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“How about, I can’t sit with you because you’re a terrible ogre who gives my wife shit.” Even through the phone I could tell he was rolling his eyes at me.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think to say that,” he said.

“Jerry said you agreed with him that when it comes to my mom, I’m insensitive.”

“Hesaid that. AllIsaid was that you two had a complicated relationship.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you saw him?”

“Because I didn’t want to fight about it. Kind of like we’re doing now.”

He was right. Why was I starting a fight when we were already not connecting? So what did I ask? “Is there anything else you’re keeping from me?” I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but I sometimes blurted out what I was thinking.

“Did you call just to yell at me?” Jim asked.

“Of course not.” I had, but I was starting to feel bad. “I called to see if you wanted tacos for dinner. I got all the ingredients at the market yesterday.”

“Not really. How about that shrimp thing you make with the garlic and lemon?”

“We don’t have any shrimp.”

“Oh.”

“I guess I could go back to the market,” I said, trying to sound as unhappy as I could so he would tell me not to.

“Great, thanks,” he said.

“Fine, I’ll go back on the condition that you don’t have lunch with my brother again.”

“Got it. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.” He hung up, and I realized I was doing the very thing I worried Gia was doing. I was bowing to what my man wanted.

I had my keys in my hand and was heading out the door when the phone rang again. When I saw it was my mom, I let it go to voicemail.

Since it was Tuesday, I planned to go see my dad, and then I’d get a workout in before going back to the market. When I got to Dad’s room, he was sitting in bed watching television. There was an oxygen machine next to him with a long tube running under his nose. He’d never needed oxygen before. Panic bubbled inside me as I thought about what would happen if he stopped breathing. How would I survive losing him? I pushed down my inclination to go to a dark place because it was adding to my overactive anxiety. I kissed him on the cheek and muted the football game he was watching. He greeted me happily, and even with his labored breathing, his eyes had their usual sparkle.

“I’ve never seen you using one of these machines before,” I said, pointing to the black rectangle next to him that looked like a paper shredder. The whooshing coming from it wasn’t loud, but it invaded my brain.

“It’s nothing. I just had a little trouble breathing last night. You know how nurses are: you have a little issue, and they make you use a stupid machine.”

The skin on his face was ashen, so it didn’t look like a little issue. I knew he wasn’t going to say much more though. “How’s the football game? Who’s playing?” I asked.

He stared at the television. “Uh, the Eagles and the Vikings?”

I looked at the television. “You mean the Seahawks and the Giants?”

“Oh, yeah.” How could he not know who was playing, especially since the Giants were his favorite team. Could the lack of oxygen be making things foggier? He asked when Gia’s history project was going to be done. He’d helped her with some of the research. I told him she had to finish by tonight. He closed his eyes.

“Are you tired?” I asked.

“No, I’m fine.” He opened his eyes and stared at the television a moment. “So, when will Gia finish her … her thing?” he asked again.

“Her project?” I asked. He nodded. “Tonight.” I leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. “Dad, you rest.” He was relieved and closed his eyes again. Within moments he was breathing in a steady rhythm along with the oxygen machine. He was so peaceful. I watched him sleep the way I used to watch Gia. When I turned away from his bed to leave, he began yelling and thrashing in the bed so forcefully that he knocked his pillow on the floor. I was alarmed but didn’t think I should wake him. I picked up the pillow and waited for him to be calm again, but just as I was about to put the pillow under his head, his arms began flailing so wildly that I was afraid if I got too close, he’d accidentally hit me. I placed the pillow on a chair and wandered out, feeling uneasy.

I found Julia near the nurses’ station. “Is my father on any new medications? He seems more forgetful, and he was just having some crazy dream.”

“He’s not on any new meds, and the staff has been keeping an eye on him. He’s been having a rough time, especially when he sleeps.” It made my stomach lurch to hear the concern in her voice. “I’ll keep you posted,” she said.

I thanked her and was on my way out when she asked if I could assist a few of the residents before I left. Ever since I’d helped that one day, she’d ask me to do things for the residents. She’d flatter me and go on and on about how indispensable I was, but I enjoyed helping because it made me feel useful, and I wanted to check on my dad again later anyway. Besides, flattery always worked on me.