Page 11 of Sunny Side Up Diner
“Okay,” I said, feeling bad that I was going to have to bail on Carson. He’d seemed so excited to have me staying with him. I just hoped he could forgive me. “I’ll get my stuff from my friend’s apartment and bring it over tonight.”
That seemed to appease Mrs. Parks. She nodded as she turned and continued up the stairs. “George is just going to be so excited to see you. I’ve been keeping the fact that you were coming a secret from him ever since your mom called me.”
She was waiting for me at the top of the stairs. I paused when I joined her and waited for her to indicate the direction we were to go. “This way,” she said softly.
We walked down the hallway to the second to the last room on the left. Her shoulders visibly sank as we stood outside the ornate door. I wondered if I should offer to open it, but then decided to just let her take her time. She’d open the door when she was ready.
“He’s gotten really weak,” she whispered, tears forming once again on her lids.
“I understand,” I said, my voice deepening from the emotions that always rose to the surface when I thought about my dad.
She reached out her hand and patted mine. “That’s right. You would understand.”
She sucked in her breath and turned back to the door. Her hand that was hanging by her side started tapping a beat. It was almost as if she were counting down in her mind. Then she forced a wide smile as she reached out and turned the handle.
“Look who I found,” she announced as she pushed into the room.
The tone in her voice reminded me of the way my mother had introduced the main event at my eighth birthday party. It felt strange to be announced that way.
All gazes fell on me, including George’s. There were two nurses in the room. One was standing by a small standup computer desk, and the other was leaning over Mr. Parks, who was lying on the bed. It only took the nurses a moment to move past Mrs. Parks’ announcement and return to what they had been doing before we entered.
“Asher! My boy!” Mr. George bellowed as he waved away the nurse that had been checking on him. He pushed his fists into the bed so he could sit further up against the headboard. His skin looked paper thin and ashen. It hurt to see him like this. He was a shadow of the man he’d always been.
I forced a smile as I approached the bed. “Hey, Mr. P.” I leaned over the bed to give him a hug, making sure that I was also cognizant of where all the tubes and cords were so I didn’t accidentally tug on any of them. “You look great,” I said as I pulled away and smiled down at him.
“You lie, but I appreciate it,” he said, his smile faltering for a moment before it returned. “Come, sit and tell me what you’ve been up to.”
One of the nurses had stepped up to the bed. “Mr. Parks, Sam is almost here.” She eyed me warily before returning her attention to Mr. Parks.
I raised my eyebrows, not wanting to interrupt whatever treatment this Sam was here to do.
Mr. Parks just waved her away. “Not right now,” he said. “I want to catch up with Asher.”
“Don’t miss an appointment on my account,” I said as I raised my hands and gave the nurse a look that said I meant it.
She glanced at me and then back to Mr. Parks, but he beat her to saying anything. “Nonsense, Asher. Stay. Sam can come back later.”
“Are you sure?”
“Please.” Between the look in Mr. Parks’ eyes and the pleading in his voice, I found myself lowering down onto the chair next to the bed. I couldn’t say no to him, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to stay.
I missed my dad so much. And when I was around Mr. Parks, he filled the void that had been created when my dad passed. I hated that I’d taken Mr. Parks’ health for granted. If I could go back and spend more time with the man, I would have.
For now, I was going to soak up every moment I could with him.
Mr. Parks only lasted about an hour before his eyes started to close and his body sunk into the bed. I glanced up to Mrs. Parks. She nodded softly, and I knew what she wasn’t saying—it was time to let him sleep. I quietly stood and made my way out of the room and into the hallway. Mrs. Parks followed after me, closing the door once we were standing side by side in the hall.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. Her gaze was weary, and for the first time, I noticed the dark circles under her eyes. It was something I recognized from my mother. She was exhausted. “You’re hungry,” she said before I could answer. “Chef Mitchel is out for the afternoon, but he said that Ingrid just stocked the fridge. Let me make you something.” She started to head for the stairs, but I reached out and gently grabbed her elbow.
“Mrs. Parks, please,” I said. The last thing I wanted this woman to do was worry about me. “Go lie down. I’ll find my way to the kitchen.” I waved toward my body. “I’m a big boy now. I can make myself some food.”
Her gaze ran over me, and a sense of sadness settled around her. “That is true,” she said. Then she lifted her hand up to my cheek and held it there. “I remember when you were just a young boy, trying to make bread with only flour and water.”
I laughed as the memory of trying to eat the bricks of dried paste came back to me. “Well, I will tell you, I have progressed in the food-making department.”
She smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.”
She tried to stop the yawn that threatened to emerge, but that struggle was in vain. I stepped forward and wrapped my hand around her arm. “Go sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” I pulled back, letting my arms drop to my sides.
