12 The Old Man
Beau
I was skeptical about this grand plan on the first evening Dash had come home from the hospital. Actually, I was sorely outnumbered in my rejection which didn’t technically mean anything to me, but with the way everyone rallied behind Dash, and he enjoyed being with friends and family at home, I let it ride.
Our living room was bursting at the seams with Scott, Lauren and all their brigade, Mom, Carter, Kailey, and my own clan including the dogs, minus West asleep upstairs, all crammed inside the nice-sized space like sardines. I shook the third round of Jiffy Pop popcorn over a stove burner as the microwave warmed another cup of Amelia’s chicken and rice soup for Dash.
Minced chicken pieces, brown rice, and finely-chopped assorted fresh vegetables. A nutritionally packed soup, designed to give Dash energy. Amelia had done her homework on Dash’s dietary needs. She used the same care with Dash as she used with the children. This was his third bowl.
“Paw, hurry. We wanna start the movie,” Ava said from her spot on the floor where the L-shaped sofa came together. Dash was stretched out there, covered with a thick blanket. Neither Amelia nor the kids wanted to leave his side, and honestly, I felt the same way.
“What else do we need? Juice boxes, beer?” I asked, distributing the popcorn to the group.
Scott raised his can and nodded.
“Paw, Daddy looks old like Pop-Pop,” Mia said. “But Gigi said we shouldn’t tell him.”
“Hey,” Carter, the pop-pop Mia mentioned, said, faux hurt in his tone.
“Pop-Pop.” Mia jumped up and launched herself at him, believing she’d hurt his feelings, giving Carter a tight hug. “You’re not old. You just look old with the wrinkles on your forehead and the gray in your hair,” she explained right in his face.
“Mia,” I said, not at all sure what to say to make this right.
Scott burst out with a hearty laugh. Dash gave a low-level chuckle too.
“Mia, I said you shouldn’t say things like that out loud to anyone, including Pop-Pop. Those things make people feel bad,” Mom explained.
Mia’s expression fell instantly, her entire focus shifted back to Carter. “I’m sorry.” Her palms went to his face, caressing all over. “Uncle Scott’s getting gray hair too. He’s not that old either.”
“My feelings aren’t hurt, sweet girl. Don’t worry. I understood what you meant,” Carter said, accepting Mia’s hug.
“Hey, my feelin’s are hurt,” Scott said boisterously. “I’m here for the movie and popcorn, not to get roasted by my goddaughter about bein’ as old as her pop-pop.” His funny outrage helped shift the spotlight off my girl. Carter put her on her feet, and she bolted the four or so steps to Dash, putting her crossed arms on his chest, staring at him.
“Daddy, I’m sorry. I was just telling the truth.”
“Kiss my cheek,” he said, smiling, and she did. “I’ll work on looking younger. I don’t want people to think I’m your paw’s dad.”
“Shoo, Mia, before you make it all worse,” I said, taking the seat beside Dash. Mia happily laughed and carefully dropped down on Duke, her pillow for the evening. My guy’s inner pride kept him from taking too much help, except from me, because I didn’t care how he argued against me. My sole goal was to get him back on his feet.
“I’m ready, start the movie,” I said. Carter was prepared, the lights dimmed and the film began to play. It was a family-friendly show, Playing with Fire , featuring John Cena. The guys appreciated the wrestling reference, probably Ava did too, and the rest enjoyed kid-mania.
My focus shifted to Dash. He did appear older, not only due to his condition, but from the epic battle he fought to be here with us. His weary gaze lifted to mine.
“They’re a mess,” he said wispy and out of breath. The hospital discharged him with an oxygen tank, and despite his grumbling about its annoying presence, I insisted he use it. I was going to win the oxygen battle if I had to duct tape the tubes to his face. “Can you help me lift up?”
“Sure, hang on,” I rose, my feet between the kids, and angled Dash to a better position to eat. “I got you.” The grunts and groans he gave came from the effort to help, ate at my soul. I stuffed the pillows behind his back to keep him upright. His appreciative blue eyes lifted to mine. I leaned in to plant a kiss on his forehead, but he gently shook his head.
“My lips,” he whispered.
“If you keep the oxygen on. I don’t care what the meter reads. Make sure it stays on.”
He nodded in agreement, but I was skeptical. Still, I pressed my lips to his and placed a wad of paper towels under his chin. After retrieving the soup bowl Amelia held, I slowly fed him. I insisted on this responsibility until his care team arrived tomorrow. Two-thirds of the way through the bowl, Dash gave out. His eyes drooped. His head lulled to the side. I cleaned his mouth and moved the tank closer to him, tucking a blanket around him to better allow sleep.
I completely missed the movie’s plot, had no idea what was going on. Anything with Dash took time, the timeliest was probably feeding him. The popcorn and drinks looked appealing. I reached between the girls for a handful of popcorn. I didn’t get a chorus of heys which meant they were engrossed in the movie.
Minutes later, Livie’s gaze never left the screen while she climbed into my lap. They’d been sticking nearby all day. Shortly after, the other two joined her, sitting between me and Dash, popcorn and juice boxes in hand. Their new pink sequined dress shoes—a purchase my mom made for them and Scott’s youngest daughters—hitting all the wrong places.
“Be careful of your dad. Maybe y’all should sit back on the floor.”
“No, let ’em stay. I missed them,” Dash murmured. Mia was the closest to him and laid her head on Dash’s arm. They were like little rays of sunshine, beaming joy most of the time.
Thankfully, we were all back home together. I might not ever let any of us leave again.
