“Ready to head back?”
My question startles Trin, who seems to be deep in thought and simply nods.
She’s still quiet when we get back to the hospital and I help her out of the truck. But when she takes a step toward the entrance and notices I’m not moving; she stops and turns to look back at me.
“You’re not coming in?”
“No. I have a few errands to run.”
It’s not a lie. This is the second of my two days off before the next workweek, when I usually get groceries, do laundry, run errands, and hit the gym. Besides, I figure after my lecture at breakfast she may need a break from me. That wasn’t exactly the casual getting-to-know-each-other meal I’d planned.
Hope I didn’t overstep.
“Okay.”
Her smile and nod are a little stiff.
“If you’re still here on Tuesday, I’ll pop in after I get off shift. I’ll bring you some real coffee.”
A dimple appears when the smile widens on her face.
“Sounds good.”
I mock-salute her and turn to the truck. I’m about to get in when she calls out.
“Bodhi?”
She’s still smiling when I glance over at her.
“Thanks for breakfast.”
Chapter 7
Trin
I had the talk with my sister.
As expected, it wasn’t easy for Vic to hear. Heck, it wasn’t easy for me to share. This was our father we were discussing after all.
I’m not sure if the conversation with Bodhi Sunday morning had bolstered me, but when Vic popped in at the hospital that afternoon, I took her aside and dove right in. There’d been disbelief and shock, and she wasn’t ready to talk about possible solutions, so I didn’t push. Not yet.
“How are you holding up, kiddo?” I ask Tuck sitting in the back seat.
“Fine.”
He’s looking a bit pale. He may have been released from the hospital but he’s still recovering. Although I suspect having been told we’d be discussing the consequences of his stupid stunt once we’re home may have something to do with it as well.
We have a follow-up appointment scheduled for next week but until then he’ll have to stay home, which means I’ll have my hands full.
Vic came to pick us up and has been rather quiet, other than to tell me a couple of the guys—including Bodhi—were asked to help with the recovery of the car wreck Tuck’s foot had gotten caught in. I admit I was a little disappointed I wouldn’t be seeing him. I’ve had some time to ponder what he said to me regarding my son, and I was hoping to thank him for opening my eyes.
Tucker doesn’t really have a role model in his life—no one to mirror himself after at this transitional age—and I was going to ask Bodhi if he had any suggestions. Maybe a Big Brother program or something similar, but I guess I can do some research myself.
Pops is at his program this morning so the house is quiet when we walk in.
“Couch or bed?” I ask Tucker, who is swaying on his feet.
The doctor had warned us he might be fatigued and even lethargic but not to be alarmed. His body went through significant trauma and it would take some time to recover.
“My room.”
“I’ll get him settled in.” Vic takes over, putting a supporting arm around my kid. “You go get cleaned up, you’re getting rank,” she teases with a smirk.
She leads Tuck upstairs while I put on a quick pot of coffee before grabbing a change of clothes from the study and head up after them.
“He’s asleep,” I announce when I get downstairs, clean and refreshed after my shower.
Vic is sitting at the kitchen table, looking pretty wiped herself as she cradles a mug in her hands. I go pour myself a coffee before sitting down across from her.
“You should get some sleep too,” I tell her, concerned with the drawn look on her face.
She hasn’t seen her bed yet after coming home after her shift, tackling Pops and shipping him off, and then rushing to the hospital to pick us up.
“I will, but first we need to talk.”
“Okay.”
Instead of speaking, she pulls back the sleeve of her shirt to show nasty bruising around her wrist.
“What happened?”
Her eyes well up.
“I was trying to help him get dressed but he insisted on wearing his uniform. Said he had an important meeting with the commissioner.” She stares at the bruise. “It’s amazing the strength he still holds in that frail body.”
I cover her wrist with my hand.
“I’m sorry, Vic.”
She pulls her hand back and wipes at her face.
“You know what kills me? I made a promise to him two years ago I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep. He still had some lucid moments then and begged me not to let him end up in a home.”
“I know,” I commiserate, “but the Pops we know would be mortified if he touched a hair on our heads. I don’t think he’d have asked if he could’ve foreseen this. He was always our gentle giant, remember? Our safe haven. I can’t make myself believe he would want this for us or himself.”
She drops her head in her hands.
“So what do we do?”
“We start looking into our options. Find resources that might be helpful. Look at care facilities specializing in the elderly like Pops. Seniors’ homes with dedicated dementia or Alzheimer’s wings. And in the meantime, we get some backup.”
I’ve had some time sitting beside Tuck’s hospital bed to think about this and was waiting for my sister to be ready to hear it.
“Nira offered,” Vic reminds me.
“I know and I thought about that. First of all, I don’t feel comfortable not paying her for her time so we’d have to come up with a fair hourly wage.”
“Agreed.”
“Good. Now I was thinking we’d be okay on the days Pops goes to his program. He’s usually tired when he comes home and naps until Tuck gets back from school. If we had someone the other two weekday mornings to help out, you could sleep when you come from a shift, and I’d have time to write, but there’d always be that extra person in the house.”
This time it’s Vic who reaches across the table and grabs on to my hand.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly.
“For what? No one could’ve foreseen this happening,” I reassure her.
“I know, but maybe if I hadn’t asked you to move here and uproot Tuck, he wouldn’t have—”
“Tuck was struggling before we moved here,” I quickly correct her. “One has nothing to do with the other. Bodhi gave me some insight in to what might be going on with my kiddo.”
I pass on Bodhi’s theory and share my plan to look into some kind of program to find him, but Vic seems to focus on something that has nothing to do with my son.
“He took you for breakfast? Like a date?”
I roll my eyes at my grinning sister.
“It’s not like that, it was just a friendly breakfast.”
“Sure. Keep telling yourself that,” she teases, getting up and carrying her mug to the kitchen.
“Look,” I defend myself. “A date implies an agreement, getting dressed up, and making a good impression. This was spur-of-the-moment, me in the sweats I slept in with my hair in a ratty bun, and I’m pretty sure I still had drool crusties on my face. Ergo, not a date.”