Page 60 of Fly with Me

“The caregiver I’m currently thinking about firing.” Stella’s teeth gritted together.

“Be nice to Jocelyn, Mijita. She’s going through a very tough divorce right now.”

She hooked his cane onto the handle of the wheelchair and wheeled him back into the living room. “You’re only supposed to try yoga poses when the physical therapist is here.”

“What can I say?” He reached a shaking hand to her chin and then flicked her nose, which took a couple of tries. “I forgot.”

Stella ground her teeth together. “Not funny.”

“I’d say too soon—that’s what the kids say, right, Olive?”

Olive nodded feebly.

“But if I waited to make the too soon jokes, and I was too late, I’d be dead.”

Olive thought it was possible that Stella’s brain might explode.

It was hard to tell about such things.

Stella began cleaning nonexistent messes, which involved stacking and restacking books and coasters. Everything was perfectly neat, but it wasn’t the minimalist wonderland Olive expected. Stella’s father obviously loved color as much as Olive did. There was color everywhere, with photos of planes in frames mounted on an exposed brick wall. On one wall was a large set of Catholic religious iconography with a collection of colorful candles beneath it.

There were a few blankets with similar patterns to the one that Stella had let her borrow in the car on the way to Orlando. On one wall, there were some black-and-white framed photos of a pilot with an old fighter plane who, she assumed, must have been Stella’s grandfather. Throw pillows were neatly arranged on a gray sofa, and a medical grade recliner chair stood in the corner with an iPad on an accessibility stand. Hector pushed up from the wheelchair and moved to the recliner. Stella adjusted the cushion behind him and put a blanket over his legs.

His shoulders were hunched, his shirt loose as if he had lost weight recently. Muscle wasting? Stella had said he was diagnosed two years earlier. This was not a good sign. No wonder Stella was worried.

Olive hadn’t said anything beyond a flabbergasted nice to meet you, so it was probably time to begin speaking. “How are you feeling, Mr. Soriano?”

“Call me Hector.” He smiled. “Right as rain other than the fact I have Parkinson’s.”

“Can I take a quick look at you? I think it’ll make Stella feel better.”

“Do what you must.” He extended a hand to gesture to the seat beside him. “Especially if it will make my daughter stop harassing me.”

“I don’t harass you.”

He huffed rather than responding.

Olive took out her stethoscope and blood pressure cuff. “You remember everything from the fall?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t hit your head?”

He smiled at her. “No.”

“Okay. Where did you hit?”

“My elbow, hip, and knee.”

A small yelping sound came from Stella, but Hector silenced it with a pointed glance.

“Hector, I’m not a doctor, but I can at least see if I think there’s any cause for Stella to harass you into going and getting an X-ray. At the end of the day, everything’s your choice for your care, and I’ll give you my best opinion. But that’s all it is, one person’s opinion. And whatever you choose to do is your choice.”

“She seems smart, Mija.”

“She is.”

“Not sure if I’m nearly as fun to take care of as Mickey Mouse…” He chuckled.