second to me,” he said. “And then Brandon and then my dad.”
“Has your dad been home this week?”
I shrugged. “He’s been there as much as he ever is lately, but he’s worthless to my mother. Sometimes when Mom is sick at night from the chemo and I go in to help her up to the bathroom, he’s laying right next to her, but he’s passed out from being stinking drunk and he doesn’t even hear her calling out for help. I locked her meds up, too.”
“Why?” Ariana asked, alarmed. “Was there a problem with the nurses?” Mom had hired two nurses that rotated shifts when I was at school or wanted to go out. We’d also brought in a hospital bed and shower chair and other equipment to keep her comfortable. She had a port in her chest where they gave her all of her injectable medications. I was her primary caregiver when the nurses weren’t there in the evenings and on the weekends. I’d learned a lot about cancer and medications…a lot more than I ever wanted to know.
“No, the nurses are great. It’s my father. She asked him to give her a pain pill the other night when the nurse left early and it was a couple hours before I came home. I got there and found her in excruciating pain. Her head hurt so badly she said she couldn’t even see straight. That was strange because the pills usually at least take the edge off. I’d just picked up her prescriptions that morning and the old pain pills had one left. When I opened the cabinet, there was still one pill in that bottle so I counted the new bottle. Those hadn’t been touched either. There was a bottle of Ibuprofen in there, too. That one was missing a pill. When I confronted him, he said that he hated how the morphine makes her “out of it.” We got into a fight about her being “out of it” versus being in pain to the point of not being able to tolerate it any longer. He had probably already drunk half a liter of bourbon. I don’t think he processed any of it. I don’t want him giving her meds to her while he’s drunk. Who knows what he might hand her?”
I didn’t tell Ariana that it nearly turned into a fistfight. Something about Mom being sick, or maybe it was just me being sick of it, had caused me to find the strength to tell him no more. I wasn’t going to stand by and let him smack me around any longer and if I had to use my own physical strength to prevent it, I would.
“Wow, that’s probably a really good call on your part.” Ariana reached across the table and took my hand in hers. “I wish I could do more for you.”
“Are you kidding? What other girlfriend would come over just to read to my mother or change her sheets after she vomits? Who else would encourage her to drink more water by cutting up fresh fruit and putting it at the bottom of the glass? You’re amazing, and I thank God every day for you. I don’t know if I could get through any of this without you.”
Ariana squeezed my hand. “You’ll never have to know,” she said. “And on that note, I told my mother I was having Thanksgiving at your house. I really might have to bring Brandon though because neither of my parents are speaking to him for defending you.”
I smiled. “The more the merrier,” I said. I hated that they gave her a hard time about me, but I loved that she wasn’t willing to stop seeing me because of it. “Do me a favor though?”
She looked up at me with those gorgeous eyes. I really wasn’t sure sometimes that I could wait for her birthday to make love to her. It was killing me. “What’s that?”
“Promise me you won’t feel guilty. You’re a good daughter, but you can’t help how you feel.” I almost said “who you love,” but neither of us had said that yet. It was another thing I was saving. “What are you doing the rest of the day?”
“Reading to your mother,” she said, “Dean Koontz’s new book came out today.”
“I am so damned lucky.”
She winked at me and said, “And don’t you forget it, big
“Has your dad been home this week?”
I shrugged. “He’s been there as much as he ever is lately, but he’s worthless to my mother. Sometimes when Mom is sick at night from the chemo and I go in to help her up to the bathroom, he’s laying right next to her, but he’s passed out from being stinking drunk and he doesn’t even hear her calling out for help. I locked her meds up, too.”
“Why?” Ariana asked, alarmed. “Was there a problem with the nurses?” Mom had hired two nurses that rotated shifts when I was at school or wanted to go out. We’d also brought in a hospital bed and shower chair and other equipment to keep her comfortable. She had a port in her chest where they gave her all of her injectable medications. I was her primary caregiver when the nurses weren’t there in the evenings and on the weekends. I’d learned a lot about cancer and medications…a lot more than I ever wanted to know.
“No, the nurses are great. It’s my father. She asked him to give her a pain pill the other night when the nurse left early and it was a couple hours before I came home. I got there and found her in excruciating pain. Her head hurt so badly she said she couldn’t even see straight. That was strange because the pills usually at least take the edge off. I’d just picked up her prescriptions that morning and the old pain pills had one left. When I opened the cabinet, there was still one pill in that bottle so I counted the new bottle. Those hadn’t been touched either. There was a bottle of Ibuprofen in there, too. That one was missing a pill. When I confronted him, he said that he hated how the morphine makes her “out of it.” We got into a fight about her being “out of it” versus being in pain to the point of not being able to tolerate it any longer. He had probably already drunk half a liter of bourbon. I don’t think he processed any of it. I don’t want him giving her meds to her while he’s drunk. Who knows what he might hand her?”
I didn’t tell Ariana that it nearly turned into a fistfight. Something about Mom being sick, or maybe it was just me being sick of it, had caused me to find the strength to tell him no more. I wasn’t going to stand by and let him smack me around any longer and if I had to use my own physical strength to prevent it, I would.
“Wow, that’s probably a really good call on your part.” Ariana reached across the table and took my hand in hers. “I wish I could do more for you.”
“Are you kidding? What other girlfriend would come over just to read to my mother or change her sheets after she vomits? Who else would encourage her to drink more water by cutting up fresh fruit and putting it at the bottom of the glass? You’re amazing, and I thank God every day for you. I don’t know if I could get through any of this without you.”
Ariana squeezed my hand. “You’ll never have to know,” she said. “And on that note, I told my mother I was having Thanksgiving at your house. I really might have to bring Brandon though because neither of my parents are speaking to him for defending you.”
I smiled. “The more the merrier,” I said. I hated that they gave her a hard time about me, but I loved that she wasn’t willing to stop seeing me because of it. “Do me a favor though?”
She looked up at me with those gorgeous eyes. I really wasn’t sure sometimes that I could wait for her birthday to make love to her. It was killing me. “What’s that?”
“Promise me you won’t feel guilty. You’re a good daughter, but you can’t help how you feel.” I almost said “who you love,” but neither of us had said that yet. It was another thing I was saving. “What are you doing the rest of the day?”
“Reading to your mother,” she said, “Dean Koontz’s new book came out today.”
“I am so damned lucky.”
She winked at me and said, “And don’t you forget it, big
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