Page 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

The next couple of days are a blur. School is different now that Dylan seeks me out between classes and sits with us at lunch. He gets along great with the girls, and Bek can’t tell me often enough how sweet he is. I roll my eyes every single time she says it. Even if she is right. Mom spends a couple more days in the hospital, and Joel and I are doing our best to make sure the house is ready for her.

Because she works at night, the windows in her bedroom are always closed and covered in heavy drapes. We open it all up to air it out. We vacuum, dust, and wash the sheets. Her bedside table is small and cluttered, so Joel fabricates a new one from a rickety table we found on the side of the house, a larger piece of plywood, and a two by four he uses as extra support. It isn’t pretty, so I cut up an old witch costume I wore one Halloween to make a tablecloth. It hides the Frankenstein look of the table perfectly.

The doctor says Mom should sit upright most of the time, so we steal the cushions from the back of the couch to prop her up. Finally, we drag the television from the living room into a corner of Mom’s bedroom to give her something to do. She’s the only one of us who ever bothers to watch the thing on a regular basis, so it isn’t like we’ll miss it.

Grandma tsk-tsks and grumbles the entire time we work in Mom’s room. Originally, Joel and I considered setting Mom up in the living room but decided her bedroom would give her privacy. Now, I realize it might also be the only way we can get through this without World War III breaking out daily.

Joel takes more time off work the day we bring Mom home. She came out of surgery with her full cognitive abilities, but it did take a toll on her physical state. She leans on Joel as she walks from the car into the house, and he almost has to carry her up the stairs. When we finally get her settled into bed, she’s exhausted and falls asleep almost immediately. She has black eyes from the surgery. Her head is wrapped in a thick swath of gauze. She looks tiny and helpless bundled under her thick quilt.

Joel and I go downstairs to figure out a schedule for her medication and meals. We have a whiteboard on the side of the refrigerator that we write the schedule on.

“Make sure you log when you do these things so that if I come in, I will know what needs to be done next and when.” Joel studies the chart to make sure everything we need is on it. “I’ll do the same, obviously.”

“What will I do?” Grandma says from behind us.

I look at her with my eyebrows raised.

Joel doesn’t bother to look at her. “You stay away from her so the two of you don’t fight.”

Grandma harrumphs, but trudges to the stairs and disappears into her basement.

Joel still studies the chart in earnest. He’s pinching his bottom lip as he considers the data and what we have ahead of us, and his brow is furrowed so deeply, it casts a shadow over his eyes. So, when he speaks, it is so at odds with his demeanor. “I think she’s turned into a troll.”

I burst into laughter. “I think you’re right.” I look at the door Grandma just stomped through and sigh. “I wish she was happier.”

“It would make life easier, that’s for sure.” Joel finally swings his attention from the chart and looks around the kitchen. “I wonder how long she’ll sleep. Maybe I should have gone to work anyway.”

“You can go!” I say. “I just have to make sure she takes her medication at 8:00.”

“What if she has to get up to go to the bathroom?”

“Have you noticed how tiny she is? I think I can help her.” I stuff my hands in my back pockets. “Did you get someone to cover for you?”

Joel shakes his head. “They’re short tonight.”

“Then get out of here, Joel! I may need you more when she isn’t so drugged up. Save the time off for when you need it.”

Joel screws up his mouth as he battles with his decision. Finally, he nods. “Okay, I’ll go. But text me or call the restaurant if you need me.”

“Promise!” I hold my hand up like I’m taking an oath.

He jumps forward and hugs me. “Thanks, sis.”

After Joel leaves, I pour a bowl of applesauce and sit down at the dining room table. My phone has buzzed a couple of times, and this is the first chance I have to see who it was.

The first message is from Sam in our group text asking how it’s going. I dash off a quick reply, bringing the girls up to date. Sam replies immediately.

Sam: Does she still know who you are?

Me: Totally coherent.

Bek: Do you need anything?

