“You could also take a quick bath,” I said, keeping my tone light, like this wasn’t humiliating for her.
She blinked slowly. That usually meant no.
I nodded. “Okay. We won’t.”
“Nancy,” I said to my grandma's roommate. “I’m so sorry you have to wait. I’ll get to you in a second, ok?”
Nancy made a sound that wasn’t a word, more like a rough groan, but by now I knew her sounds. It meant thank you.
Suddenly, Nurse Carol stormed in with flushed cheeks like she’d been running from room to room. She was a stocky woman with oily short hair and tired eyes that had seen too much for too little pay.
She stopped short when she saw me, and her eyes flicked to my grandma’s bed.
“Oh, God, Dylan, I’m so sorry.”
“What the hell, Carol?” I shot back.
I pulled clean underwear up my grandma’s motionless legs. “They’re lying in full diapers, and they’re still in bed. This is unacceptable. What the hell is wrong with this place?”
Carol’s mouth tightened. For a second, she looked like she might get mad. Instead, she swallowed it.
“I know,” she said. “We’re short two nurses. They quit last night.”
The words should’ve made me soften. I understood staffing shortages. I did. But my heart couldn’t take the sight of my grandma like this.
Carol rushed to my side, but I shook my head.
“Nancy needs help. I got my grandma.”
Carol nodded and wiped her brow with the back of her wrist. She quickly moved to Nancy’s bedside.
I finished with my grandma and dressed her in her blouse and skirt. Then I combed her hair. It had turned silver from the stroke. Some strands fell into place, neat and soft, and finally she looked like herself again.
“You look beautiful,” I said.
I carried her over to her wheelchair, gently set her down, and got her the hell out of this shithole.
For a few hours, at least, we’d both step into a different world.
Into a world of wealth and narcissism.
My dad’s.
* * *
I pulled through the automatic gate of my dad’s home and onto a long, curving driveway that hugged the edge of Lake Waban. The house sat back from the road, built of old stone and wide glass. A massive colonial mansion. Over ten thousand square feet. Floor-to-ceiling windows caught the morning light. Everything about the place screamed money. Pure luxury.
We had no idea how rich Amanda really was until she married my dad without a prenup. Zach had left her an insane amount of money. Once my mom was gone and the wedding was over, my dad stopped pretending. He sold Amanda’s old house and made her buy this one. Triple the square footage. Triple the statement.
He said it was for us kids. For my mom. So she could watch us from heaven, happy. He also said a bigger house meant space for a new beginning. The shameless bastard even mentioned a baby—Amanda’s ultimate dream. Becoming a biological mother, finally. Zach had never wanted kids. He hated them.
The driveway was crowded with Dad’s toys. A Porsche, his truck, and the black Mercedes were parked there like they owned the place. Amanda’s minivan was pushed to the side like the maid’s car.
Ridiculous.
As I pulled up, rage climbed up my throat.
Hot. Bitter. Sharp.
