Say You'll Remember Me(94)

“Minnesota was fine,” I lied.

“When’s he coming to see you?”

“He’s not. At least not for a while.”

Now he had hospital bills to pay.

The bad news and bad luck just kept coming. I didn’t even bother to get up from the hits anymore, I just lay down and let them pelt me.

She looked at me with pity. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

There was a second knock at the door. I got up to get it. This time it was Dad. I knew this because I asked him to come five minutes after the time I gave Jeneva. “Hey,” I said, letting him in.

He saw my sister and stopped in the doorway. “Oh, hello.”

She blinked at him. “Hi. Where’s Mom?”

“In the living room with the boys,” he said.

“Wine?” I asked.

Dad didn’t move from the door like he wasn’t sure if he should come in. “Sure. Is this a family meeting?”

“It is,” I said, handing him my glass. “Close the door and find a spot. Tristan will be here in a second.”

Jeneva eyed me. “Uh, he will?”

“He will,” I said.

I watched her stiffen. “Why didn’t you tell us you wanted to have a meeting?” she asked.

“Because I needed to make sure everyone came.”

“What is this about?” Dad asked.

I sat on the end of the bed and was thinking about what I was going to say to keep them from leaving the room, but I didn’t have to because Tristan showed up. He didn’t knock, as usual. My door flung open and he stood dramatically in the frame while he registered that everyone was here. Once he’d taken it all in, he crossed his arms. “Is this why Mom is watching anime with the two crotch goblins?”

“Oh God,” Jeneva said, getting up. “He’s already starting. I’m sorry, I can’t—”

“Sit. Please,” I said. Dad and Tristan were still standing. “You too.”

They looked at each other like they were contemplating leaving, but in the end curiosity must have won out. They sat.

I don’t think they would have shown up if it hadn’t been for the intervention-style way I’d chosen to do this, but I didn’t really have any choice. We didn’t share meals anymore, half the people in this house weren’t even speaking and honestly, I was beyond caring if they liked how I’d done this. It needed to be done.

“I called you all here today to tell you I got a job offer,” I said.

Jeneva pulled her face back. “Oh. Well, that’s good news, right?”

“It is.” I nodded. “It’s with Frito-Lay. It’s remote. It pays more than Murkle’s and the benefits are better. They’re going to let me make Frito dog paw jokes.”

“Congratulations,” Dad said.

“Thank you. If I take this job, I think we should put Mom in the memory care facility.”

The room instantly hushed.

“Right now I’m doing the bulk of her care,” I said. “We’d need to hire full-time help during the day. Dad says Mom’s still not sleeping at night and we’d need to hire full-time help for then too. I looked into it. Dad was right, it’s less expensive to put her in a home than it is to try and keep her here.”

Jeneva sat up. “But—”

“No,” I said, cutting her off. “Because whatever you’re about to say is going to be based on us, her care team, cooperating. And this family hasn’t been a team in a while.”

All three of them averted their eyes.

I looked at each of them. “Can I ask you all something? What do you want for Mom? In an ideal world, if money and time weren’t an obstacle, what would you want?”

Dad was staring at the floor.

“I’d want her to stay home with us,” Jeneva said quietly.

It was a long moment before Tristan replied. “Stay home,” he said.

Dad was nodding at the carpet. “Home.”

I nodded. “Okay,” I said. “So we all want the same thing. We’re capable of having what we want—if we work together. But none of you will pull your heads out of your asses long enough to get it done.”

I looked at my brother. “You know what sucks? You go to bed every night at two or three o’clock in the morning. Not once have you offered to be the one to stay up with Mom so Dad can sleep.”

He pressed his lips into a line. “Why would I—”

“Zip it,” I said. “I mean it. I love you. I appreciate you. I’m beyond thankful for the ticket to see Xavier. You can be incredibly generous and perceptive when you want to be, but this thing with Dad is not it. As someone who’s been taking care of Mom full-time for the last three months, the burnout is real. The isolation is real.” I looked him in the eye. “I understand Dad now so much more than I did that night after the funeral,” I said. “Loneliness in a relationship is the deepest loneliness of all. Dad shouldn’t have had to sneak out, he should have been able to come to us and say, ‘Hey, I need a life. I need a break. I’m a human being and I need human interaction, physical touch’—no matter what that looks like for him. Before it got to the point where he was so done, the nursing home was starting to look like the best option.”