“When did you get so wise?”
Ma laughed. “Your grandma and I may not have gotten along, but she raised me, and some things stuck. Now, let’s get back to dinner. I want to try that fancy cupcake you got me.”
* * *
Chills scraped my spine when I crossed over the Georgia border into Alabama the next morning. I zoned out and sped until I reached Birmingham. I grabbed my cell and dialed Vic. “I’m here, little brother.”
“At the home?”
“No, but I just entered the city. GPS says I should be there in twenty minutes or less. Who should I ask for when I get there?”
“They have your name. Just sign in and mention his name.”
“Cool. See you soon.” I cut off the call before he could shower me with more gratitude. I didn’t want it. In fact, I was slightly miffed that I was in this situation. I wanted to confront Victor on my own terms. I couldn’t exactly curse a dying man out.
I finally arrived in front of the hospice, Summerhill Homes. The facility was nice enough, and it sat perched atop a hill that made me wonder why in the hell they would put an old folks’ home that high. Poor orderlies. Oh, and old people, too.
The sign was slightly faded, but the landscaping was lush. Mixes of different color flowers I couldn’t name and bright green bushes made the outside welcoming. But once I entered the building, I knew it couldn’t mask the stench of death. Antiseptics, soiled clothes, and bleach assailed my nose.
“Raina Williams here to see Victor Williams,” I told the college-aged boy at the desk.
He pointed to a clipboard on the desk. “Sign in and I’ll radio our facilities coordinator.”
After I signed in, I lingered in the hallway. Not quite sure what to do with myself, I thrummed my wiggling fingers against the wall in the hallway and hummed a little, nothing in particular but something to quell my need to run away and never come back.
“Ms. Williams?”
“Right here.” I raised my hand like an elementary school student being called to the principal’s office.
“C’mon back,” the woman in purple scrubs said. “Your brother and father are waiting for you.”
“Oh, Victor, um, Senior isn’t asleep?” I glanced at my cell phone. It was just eight a.m.
“Nope, he’s wide awake. He’s been so excited he could barely sleep last night.”
“Awesome.” I followed the caretaker down the hallway. Soft music and televisions cut through the eerie silence that had met me at the front of the building.
My gladiator sandals squeaked against the linoleum flooring until we finally arrived in front of the door.
“Knock, knock!” Her voice was slow and bright, the perfect impression of a kindergarten teacher. “Mr. Williams, your daughter is here.”
Daddy lay tucked under covers in bed, a breathing tube under his nose and the oxygen tank on the side of the bed.
His nutmeg skin had paled. When he gave a tired wave, I noticed large veins protruded from his hand.
“Raina.” His voice was weak, shaking and vibrating with emotion.
“Hey.” I gave an awkward wave.
Vic smiled from his chair and then stood. “Good to see you, Rae-Rae.” He gave me a hug.
He waved at his chair. “Take a seat.”
“Oh, I’ll get another one. I don’t want to take yours.”
“That’s okay. I’m about to head out soon anyway.”
“What?” I turned away, my back to Daddy, who was staring on in interest. I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I thought you were staying, too.”
“I’ll be back after work tomorrow. They want me to come in for the day. I need to wrap up a project.”
“And you can’t do it from here? Your father is dying.” Sure, it was a low blow, but I couldn’t be here by myself. I wrung my hands.
“Not cool, Raina,” he whispered. “I’ve been here taking care of the old man. I need you to do me a solid. If you don’t want to talk to him, fine. He can’t talk that much anyway. Just read a book, watch TV, and kick up your feet. Relax.”
“Sure.” I narrowed my eyes. “Because watching your father die at a hospice is just like a weekend at the spa.”
Vic twitched his lips. “Sarcasm doesn’t become you.”
“Nor you.” I rolled my eyes.
Daddy wheezed from behind me. Looking up to the ceiling, I sighed and then looked back at my brother. “Fine. I’ll handle it. Go to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I knew you wouldn’t let me down. And Cam said you’d give in.”
Of course. He and Cam were still bosom buddies or whatever. Despite the mention of my ex, my heart lifted. Someone depended on me. It felt nice. I punched his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Get out of here.”
* * *
For the past few hours, Daddy had slipped in and out of sleep. When he was awake, he stared at me, as if committing me to memory. Tears would gather and I’d look away. I hadn’t said anything to him yet. What was there to say?
Daddy wheezed again, grabbing my attention away from the rain pelting on the window.
“Come.” He waved at me and then patted the bed.
“Um, I don’t know about that, old man.”
“Need to tell you something. Not over there.” His breathing was labored.
“All right. All right.” I settled in bed next to him. From the other side, he grabbed a small whiteboard.
Writer? He wrote in a shaky script.
I nodded.
Read to me.
“You want me to read what I’ve written?”
He nodded, smiling.
I sighed, shaking my head. “Um, I don’t know. I’m still making edits, so it’s a little rough.”
He pointed to the board again, silently demanding that I read to him.
“Okay.” I wasn’t sure why he wanted to hear my ramblings, but for some reason, I couldn’t deny his request. Oddly, I was proud. Proud that he would know that I had grown up to be a writer, despite his neglect.
I pulled the tablet from my backpack and powered it up. “Okay, I guess I’ll start from the beginning.”
For the next hour, I read my book out loud. Daddy smiled huge and even laughed a few times, losing his breath. I would stop when he did.
He grabbed his whiteboard. Keep going.
“I had a whiteboard, too, at my old job at the radio station. I used to be a radio personality, and I would play hangman when I had crazy callers.”
Listened to every show.
I snorted. “Sure you did.”
He nodded earnestly and erased the whiteboard. Jeffrey the Cat. He pointed to the board and smiled, then erased again.
“Oh, the song dedication to the cat. Good times. Okay, so you listened to my recent work.”
Girl. Suicide.
“H-how? How did you hear about her? That was back in college.” Nadia had sent me an email a few months ago. She and her husband had just found out she was preggers with baby #3. She’d also sent a family picture. I was so happy for her. She had healed and started a new life with a good man, despite losing her mom, father, and sister in a car accident when they were on their way back home from a visit with her in college.
I listened to EVERY show.
I smiled, believing him this time. I kept on reading.