Mom grabs a dark wooden tray from a cabinet underneath the island. She places one bowl on it, along with a sleeve of crackers, a mug of ginger tea, and vitamins.
“And that’s going well?” She walks over to Dad, while carefully holding the tray, and sets it on his lap.
He looks at her with nothing but love in his eyes, and when he goes to grab it, Mom pulls it back.
“You’re not lifting a finger.”
He sets his hands down.
“Just try and have a little bit, okay? I know you haven’thad an appetite, but even if it’s just broth, I’ll be happy.” She bends, giving him a peck on the lips before heading back to the kitchen to grab her bowl.
“I’m doing the best I can. It’s a lot, but nothing I can’t handle. I just need to figure out some paperwork and numbers.”
“If you need me to help with some things?—”
Mom says, “Not happening.”
“I told ya.”
“Do not try to bribe your son to work.” She takes her soup, swirling her spoon in the creamy, yellow liquid.
“I was suggesting that I could help do work from home, on my laptop, in this chair.”
“And I told dad that I have it handled. He’s just asking because he’s bored.”
Mom sits up and turns to him. “I thought you were enjoying our board game nights?”
“I can only lose so many times at Scrabble when it comes to playing against you,” he says delicately. “I can’t handle it anymore.”
Ellie and Riley snicker somewhere from behind me in the kitchen.
“If that’s the case, we could have played something else,” Mom says. “We have a closet full of games.”
"I'm suddenly very thirsty. Does anyone need a drink?" Riley rummages through the cabinets, opening and closing them like she isn’t sure where the glasses are. She knows where they are. She practically lived here.
I saunter to the large, powder-white couch and plop down. Grabbing my glasses from my face, I rub my eyes from exhaustion with my other hand before putting my glasses back on.
“So, you really don’t want any of my help?” Dad asks again.
I pick at my cuticles. "Actually, Riley helped me out a lot. But I shouldn't need your help, that’s the thing. You did everything on your own for years before I came along."
Dad chuckles. Something he hasn't done since he was diagnosed.
"What's so funny?" I ask.
"Do you know how many times I had to ask your mother for help?"
Mom smiles at Dad bashfully.
He points to her but keeps his eyes on me. "If it weren't for her, The Surf Shack would have failed miserably. It wouldn't be what it is today if I didn't have her."
"How come you guys never told us this?" Ellie asks.
Dad shrugs. "You never asked."
"What did you help him with?" Ellie looks at Mom.
"Do you have anywhere to be?” she mutters. “Because the list is long.”
