Beauty and the Mustache by Penny Reid

would seem that you are the decider. So, Dr.
Decider, please tell me what I can do to help you. ”
    His eyes narrowed and
searched mine. He seemed confused by my response. Obviously, it
sure as heck wasn’t what he’d been expecting me to say. Most
likely, I guessed, he thought I was going to launch a full-scale
attack with woman-hysterics, accusations, and manipulative
maneuverings.
    But that wasn’t how I
rolled. Prolonged irrationality wasn’t in my wheelhouse.
Recrimination was not my homeboy.
    So we stared at each
other.
    I cleared my face of all
expression and waited for direction. This was a ninja trait I’d
perfected while interacting with egomaniac physicians. I clenched
my teeth to keep from telling him what I thought he could do with
his power of attorney, where he could shove it, and whether the sun
shined in that particular locale.
    Finally he spoke, “Your
mother appointed me to this role because she didn’t want any of you
to have to think about end-of-life decisions. She did this to spare
you, not to hurt you.” It was obvious he was choosing his words
carefully. His tone was reasonable, imploring, even
gentle.
    I nodded. He made sense,
but it didn’t make me feel any better.
    I glanced around the room.
“She’s coming home today. What have you decided regarding her
care?”
    He grimaced, frowned,
sighed. “I’m not trying to usurp your role, Ashley.” He sounded
frustrated.
    I glared at him again, my
jaw set. I spoke slowly so I wouldn’t be tempted to scream. “And
I’m not arguing with you. You have all the power in this situation.
I just want to know what I can do to help.”
    Jethro finally spoke up,
placing a hand on my knee. “I just found out, Ashley. I had no idea
either. But I trust Drew. And Momma obviously trusted him. You know
how she is, not wanting to burden anybody. Drives me
crazy.”
    I gave my brother a small,
conspiratorial smile. Jethro’s confession softened my hard edges. I
covered his hand with mine and squeezed. “No point in getting
twisted up in things that don’t matter. What matters is that Momma
is coming home today.”
    I returned my gaze to
Drew. “If you’re waiting for me to freak out, that’s what my little
laughing fit was. I’m over it. It’s done. Nothing I can do about
this situation other than live through it. So, again, what have you
all decided, and what can I do to help?”
    Drew crossed his arms over
his chest and glared down at me with skepticism. “We all talked a
little this morning about how to handle the next few weeks,
but….”
    He paused when he saw my
eyes widen. My blood pressure spiked, my vision turned red, yet I
ignored my murderous impulses. I breathed in and out and listened
with all outward appearance of calm.
    “ But your brothers said
that you were likely the only one who had some rough idea of what
to expect and how best to plan and proceed. This is assuming that
you’ll be staying in Tennessee.”
    I nodded, my acute
hypertension gradually declining to near baseline levels. Drew was
asking for my opinion. I didn’t know if it was a token olive branch
or if he’d just handed me an olive orchard. Regardless, it was a
step in the right direction.
    “ Okay, well, I think we
should put her in the den. It’s downstairs, has a door, and is on
the quiet side of the house. I can tell you that hospice will be
providing two nurses, one to stay during the day, and one to stop
in at night to monitor her condition. Regardless, I’m going to put
a cot in the den and sleep in there with her.”
    Drew frowned. “You’ll need
sleep, good sleep. If you stay with your mother, your sleep is
likely to be interrupted. How can you take care of her if you’re
exhausted during the day?”
    I swallowed my sharp retort
that where I slept was none of his business. “Someone in the family should stay
with her all the time. I don’t want her left alone.”
    “ The nurse will check in
on her.”
    “ But the nurse isn’t