Page 57 of Corkscrew You
Outside his building, I feel safe enough to breathe out. And then I stand there, car keys in hand, wondering what the hell to do now.
It’s four-thirty on a Friday afternoon. Day’s almost done. I could drive back to Flora Valley Wines and demand Shelby tells me what happened to her. But then I can one hundred percent guarantee that if she’s upset, I will pull her into my arms, and I don’t trust my willpower to prevent that contact escalating into something much more intimate.
It was torture enough this morning, trying to keep that hug friendly. The feel of her against me, thescentof her, sets every nerve end jangling like the fallout alert at a nuclear power plant. She’s established permanent residency in a part of my mind, and I’malwaysaware of her, even when sweating over numbers, like today.
I thought it would be tough taking a break from her. I didn’t think it would rank right up there with the twelve tasks of Hercules. In fact, shovelling ten tons of shit from the Augean stables seems pretty attractive right now. Herc, bro, you had it easy.
My phone beeps with a text, and the lovesick part of me hopes it’s Shelby, giving me an excuse to drive back and see her.
It’s Danny. Dad’s out of hospital. Mom’s requested my presence for a family dinner.
Sure. Let’s pretend like everything is normal, Mom. Let’s talk about sport, and the weather, and force Max to play the piano for us. Why don’t we play Go Fish afterwards, just for old times’ sake?
Wow, Nate, you’re being a serious prick. This is yourfamily. Your father’s ill, and your mother is worried out of her mind that she’s going to lose the man she loves. Your brothers and sisters are putting their lives on hold to be here, and all you can do is think shitty, resentful thoughts. Just becauseyourlife is a steaming pile of crap doesn’t mean you have the right to dump on others. Get a grip. Go have dinner.
I go. I act normal, as does everyone else. We all ignore the constant hum of underlying tension. Max plays the piano while we have coffee. Danny brings out the cards and we start a game of Go Fish. I catch Ava’s eye only once but it’s enough. She’s in the same space as I am, and no doubt the others are, too. We’re making an effort for Mom.
Dad goes to bed early. He didn’t say two words over dinner, and he still looks weak and worn. After making sure he’s settled, Mom comes back down and tells us that heisnow taking medication, and apparently even considering having an ICD put in. That stands for implantable cardioverter defibrillator. It monitors your heart rhythms and sends an electric pulse if things start to go haywire. The procedure is minimally invasive, performed under a local anesthetic.
Mom’s tone is bright, hopeful, like it’s a done deal. It’s Danny who says what we’re all thinking.
“When does he have to make a decision?”
“Oh, I guess, in the next few days,” says Mom.
None of us comments, but I guarantee we’re all thinking the same thing. Evenoneday is plenty of time for Dad to research a raft of alternative cures, and to talk himself out of the sensible option.
As if sensing our skepticism, Mom hops out of the chair.
“I made a new batch of cookies. I’ll fetch them.”
When she’s out of the room, we all exchange looks of varying levels of despair.
“JP’s planning to drop by this weekend,” I say. “Never know. He and Dad are so competitive, if JP uses reverse psychology, Dad might do it to spite him.”
“Is he bringing Petra?” says Danny, in a casual tone that fools no one.
I meet his gaze. “Didn’t say.”
Ava rolls her eyes. “She’s the same age as Mom.”
“Yeah, well, I’m going to let Freud worry about that one,” says Danny, with a grin.
“Ee-yew!” says Izzy, as Max chimes in with, “That iswrong.”
Suddenly, from the kitchen comes a sound of crashing china. As one, the five of us leap up and sprint to the adjacent room.
Mom’s leaning on the kitchen counter, face in her hands, shoulders shaking. A plate is in pieces on the floor, cookies strewn among the shards.
Danny reaches her first, wraps his arms round her. Izzy fetches a brush and pan, as Ava and Max start to pick up the bits of cookie and china.
I approach Mom and touch her gently on the hair. The gesture seems to bring her to herself, and she straightens up and out of Danny’s hug.
“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to startle you. It was just me being clumsy.”
Another exchange of glances pinballs between the five of us.
“Mom.” I designate myself spokesperson. “We’ll make Dad see sense. We’ve been relatively polite and patient up till now, but it’s time to take the gloves off. We’ll rope in Doc Wilson and even JP if we have to. EvenDadcan’t be so bull-headed as to ignoreeveryonewho loves him.”
