“High priority.”
“Will do.” Not.
“Okay. Carry on.” He strode off toward the lobby.
I stared at my terminal. Technically, I had ten more minutes left to work. In reality, my brain was fried. I went back and added a maintenance ticket for Patricia’s overhead light. Probably the ballast, which meant it would go on a long list of lights to replace. I made myself an extra note to go check on it personally. If the buzz was really bad, I’d kick hers up the list. Entitled or not, she didn’t deserve to be driven crazy by a fluorescent.
My work list popped up another reminder. A previous worker needed a letter of reference. I’d write her a good one and send her a copy. She deserved it, and if the next place was maybe giving her fifty cents more per hour and turned out to be a crappy employer, a bit of recognition might send her back our way. Composing and emailing used up the rest of my time. I clocked out right on the hour and closed up my office.
I got some curious looks as I headed out. Probably was a bad sign when my coworkers were so used to me being there into the evening they did double-takes. Dinner service was just getting underway, though, so no one had the time to ask questions.
When I got home, Willow greeted me at the door, winding around my ankles and meowing. I dodged around her, hands held up. “Sorry, baby, shower first. Cats can get COVID and flu, you know. Better safe than sorry.” She followed me tothe bathroom, complaining about being starved and unfairly neglected. “Right. Like Mom doesn’t spoil you.” I closed the door on her offended face.
Once I was clean and changed, scrubs in the laundry, I made my way to the kitchen. Willow hadn’t been lying in wait at the bathroom door, so I wasn’t surprised to find Mom in the kitchen, sipping tea with the cat in her lap. Willow jumped down and came to me. I scooped her up, burying my face in her soft multicolored fur.
“Oof, baby.” I kissed her head. “You’re gaining weight. What has Mom been feeding you?”
“Just a few treats. She deserves it.”
Well, I could hardly throw stones. I rubbed Willow’s ears. “Who’s a good, precious kittycat, hm?”
She wiggled to get free, then trotted back to Mom and leaped onto her knees.
“She is precious,” Mom said. “A gift, truly.”
I checked out Mom’s face as she stared down at the cat. She’d only been taking the antidepressant med for two weeks but I thought I saw fewer stress lines on her forehead.
She raised her head and caught me staring. I whirled away and busied myself making a cup of coffee. I’d need the caffeine tonight, tired as I felt already.
“You’re home early,” Mom noted. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I guess.” I tapped the gauge on the kettle as if that would make it boil faster.
“You guess. Lee, I’m your mother. I’ve known you for forty years and although I haven’t always paid attention, I know what you look like when you’re worried. What’s up?”
I shrugged, still not turning. “Nothing big. Minor health issue. I’m being paranoid.”
“How many of Alice’s minor health issues became major? Sometimes paranoia is rational. You want to tell me about it? I am still a nurse, you know, retired or not.”
“It’s not me. HIPPA,” I evaded. Pouring the water over the coffee grounds was meditative and the scent of the fresh beans filled my nose in a comforting way.Aaah. Black gold.I was willing to drink almost any coffee, after years of mainlining whatever was available, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate the good stuff.
When I turned, raising the mug to my lips, Mom sat eyeing me, one hand stroking the closed-eyed cat. “Don’t burn your mouth,” she warned, then smiled ruefully. “Once a mom, always a mom.”
“I like that about you.” I sipped with appropriate care. “Hey, when Alice first got sick, when we still thought it was nothing much, did you ever, like, really worry? All out of proportion to what it seemed like?”
“Of course I did. My baby? I worried about both of you. Like, when you were little, you spit up all the time. And I know babies do that and your weight was fine. I still took you in, and I was irrational enough to bring a baggie of spit-up as evidence. The pediatric nurse looked at me like I was a fool. But when you love someone, you worry. Part of the package deal.” She hesitated. “Is Griffin sick?”
“I don’t love him.” The wrong words popped out.
“But you could?”
“I… yeah. I could, so easily. But I was halfway there last time and looked what happened.”
She nodded, her eyes kind. “You said he promised to stick around this time.”
“Sometimes you can’t promise. Alice would’ve promised to stay, if it was up to her. Dad promised and broke it.”
“Griffin’s nothing like your dad, from what I’ve seen,” Mom said.
