“Lee? Are you all right in there?” Mom’s voice came through the bathroom door.
I didn’t think I’d spaced out all that long, but I called, “Out in a minute,” and ducked under the spray.
When I’d pulled on sweats and tossed the dirty scrubs in my room, Mom gave me a tentative smile. “Did you have a good day?”
“Good” was not the adjective I’d have used, but I nodded. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Well. Uh. I don’t think I should go to my class reunion tomorrow.” She twisted the fabric of her skirt between her fingers.
I held back a sigh. “Why not, Mom? Don’t worry about the buses. I’ll drop you off and pick you up after.” I knew that wasn’t the issue, but I was low on spoons to deal with Mom’s anxiety.
“Well, I haven’t worked as a nurse in a dozen years. When they all talk about their jobs, I won’t have a thing to add.”
“First off, most of your class is in their sixties. Good bet you won’t be the only one not actively practicing nursing anymore.” The job tended to fuck up your back and feet, and heart. “And you were working when you took care of Alice at home, even if you weren’t making money. It hasn’t been that long since you placed an IV catheter or checked a blood glucose.” Even the last two years when Alice was at Wellhaven, Mom had been there every day. Six years wasn’t that long. Felt like just yesterday.
“I don’t know. It seems like a lot of effort, and probably most of them won’t remember me.”
I kept my voice low and warm. “You said Kara was going, and Andrea. But if you don’t feel up to it, you don’t have to.Except, Mom? If you can’t get out of the house to this, then you have to let me prescribe anxiety meds for you and promise to take them. Escitalopram for a month, maybe six weeks to try it out. Because you can’t stay in this house and hide forever, and pretend everything’s okay.”
Mom’s eyes filled with tears. “That’s like blackmail.”
Fuck.But I’d backed down too many times in the last few years. I ran a hand over my head. My hair was getting long. Needed to take time to get a trim. Needed time for too many things. “Yeah, I guess it is. Deal?”
She jerked her chin up. “I might go to the reunion after all. And you can make your own dinner.” Whirling on her heel, she stalked down to her bedroom and slammed the door.
Double fuck.
After Alice died, Mom imploded. No surprise, and it wasn’t just grief. Mom’s existence had revolved around Alice’s health for the last ten years of my sister’s life. Over the subsequent months, Mom slowly got better. Some. And then plateaued. She didn’t go out much, didn’t see the friends who’d mostly fallen by the wayside in those last two rough years. I’d figured she’d improve gradually, but lately I felt like she did less, went out less. Like she was sliding back into the hole.
Kashira said I should get her to therapy and have the therapist prescribe meds. Except catch-22 again. Her anxiety was bad enough she totally refused the idea of speaking to a stranger, which she’d have to do to get the meds she needed to be calm enough to speak to a stranger.
I wasn’t supposed to prescribe for family members but it wasn’t illegal. I’d added the MSN degree to my name for that very reason, prescribing for Alice when her array of docs weretoo busy or too arrogant to get her what she needed. I’d do it for Mom too, if she’d let me. These days, I caught myself fantasizing about slipping her the meds in her morning orange juice. I wouldn’t. She was still sharp, and I would never treat her without her consent. But damn, it was hard to stand back and respect that choice.
Punching the wall would be a fool’s game. I didn’t need the broken hand or the drywall repairs. Instead, I thwacked my forehead on the doorframe a few times till my thoughts quit circling.
Let Mom make her own choice. Make dinner. Eat. Sleep.I was home early for once, and off tomorrow. Eight full hours in bed would be awesome. I kind of wished I had a joint to smoke, to wind down enough to take advantage and actually sleep. It’d been years since I’d smoked, but seeing Griffin brought that wistful desire back.Nights out on the balcony of his apartment, passing a joint back and forth, the musty funk of weed hanging in the still air, my senses slowing, stress floating into the air with the smoke.
I wondered momentarily if he might still have weed around. I hadn’t smoked in two decades. When Alice and Mom depended on me, I couldn’t risk being busted. It was still illegal, and still a terrible idea even if Griffin had any.
Don’t ask him. You’re keeping your distance, remember?Anyhow,I wasn’t sure if my nostalgia was for the memories of the mellow high, or the man I shared it with, and either one was asking for trouble.
Make dinner. Eat. Sleep.I could do that much, and tomorrow would be what it was.
Chapter 5
Griffin
I was getting used to my new normal. Get up at seven, get dressed, eat something. Check my phone for schedule changes. Catch a bus. Arrive at Wellhaven by nine. Wander around the building while doing the assignments Kashira gave me. Hope to catch glimpses of Lee. Mostly fail. Grab a lunch on the go on my way to the afternoon nursing home. Work there, go home, shower, pretend to eat dinner.
Evenings were my salvation. My hands on my guitar at practice fed my soul, and I’d also lined up some small gigs here and there. The first time I called a local music bar, I’d expected… I don’t know. Someone pointing a finger and saying, “We don’t want killers in here.” But the bar owner was delighted, and quickly gave me a performance slot.
So, two weeks after I started community service, I entered the Seven Suns Bar through the rear door as directed. There, I had a moment of déjà vu so strong it knocked me back a step.I played here, many years ago.I’d almost forgotten. Maybe the name was different, but my bones recognized every inch of the place. The narrow corridor, the creaking wooden floor, the front room with its cramped stage and array of wooden tables— almost nothing had changed. Only the haze of cigarette smoke twining around the lights was missing.
Eighteen years old and full of optimism, sure I was going somewhere.Well, I had been, even if not as fast as I’d thought.
The bar owner had agreed to lend me an amp and speakers this time, since I was stuck with riding the bus. I climbed the two steps to the stage and plugged in. A buzz arose from the tables. Looked like standing room only tonight. I heard my name a few times, and a chronic heaviness inside me lightened.
That first night here, all those years ago, no one had known my name. I’d been good, but not as good as I thought I was. Folks talked through my songs. Some got up and left. Normal bar stuff. When I finished, a bit disheartened, an elderly man came up to me. “Don’t quit, kid,” he said. “You got what it takes, a few years down the line. Gonna take fuckin’ work, but you got it.”
