Page 100 of The No Touch Roommate Rule
His gaze slides over me as he turns, dismissing me without a second’s hesitation before settling on his son. “Leo.” One word, but it says so much. Specimen identified. Found wanting. Proving to be as irritating as usual. “Finally. We’re transferring your grandmother to Tulane Medical. I’ve made the arrangements, but I have several things I’ll need you to take care of at the house. I can only spare a day. Maybe three, if I can get my board meeting on Tuesday postponed.”
Parker’s shoulder blade spasms against my palm—Morse code forwhat the actual fuck is going on—but his voice is remarkably steady as he replies, “I don’t think she needs to be transferred, Dad. They said she’s doing better this morning.”
His father snorts. “Better than what? Better than dead? She’s being transferred. End of story. I don’t have time to fly to Mississippi again the next time this happens. She needs to be closer to New Orleans.”
“Well,Ihave time,” Parker says, still steady, proving he’s a far better person than I am. If this were my dad, I’d already be throwing “what the fucks” around like candy off a Mardi Gras float. “I’ll stay with her until we’re sure she’s on the mend. I know Nana. She’ll want to be here. With her friends and her house and?—”
“She’s eighty-two years old,” his dad cuts in. “What she wants is irrelevant.”
Parker scowls. “Why? She’s not senile, Dad.”
“No, just delusional. Living alone in that giant house, she’s too tired to clean, refusing assisted living, wasting what energy she does have on ridiculous crafts.”
Parker’s spine stiffens. “Those crafts are art. She’s an artist, Dad, a really good one. And she raises thousands of dollars for charity every year with?—”
“Please.” His father’s laugh is like lemon juice on a paper cut. I have to fight the urge to flinch as it booms through the hall around us, too loud and completely unconcerned with the sick people nearby who need their rest. “Your grandmother knits dicks, Leo. And paints dicks. And makes giant sculptures of middle fingers to stick in her front yard. That’s not art. It’s sad. She gave up on real art and turned herself into a punchline a long time ago.”
“What’s sad is that you don’t give a shit about what your own mother wants at the end of her life,” Parker says, his voice pitching up. “When’s the last time you even visited her? Two Christmases ago? Three?”
“I have a business to run. And it’s not like she remembers it when I do make the time to fly in.”
“Yes, she does!” Parker takes a breath, lowering his volume as he adds, “Shedoes. She’s not senile.” Phillip grunts, but Parker doubles down, “She’s not, Dad. Not even a little bit.”
“I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree.” His father checks his watch, as if the conversation is starting to bore him. “The transfer’s happening this afternoon. If you don’t want to help close up the house, I guess I can hire someone.”
Parker’s expression ripples with barely suppressed rage. “Over my dead body.”
“Pull yourself together, Leo,” Phillip says, his upper lip curling. “I’m the one calling the shots here. I’m her son.”
“AndI’mher medical proxy.” Parker’s hands are balled into fists now, even as his tone goes frosty to match his father’s. “We took care of the paperwork two summers’ ago, after you tried to put her in that shitty home in Metairie. So, you can take about ten steps back and take a seat, Dad. I’m not doing jack shit until I talk to Nana and see what she wants.”
His father goes still. The kind of still that happens before a shitstorm explodes. “You didn’t. You’re lying.”
“I don’t lie,” Parker says, a mean smile curving his lips. “That’s your gig, Pops, not mine.”
I bite my lip, genuinely concerned this might come to blows, right here in the hospital corridor. The nurse has abandoned her station entirely.
Smart woman.
The fluorescent above us flickers, as if the violent, potential energy crackling in the air between them is affecting its electric field.
“You think you’ve won something?” his father seethes. “Your grandmother’s dying. If not today, soon. Thanks to you, she’ll die alone in a shitty Mississippi hospital. Probably sooner than later, from what I’ve seen of their standard of care.”
“Maybe,” Parker says. “But it’s what she wants. And she won’t be alone. People like Nana always have people who love them close by.”
His father’s lips slide into a crooked smile. “I don’t know what’s sadder. How naïve you sound, or the fact that you actually seem to believe life is ever that Polly-fucking-anna perfect.”
“Oh, shut up, already,” I hear myself blurt out.
Both men swing their heads to face me, looking shocked in different ways, but fuck it.
I can’t just stand here anymore while his father runs his stupid mouth.
“Sorry,” I say, not sounding sorry at all. “But there’s nothing naïve in thinking that Chaz will die surrounded by people who love her. I love her already, and I barely know her. But I’d still drop everything and hit the road if I heard she was sick, and that’s the truth. She’s an incredible woman you should be so proud of.”
Mr. Parker arches a brow, his gaze raking over me like I’m a waitress who dared to interrupt his dinner conversation. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
Even after a second look, he really doesn’t seem to recognize me.
