“Watch your mouth,” she’d sniped. Then she hadn’t talked to him for the rest of the ride. It should’ve been a relief, but it wasn’t. It was more like sitting in the same room as a time bomb. He was waiting for the explosion.
Now, in the cordoned-off dining room of the restaurant, sitting at one of the four-tops sprinkled around the room, he felt the tension rising. He doubted his mother would make a scene in front of the rest of the family, simply because it would humiliate her and add even more gossip and questions. But he knew she was probably ready to chew nails at this point, and he wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold herself back.
To make matters worse, she’d insisted that they sit at the same table with Davy and Sheryl, the four of them uncomfortably close. He had Davy and his mother on either side of him, which meant Sheryl was sitting across from him, deliberately avoiding making eye contact. She ate the chicken with grim determination.
“I thought you were bringing a date to the wedding?” Davy said, with all the grace of a Sherman tank.
Aiden squirmed slightly, taking in his mother’s venomous look. Sheryl shot a matching one a beat later, finally looking at him.
“He didn’t ask anyone,” his mother said in a low voice, each word sharp as a scalpel. “If you can believe that.”
“Oh, I can,” Sheryl muttered, slicing off another piece of chicken. The chicken piccata was nice and tender, and there really was no reason for her to use quite so much force.
“And I know someone who was interested,” his mother added, glaring at him.
Davy looked startled. “What happened?”
“Long story,” Aiden said. “And it would’ve just been as friends anyway. I’m not interested in her that way.”
“Nice, churchgoing girl,” his mother all but spat under her breath. “Would’ve loved to get remarried, has a grown boy. A decent, community-centered woman!”
“Not your type, I take it?” Sheryl’s voice was almost imperceptible.
He tried not to glower.
“Now, hon,” Davy said, with a note of warning in his voice. She looked away again, so Davy turned his attention back to Aiden. “Well, it can’t be helped now. But if we just all stay calm—and be civil”—this seemed directed at his wife—“we should be able to get through this without any big deal.”
“People are going to talk!” his mother hissed.
Aiden couldn’t help a disgruntled sigh. “They talk anyway. I don’t give a fuck.”
Now, all three of them stared at him.
“What has gotten into you?” his mother said. “You’ve never cussed like this! You’re like a sailor!”
Surprisingly, he felt a smirk affix itself to his face.
No, like a Bogwitch.
He knew better than to say that aloud, though.
“I’m going to the restroom,” his mother said—almost snarled—and then got up.
He saw it first . . . the sudden unease, the way she instinctively grabbed for the table and the back of the chair. The way she swayed. He was on his feet and helping her in an instant.
“Mom?”
“I’m fine,” she said, stubbornly, closing her eyes and taking a few breaths. “I’m fine!”
When her eyes opened again, he studied her. “You got dizzy again,” he said, not asking.
“The wine,” she argued . . . but there was just an edge of uncertainty, of defensive posturing. “And I need to go to the bathroom.”
Aiden looked at Sheryl, who had also gotten to her feet. When their gazes met, she nodded, shooting Davy a quick look before helping their mother. “I need to go too.”
“Don’t baby me, Sheryl,” his mother growled in a low voice, but she still took Sheryl’s arm as they made their way toward the bathrooms. Aiden and Davy watched them as they headed down the hallway.
“She’s gotten worse,” Davy said, and his voice was a mixture of surprise and dismay.
“I’ve been fucking telling you!” Now it was Aiden’s turn to growl.
“Well, how was I supposed to know? She sounded fine when I talked with her!”
“And how long ago was that?” Aiden asked, before rubbing his temples. “Listen, we’ve got to get her to think ahead, okay? She’s managing, but that’s with me grabbing her groceries, cleaning her house, driving her around. Even with all that—she’s still falling, Davy.”
Davy grimaced. “What does her doctor say?”
“She’s not letting me talk to her doctor,” Aiden said. “I don’t have medical authority. Besides, you know what the facilities are like in the Falls. If she needs to see a specialist, it’s a two-hour drive to Spokane, easy. Having her in the car for four hours round trip, every week?”
Davy fell silent, looking troubled.
“She won’t talk with me, Davy,” Aiden said, quietly, urgently. “We’re gonna hit a point where I can’t take care of her on my own. I don’t mean hospice, although that’ll be a thing at some point, I imagine. I mean just day-to-day care.”
“But you’re doing fine now,” Davy protested. “I don’t see why—”
“No, you don’t see,” Aiden said. “She doesn’t like me. She hasn’t liked me in years.”
Davy spluttered. “I thought it was better, since—”
“It isn’t.” Aiden kept going, implacable. “Dad barely came around before he died. In fact, I think that’s part of why Mom’s still so pissed. She relies on me, and hates it. Dad didn’t get me to change who I am before he left, and she feels like it’s on her. Leaving her in my care is not doing her any favors, Davy. And it’s only going to get worse.”
“What do you want me to do about it?” Davy shot back, eyes sparking.
“Help me. Talk to her. Get her to think about the legal stuff, the medical stuff.” He swallowed. This was going to be the hard part. “And . . . we’re going to need to think of long-term care.”
Davy paled. “But she loves the Falls, dude.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Aiden felt like his chest was going to implode from the weight. “I don’t want to make those kinds of decisions. But—the doctors. The drive. The in-home care. The Falls is not equipped for what she’s gonna need, probably sooner than we realize. I’ve seen it happen, too many times.”
Davy was subdued, silent. He looked like a guy who’d been cornered in an alley, trying desperately to think of how to escape.
Eventually, Sheryl and his mother came back to the table. His mother sat down with a sigh, then looked her sons over. “All right, what’s going on?”
“Mom,” Davy said quietly. “Aiden was telling me—”
“I’m going to stop you right there.” For as frail as she looked, their mother sounded like a drill sergeant. “If this is about all that lawyer stuff and medical stuff, and how I apparently can’t take care of myself—”
“Mom,” Aiden tried to interrupt, but it was too late. Here was the explosion. He glanced around, but fortunately, most of the other guests were already pretty wasted, and few were paying any attention to the drama that was quietly unfolding at their table.