summer." The two of them are a young set of eighty-year-olds. Pa wouldn't give up his work at the insurance company until they forced him out at eighty. Ma has been a tornado, cooking and cleaning, making sure everyone is well taken care of from here to the end of the street, for as long as I can remember. It bothers me to see them slowing down so much.
"That ain't old, Ma." I'd rather tell them that than agree. Once a person realizes that their body is giving up, it destroys any hope of getting better. It isn't a mindset I wish on the two of them, let alone anyone.
"Tell that to my doctor. You know he told me to cut back on my salt?"
"The nerve," I reply with a bit of sarcasm.
"Honestly, that doctor just has no one to cook him good food. That must be it."
I spot a few wires sticking out behind the TV, and I stand up to see what Pa has pulled apart. "What's going on over here?"
"Oh, your father was messing with something the other day, and now we can't watch TV no more."
I take in a deep breath of frustration, wishing they would just call me more often when they need help, not when Pa suddenly can't figure out how to turn on the TV. If I had known they had been without their only source of entertainment for the last few days, I would have stopped by sooner.
I reattach the cords that were pulled out and hit the power button to see if that fixes the problem.
Sure enough, everything is back on.
"This is why you are my hero, Chancey."
"Ma, just call me when this stuff happens."
"Your father said he did," she responds.
"He didn't tell me your TV was out."
"Oh, well, he must have forgotten."
"Speaking of forgetting—has the landscaper gone missing?"
Ma closes her eyes for a moment then waves me over in a dramatic fashion. "You're not going to believe this," she says.
