“Since when? Sutton only has one friend around here, and she would actually be helpful to me. Why didn’t you ask Tara to come instead? I know her.”
“Can I be honest with you?” Elijah said.
“It would be nice if you’d start,” she said.
“I met your daughter about a month ago. We ended up on the wrong end of a bet. But I’m beginning to think that it was actually the right end because I kind of dig her.”
My throat tightened. Was that true? And what did it even mean?
“Digher?” Mom said, with skeptical eyes.
“Okay,” I said, holding up a hand to stop Elijah from trying to get on my mom’s good side. I wasn’t sure claiming to like me was the flex he thought it was. And I wasn’t sure my mom had a good side, but his people-pleasing nature was going to have him jumping off cliffs to find it. “He’s here. He’s going to help us with a few things because he is, in actuality, my friend.” I approached her. “Put your arm around my neck.”
I braced myself on the back of the couch as she wrapped her arm around my neck, and I used my body weight to shift her to the wheelchair. Elijah, taking a second to catch on to what was happening, rushed around to hold the wheelchair from behind as I transferred her.
Once she was in the seat, I mouthed, “Wait here” to him. He nodded.
“You want to wear sweats?” I asked Mom as I wheeled her back to her room.
“That would probably be best,” she said.
I shut her door after wheeling her inside her bedroom. That’s when she said, “I don’t like him.”
I sighed. “Why?”
“He’s a smooth talker. The type to make big promises and never follow through.”
“He’s nice,” I said, feeling the need to defend him. He really had been nice.
“He reminds me of your father.”
That was the first time I’d ever heard her attribute any negative qualities to my dad. The fact that she was doing it now, in relation to a guy I’d just brought home, the first one ever, made me think it was purposeful. It rubbed me the wrong way. “You don’t even know him,” I said.
“I know his type.”
“Okay,” I said. “You should try to use the bathroom before we go.”
“I hate this,” she said.
“Me too,” I agreed.
It took too long to get my mom ready, and now we were running late. And Elijah was probably just standing or sitting or pacing, I had no idea, in the living room, waiting. It really was pointless to have him here. He couldn’t change my mom’s clothes or take her to the bathroom. He just had to stand around waiting.
“Sorry,” I said, when we came back out. He was looking at pictures on the wall. He turned at my words.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You were a cute kid. I like your corduroy pants. Not common when we were growing up.”
“My mom was into vintage. She was stylish.”
“Still am,” she said. “When I can dress myself.”
I nodded toward the front door, and Elijah got the hint and opened it.
“Keys,” he said as I pushed my mom in her chair through the opening. I handed them over to him, and he locked up behind us. At the car, he kneeled next to my mom. “I’m going to help you.”
“Sutton can help me,” she said.
“I’m going to help you,” he said again, firmer this time.
