When Jane leaves us, Casey turns to me. His brow furrows. “Are you sure you don’t want an ice pack or something?”
I toss my hair back. “It’s fine. I’ll just rub some eucalyptus oil on it later. It’ll help with the pain.”
“Eucalyptus oil? That’s what you’re suggesting?”
“Yeah. Have you tried it?”
His eyebrows lift, as though wondering if I’m serious. “Uh, no. Can’t say that I have. Usually stick with the usual Ibuprofen or Acetaminophen for pain.”
I shrug. “Well, I guess to each their own.”
He blinks rapidly. “No. Those are the go-tos for pain meds. So, it’s not really to each their own.”
“Well, I don’t ‘go-to’ them.”
“But that’s what doctors prescribe.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t think you’re the best person to make recommendations for my health.”
He shakes his head, puts his hands on his hips and judging from his demeanor, I realize Jane walking in and inviting us to sit down may have saved us from a full-on argument.
“Casey!” Austin calls from the back of the house when he sees his brother.
“Hey, Austin.”
“Have you seen Dad today?”
“Yeah, I went to the hospital a little earlier. I cut his hair and talked to him for a bit, but he’s still the same.”
Casey’s answer surprises me. The way he takes care of his father is different than I imagined. He usually brushes everyone off, and I almost expected him to return to L.A. right away.
“I had a busy day with work and then coached Anthony’s baseball team, and I didn’t get a chance to go.”
“Uncle Casey!” Anthony barrels into him from behind and nearly knocks him off his feet. “Can you run the next baseball practice for us? That would be so awesome. You could throw your ninety-nine-mile-an-hour pitch, and everyone would freak out. Can you? Huh?”
“Anthony,” Jane admonishes. “I don’t think Uncle Casey has time for that.”
“Why? What’s he got to do?” Anthony asks and I laugh out loud. I can’t help it. I smother my laughter with the back of my hand when I realize no one else found his question funny.
“How about I pitch to you right now on the back porch? I’m not sure if I’ll be here next week for your next practice.”
Austin’s face falls just as dramatically as Anthony’s, but the child shrugs his shoulders and says, “Sure.”
Content with the compromise, Anthony runs outside to toss the ball around with his dad and uncle.
“Can I help you with anything?” I ask Jane as she cuts into the roast. The juices drip clear and it looks done to me.
“Can you put plates on the table? I forgot those.”
“Sure.” I walk over to the center cabinet, the one next to the sink and grab the plates. I know my way around Jane’s kitchen just as well as my own. It’s not a new kitchen, but the maple cabinets and white laminate countertops are always spotless.
As I set the plates down on the table, I catch a glimpse of the boys through the back window. Austin drops into a catcher’s stance while Casey throws him the ball. He does this a couple of times until Anthony frowns and crosses his arms. “That wasn’t even sixty miles, Uncle Casey.”
Austin smiles but Casey closes his eyes. He stretches his shoulder and a grimace of pain crosses over his face. I step closer to the window and watch intently.
