“Yes, of course. I’ll let my assistant know you’ll be back.”
With that I let Dad lead the way out of the office again, Mom close behind me. I feel a warm hand in the middle of my back and a soft voice in my ear.
“Thank you, honey.”
It’s almost five when we finally walk out of the hospital.
We had a good talk over lunch, with Mom voicing her concerns, me providing some medical insight, and Dad explaining his reasons for wanting to go ahead with the surgery. When Dad mentioned he needed to try everything possible to maximize the time he has left with her, he cemented the decision for Mom. He even had me in tears.
The rest of the afternoon was spent hopping from test to test, and we walk out of the hospital with an appointment for surgery four weeks away. I can tell it’s taken a toll on Dad especially.
“I’m taking the back seat,” he announces. “That way I can have a snooze while you girls yap.”
“Why is it always women who yap?” Mom immediately has her tired hackles up.
“Because you do. Yap, chatter, gossip, babble, jabber. It’s what women do.” I bite my lip, trying not to laugh at Mom’s disgruntled huff. I remember these types of exchanges from when I was young.
“Are you saying men don’t?”
“Men confer, huddle, and once in a blue moon shoot the shit, but real men never yap.”
My mother’s almost ready to blow so I quickly intervene, reaching over to put a hand on her arm.
“Remember, Mom, this comes from a man who still reads the Sunday funnies first.”
“And likes his toast cut in perfect triangles,” she adds, grinning at me.
“And cries like a baby when his Cardinals get eliminated in the playoffs.” I wink at her.
“See? Yapping,” Dad contributes, sticking his head between our seats. “I’m having a nap.”
Five minutes later the occasional snore drifts from the back.
“He’s tired,” Mom notes.
“I’d be worried if he wasn’t. Heck, I’m tired. Been a long day, Mom.”
“Yeah, it has.” She suddenly sounds exhausted herself and I reach over to give her hand a squeeze.
“It’ll be okay, Mom.”
“I hope so, honey. God, I hope so. I don’t think I’d survive the alternative.”
Rafe
“Have you heard anything from Taz?”
I’ve barely got my foot over the threshold at Kathleen and Brent’s.
“She called earlier to tell me they’re running late. Doing some testing. We’ll find out soon enough.”
“It’s too much, having to deal with this after Nicky’s death,” she concludes, leading the way to the kitchen where Brent is tossing back a beer at the counter.
“Beer?” he asks, holding up his empty as he walks over to the fridge.
“Sure.” Taz won’t likely be home soon, and from what I can see through the sliding doors, the kids are having a blast in the pool.
“You wanna stay for burgers?”
I’m frankly shocked Kathleen would ask me. She’s never made any bones about letting me know I’m not exactly her favorite person, although I have noticed a slight warming in recent days.
“Well—”
“It’ll give the kids a chance to dry up over dinner before you load them in the truck.”
“Yeah, if you sure there’s enough, we’ll stay. Thanks.” I nod to Kathleen who grants me a hint of a smile.
Brent hands me a beer, and indicates for me to follow him outside to the deck. Spencer notices me right away.
“Dad! Look what I can do!”
If not for the life vest he’s wearing, I’d have a heart attack watching him run down the diving board, straight into the deep end of the pool. Brent chuckles behind me as he fires up the grill.
“That’s great, Son.” I give him two thumbs-up and he beams. In the meantime, Sofie has pulled herself out of the water and is making her way over. “Hey, Pipsqueak. You having fun too?”
She nods and keeps walking until she has her arms wrapped around me, her wet body drenching my clothes. I bend down and kiss the top of her head. “Do we need to get ready?” she asks.
“Not yet. Kathleen asked us to stay for dinner.”
She lifts her face. “What about Aunt Taz?”
I smile down at her. “She’s out with Grandma and Grandpa. She’ll be home later.”
“Can I go back in the water?”
“Sure. Until dinner’s ready, okay?”
In a flash she’s gone, jumping back in the pool with the other kids.
“Brent?” Kathleen’s head pops outside. “Before you toss the burgers on, could you run out and pick me up some mustard? I ran out and I need it to finish the potato salad.”
“I can do it,” I offer, and she looks me up and down.
“No you can’t, you look like someone hosed you down. Besides, you can keep me company.” She throws me a sneaky smile before her head disappears inside.
“Warning,” Brent mutters under his breath. “My advice? Say as little as possible, you won’t need to. Oh, and nod—a lot.”
I follow him inside and watch him give his wife a peck before he walks out the door with mild apprehension. When I turn to Kathleen she’s staring at me.
“Don’t look so panicked,” she notes, turning her focus back on the potatoes. “I’m not gonna bite. I just feel I need to clear the air.”
I pull out a stool and sit down, taking a fortifying sip from my beer. “Okay.”
“I blamed you for a lot of things over the years,” she starts. I don’t say anything, because frankly I have no idea how to respond to that. Luckily Kathleen needs no prompting. “You made my two friends very unhappy.” She lifts her hand when I open my mouth to protest, and I immediately snap it shut. Best to let her get it out so I nod instead, as Brent recommended. “I get now you were doing what you thought was right, but I’m still gonna tell you it was stupid. Not that you were the only one I was pissed at. I was pissed at Taz for disappearing, and I was pissed at Nicky for stepping out on you. But I already loved them so it was easier to blame all of it on you.” I shouldn’t be surprised she knows about Nicky’s indiscretions, but it nevertheless makes me feel like a chump. Still, I only nod. “I just wanted to tell you I’m not pissed anymore,” she says, pinning with a hard glance. “That is, unless you fuck up with Taz, then I reserve the right to hunt you down and shoot you.”
A pregnant pause follows in which she stares me down, until I finally ask, “Is it okay for me to speak now?”
“Nobody likes a smart-ass, Rafe Thomas,” she snaps, turning back to her potato salad, as I fight back a grin.
“Right. First of all, I get it—no need to explain—and if it’s any consolation, I agree: I was stupid. Hindsight being twenty-twenty. I also need you to know I don’t regret it, because that would mean to regret them.” I look outside where my kids are having fun in the water. “Secondly—and the only reason I’m giving you this is because I know you love Taz—I’m not going to hurt her. I’d rather cut off my dick than hurt that woman.”