Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“Uh . . . I think she’s in the medical profession. Late twenties. Oh, I have to go. Lola needs me. Love you. Talk soon.” She disconnects the call so abruptly I don’t get out a simple goodbye.
“Who were you talking to?” Mom asks, handing me a beer before sitting in the glider beside mine.
“Maren. She found a renter for my shed.”
“Oh, how is she?” Mom sips her red wine.
“Good.” I take a swig of my beer. “Listen, I know you don’t want Dad going into skilled care, but he’s not well. And you can’t take care of him at home. And he’ll get daily PT.”
She frowns. “My husband doesn’t belong in a nursing home.”
“Skilled care.”
She rolls her eyes. “What’s the difference?”
“One is short-term and helps him regain his strength so maybe he can come home, and the other is forever. A gateway to God. Heaven’s waiting room.”
“William.” She winces. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s life.” I shrug and smirk behind the neck of my beer bottle. “Dad will be fine. He’s the strongest man I know. We have to find humor anywhere we can,” I say.
“Death is funny?” She sets her glass aside and gathers her hair, pulling it over her shoulder.
“Life is funny. It’s so cruel sometimes. I don’t know why anyone keeps playing the game. The world is a dumpster fire, the kind firefighters can’t extinguish. Yet we willingly keep playing.”
“That’s pretty dark, honey. Do you think being a bachelor for forty years has made you a little cynical? Don’t you want to fall in love? It’s not too late. You’re the age your dad was when I met him. When you have someone to live life with you, it’s a little less dumpster-fiery.”
Is it, though?
“What are you going to do when you don’t have him?” I ask in a reverent tone. No sarcasm. I’m not trying to be cynical. “He’s twenty years older than you. If not soon, it will happen eventually.” I’m asking her, but I’m also asking myself the same question. A world without my father in it feels unnatural. Unimaginable.
She quickly wipes a tear before it slides down her cheek while hiding her emotions behind a smile. In the past week, there have been many of these smiles.
“I can promise you this—I will not be with anyone else. Women aren’t like men. Despite our perceived fragility, we can live on our own just fine. I have two grandchildren, and I want you to give me at least two more. Don’t put all the pressure on your sister.”
She’s dreaming. No one should feel pressure to have kids. I have no interest in it. I’m the fun uncle and damn good at it. Maybe a godparent for friends who have kids but don’t think they’ll really die before me.
“How do you feel about a granddog from me instead?” I ask.
She nudges my leg with her foot and rolls her eyes. “No. Go find a woman and put a baby in her.”
I bark a laugh, which makes her smile bloom into something real. This is the mother I know and love.
Still, I’m not impregnating anyone, not even for her.
Chapter Four
“The only good thing to come from this is big breasts,” Dad says, staring out the hospital window.
I’ve been here for two weeks, and he’s still confused and weak. A few days ago, he could walk up and down the hallway with help. Today, he’s had a catheter inserted, which will probably give him another urinary tract infection.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, sliding his plate of meat loaf closer, hoping he’ll eat something. He’s lost a lot of weight. The fat is gone, and his muscles are melting away.
“Your mom. When she’s pregnant, her boobs get enormous.” He holds up his hands and cups them like he’s squeezing invisible breasts.
“Mom’s not pregnant.”
He narrows his eyes. “She is. I don’t think it’s mine, but I don’t want to start a fight, so I’m just going to raise the damn kid as my own.”
It’s not funny. He’s unwell. But I can’t help but snort behind my hand fisted at my mouth. “Well”—I clear my throat to compose myself—“that’s really nice of you.”
My phone vibrates, and I pull it from my back pocket.
Fitz: When do u come home
Will: 2 weeks
Fitz: K
Will: Why
Fitz: Don’t worry about it. We’ll discuss when u get home
Will: Discuss what
Fitz: Your new roommate
Will: ????
Fitz: Give your parents my best
Will: Knock it off asshole. What’s going on
“Thatcher, I’m giving you a bath today,” the nurse says, sauntering into the room in burgundy scrubs and white Hokas. “I can come back to do it later.” She eyes me and smiles.
“You can do it now. I’m leaving.”
“I don’t need a bath. I’m not having sex.” Dad takes a bite of his meat loaf with a shaky hand.
The nurse presses her lips together, and I close my eyes for a few seconds, slowly shaking my head.