Page 65 of Mother Clucker

“You look like crap.”

“Wow. Thanks, sis. Love you too.” Even though I was barely functioning as a human, sarcasm came easy to me this morning.

“I’m telling you that because I love you. Go home. Shower. Eat something not from the vending machine or the cafeteria. Lay down in a real bed for a few hours. You’ve been here for days.”

She was right. And I was starting to smell like I’d been here for days.

Luckily, my suitcase was still in the truck so I had changed clothes once during my bedside vigil and at least I had a toothbrush and deodorant. But washing with soap and water and scratchy brown paper towels in the bathroom sink here could only keep a man from stinking for so long.

If nothing else, I needed to stretch my legs—and my back. A nice pounding hot shower on my screaming muscles might keep me from being a cripple.

“Okay.” I stood. “You’ll stay until I get back?”

“Yes. I promise.”

“Where’s the rug rat?” I asked.

“Preschool.”

“Preschool?” I frowned. “Jesus, isn’t he like three?”

“It’s only half a day.”

Damn, times had changed. I don’t remember going to school until I was like six. Maybe five. But my experience with modern parenting, if written down, would fill a matchbook so I didn’t question my sister.

“All right.” My gaze hit upon the man motionless on the bed. He looked less like my father every day. “Call me if he wakes up.”

“I will.”

We didn’t discuss it any more than that. I didn’t want to admit aloud that I was rapidly losing hope. If Amy still had any, who was I to squash it?

“Okay. I’m going. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

She nodded. “All right. No rush.”

I was like a zombie when I left the room. I paused for a moment to get my bearings and figure out where I was going. I finally comprehended that I needed to turn right toward the exit and my truck in the parking lot, since I’d been turning left to the bathroom and the cafeteria for days now.

I was just walking through the exit door, fishing in my pocket for my keys and wondering when the sun had gotten so damn glaring, when my sister’s voice stopped me.

Turning, I saw her running after me with my cell phone in her hand. “You forgot this.”

My spare charger was in California. And now I’d left the charger I’d grabbed from the house and my phone both in the ER.

I let out a sigh. “What else is new?”

“Somebody called. It was vibrating so I answered it,” Amy said.

“Oh? Who was it?”

“I don’t know. They hung up when I answered. Maybe it was a solicitor? I didn’t recognize the area code.”

“Okay.” I took the phone, too tired to worry about it. I could look at the incoming call log and see the number later. No big deal. “See you in a little while.”

“Take your time. David, I’m serious.”

“Yes, Mother.” My lips twitched as she narrowed her gaze at me.

She turned toward the entrance again, mumbling, “Smart ass.”

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