Me: Not right now. Heart emoji

Then I click out of that string to see who the other text is from, but it only has a phone number, not a name .

Phone number: Thinking about you. Hope all is going well.

Me: Nice of you. But who is this?

The three dots appear immediately, telling me the stranger is typing.

Phone number: Oh, sorry! It’s Dylan.

A thrill runs through me. I add his contact to my phone as my heart flutters excitedly. I love how attentive he is.

Me: Oh, my stalker. Cool. Good to know.

Me: But seriously, thanks for checking on us. Things are good, I guess. I didn’t drop Mom on her head yet, so thumbs up emoji.

Dylan: That is a real threat with you, too. I wonder if your mom realizes she is probably in more danger from you than she was from the tumors?

Me: I’m outraged!

Dylan: Wait…are you serious?

Me: No, I’m totally kidding and you’re totally right. Goofy face emoji.

Dylan: But you really are doing okay? You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?

Me: I’m fine. She’s sleeping. I think my hard work is ahead of me.

Dylan: That makes sense. Let me know if I can help. Remember, I helped with my mom when she was sick, so I come with experience.

I stare at the screen, not sure how to respond.

Me: Thanks, Dylan. Heart emoji.

As soon as I send it, I panic. Will he think I’m telling him I love him? I see the bubbles indicating he’s typing and my heart races.

Dylan: No problem!

I relax. He knew it was just an appreciation heart, not an actual love heart. Thank goodness Dylan speaks emoji.

I finish my applesauce and head up to my room to do homework. I peek into Mom’s room as I pass, relieved to see she’s still zonked out. I leave my bedroom door open so I can hear if she calls out.

It feels strange to settle down to do homework. I expected to be playing nurse 24/7, I guess.

When my alarm tone rings, I’m shocked to find it’s 8:00 already. I’m so glad I set the alarm, otherwise 8:00 would have come and gone without me noticing. I stop in the bathroom to get a cup of water before going into Mom’s room. She’s still asleep, so I feel horrible waking her, but they told us to stay on top of all the medications, especially the pain meds, because it’s harder to mask the pain if you let it come back. Or something like that. It made sense when they said it.

“Mom.” I stand at the side of the bed and stare down at her. She doesn’t budge. I put the glass of water on the table and open the pill bottles, shaking one of each into my hand. She gets one of each now and then pain again in six hours, and then all of them again at 8:00 a.m. “Mom.”

Still nothing. God, I’m going to have to shake her awake. I clutch the pills in my fist and place my hands on her shoulders, shaking gently. “Mom, time to take your pills.”

She startles awake and winces.

I wrinkle my nose at her as she blinks at me with a blank expression. “Time for your pills. Can you sit up?”

She tries, but it’s immediately obvious she doesn’t have the strength or the dexterity. I slip my arm behind her back and pull. By the time she’s sitting, we are both winded. I hold out my fist. “Here.”

She takes the pills and I hand her the glass. Her hand shakes as she tips the glass to her mouth. She tosses all the pills into her mouth at once and takes another sip. I watch, open-mouthed, as she successfully swallows them all at the same time and hands me the glass of water back. I set the glass back on the table and then help her lay down again. I take great care to pull the blankets up and tuck her in snug. It makes me feel like I’m a caregiver and that I know what I’m doing when she smiles wanly and closes her eyes again.

On my way back to my room, I pivot and head downstairs to update the log. Having it downstairs is inconvenient, so I bring the board upstairs and replace a picture on the wall outside Mom’s room with the chart. I log the time for all the meds I gave her and stand back to admire my work. I feel good about this. We can do this.

I head back to my room and text Joel to tell him where I moved the board. He says he will take the 2:00 a.m. shift this time. Being a senior, he doesn’t have a first-period class, so he’ll also be able to take the morning shift as well. He usually goes into the library to do his homework, so he can give me a ride to school. Sam’s happy to pick me up instead.

I smile to myself. We’ve totally got this. We just have to figure out the 2:00 pm shift.