Page 36 of Blind Date with a #FORMERPLAYER
“I could say the same about you. See you later, Gabe.”
“Thanks for dinner,” he adds as I walk out the door, wishing there was more I could do to help.
My abrupt exit leaves me feeling oddly forlorn and helpless.
Chapter 18
Layla
“I’m here,” Gabe says as more of a mantra, just before we walk in the front door at our mom’s small ranch. Neither of us are sure what to expect, and we only hope she’s okay.
Not able to speak, I reach out with my shaky hand and give his a squeeze, following him inside.
“Layla? Gabe? Is that you?” she calls. “I’m in the kitchen.”
“Yeah, it’s us, Mom. We’re coming,” Gabe answers for both of us.
We walk through the living room, Kleenex piled high on the coffee table next to cans of diet soda, empty water bottles and candy wrappers. We round the corner into the kitchen and my breath catches, an overwhelming stench fills our senses. I’m not sure if it’s spoiled milk or if my mom had an accident while she was waiting for help. We spot her sprawled on the linoleum floor in a dirty blue nightgown with broken glass surrounding her and a chair tipped over, too far to reach.
“I’m so sorry to bother you two, but I slipped and couldn’t get up. I wasn’t sure who else to call.”
My chest tightens and I struggle to breathe, wondering what she forgot to end up in this position and how long she waited before she called us. Fighting back my tears, I attempt to focus on the task at hand and force out words I hope will help calm all three of us. “It’s okay, mom. I’m glad you had your phone close by to call us. We’re here now.”
Gabe steps towards her, the glass crunching beneath his shoes. He reaches over, lifting her as if she weighs nothing and carefully placing her back on her feet outside the mess. “Why don’t you help mom get cleaned up and I’ll take care of everything in here,” he suggests.
I nod in agreement. “Thanks, Gabe.”
He gives me a sad but encouraging smile.
For the next hour and a half, I zone out, doing what I need to do to help my mom, my heart aching more every second. She doesn’t deserve this. No one does.
We finally tuck her into bed and climb into Gabe’s truck to head home. He grips the steering wheel tight, his knuckles turning white. “You didn’t tell me it had gotten this bad, Layla. It’s not safe for her to be there alone anymore.”
“She swore she was okay. I believed her. I thought she was doing better,” I sob, tears streaming down my face. “She’s way too young for this, Gabe.”
“The disease doesn’t give a fuck how old she is,” he snaps.
Gasping, I flinch away from him, reflexively crowding the window.
Heaving a sigh, he immediately apologizes. “I’m sorry. I just feel so fucking helpless.”
“Me too,” I concede.
We drive a few minutes in silence and he finally asks, “Is mom the real reason you haven’t searched for another job outside Love Canyon?”
My body sags in defeat. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
He turns into my driveway and shuts off the car. “I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with all of this alone.”
“I know.”
“We need to find her a place that can help her.”
I gulp down the lump in my throat. “Can’t we take turns helping her while you’re home? Like doing errands for her and checking on her more?”
“Sure, we can, but what about when I go back? You can’t do this by yourself anymore, Layla.”
A defeated sigh falls from my lips. “I know.”