Two hours later, with Carter’s assistance, we walked Dash to our bed and tucked him in tightly. I went back to the living room to find Scott standing by the front door. My mom and Amelia were past him inside the kitchen, tidying surfaces that were already clean. Scott gestured for me to join him on the front porch, meaning he wanted to talk and I needed to listen. We were business partners. I hadn’t kept up my end of things, but dang it, I was tired and emotionally stretched thin. Tomorrow morning was only ten hours away.
He opened the door and stepped outside, leaving it ajar for me. I couldn’t read his expression, not that I tried. “What’s goin’ on?” I asked.
Scott had already reached the north side of the wraparound porch, the bright moonlight illuminating him. He stuck his fingers into his front pockets, no doubt to ward off the chill in the air. His attention was focused in the direction of the dock we couldn’t see from there.
“I don’t know that I’ve ever told you what a good parent I think you are,” Scott said distractedly. “You took to it like a natural. It’s impressive. I didn’t have your ability. Lauren bore the brunt of it all until she taught me how. I should’ve helped her more in the beginning.”
“You’re a good father. Y’all love each other. You’ve done right by them from the beginnin’,” I said, walking toward him. I leaned my ass against the railing, and crossed my arms to ward off the chill. I should’ve grabbed a jacket. “I have a confession about parenthood that I haven’t shared with anyone, even Dash. I believe a nurturin’ mother’s role in successful parentin’. Dash plowed through the process, and our surrogate got pregnant so fast. That’s when I really began watchin’ Lauren a lot, Amelia too. The way they handle children doesn’t come natural to me. I read books and books about raisin’ children. I took so many online parentin’ classes secretly. Dash reaches that special nurturin’ way better than I do. We had a pretty big argument before I left about how strict I am with them and him. I’m too rigid. Maybe if I wasn’t bein’ me, I’d have noticed the sniffle was more than just allergies.”
Scott turned to face me in a rare serious moment. “Couples argue. It’s part of havin’ a relationship. Life’s tough. It’s not about a single moment. But if it was, how could you have changed what happened? They don’t know what made him sick.” He angled his position to stand in front of me. “Nothin’ would have changed except that maybe you’d have gotten sick too. Where would your family be then? Maybe the universe was in play by gettin’ you away.”
I let those words roll around in my head, my chin lowered hitting my chest. “I don’t know what a good parent I am. If Dash died, I wanted to too.” Extreme fatigue set in hard at my confession, slumping my shoulders. I loved my children. How had I ever let my thoughts slip to such a selfish place?
“You know how I feel about Lauren. I get it. And it’s not exactly your choice to die when Dash does, but I get the sentiment.” He mirrored my posture, crossing his arms over his chest. “So about work. I wanted to tell you that my old man came to help. We’ve had a crazy amount of last-minute charters for some reason. We’re booked solid every day. I didn’t want to bother you, but he’s helped me keep it goin’. I adjusted the pricin’ once we were full. I’ve been puttin’ money in your account. Dad’s gettin’ paid five dollars an hour. But now he wants to invest in us. He wants to buy a Nautic Star to help get us to the next level. My parents wanna move here and help us. All of us.”
“Okay,” I said and paused. That was a crazy expensive boat designed for deeper sea fishing. We’d be able to charge double or triple our pricing for a standard charter. “Does your dad want to operate a boat? It’s gonna be a minute before I’m back. Maybe if I get Dash set…”
“That’s not what I’m suggestin’. We got this handled for however long you need to be gone. He wanted to invest in us and help fill in for you. He appreciates what you’ve done for us and wants to give back. Maybe we can all sit down in January and work it out.”
I nodded. I didn’t have a grip on my family’s financial situation. Dash took care of it all.
“Forget I mentioned it,” Scott said and slapped my arm. “I’m headin’ home. We’ll talk later.”
“No, actually the idea’s pretty damned intriguin’. We gotta talk to your dad. What does he want for the boat, stuff like that? January’s better for me to have that discussion. I feel like I’m twisted up in my family’s finances. Dash isn’t workin’, and I don’t know what that means for us. Maybe I need to pick up shifts at UPS or open some overnight charters. We could charge a lot more for those.” My worried gaze riveted on Scott. “Dash takes care of our finances. I’m not sure what we have.”
“I still have funds available if you need it,” Scott offered. “You put all that money in college funds for my kids. Take it back, or we can borrow against it. It’s my responsibility to put ’em through college, not yours.”
I stared at him, the best friend a guy could have. I wanted to cry again. “I’m not takin’ the kids college funds. It was right to secure all of our children’s future, but who knew we’d have so many kids?” And I built this house too big. Dash made many expensive changes. What did we have saved for a rainy day?
“Let me figure out what’s happenin’ with us, and let’s reconvene,” I finally said, shaking my head free of the crazy, escalating, wild thoughts.
Scott nodded his agreement.
“I think buyin’ another boat’s the right thing to do,” I added. “What does he want for it, again?”
“He doesn’t want anything except to be here with his grandchildren and to fish. He’s proud of us, and my mom won’t be on his back about fishin’ so much if he’s helpin’ us.”
The chuckle I gave was genuine, because I knew all the players involved, and Scott was telling the absolute truth. His parents also treated my kids like they were their own. I pushed off the rail and scratched my hairline, knocking back the ball cap I hadn’t realized I was still wearing.
Scott snapped his fingers and pointed at me, locking my attention on him. “We’ll make him a silent investor that only gets paid if we can pull this all off.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
Scott was already trotting down the front steps. He lifted a hand, jogging toward his house. I went inside. The kitchen lights were off, the house silent. It was barely eight thirty. The girls had to be in the bath. Instead of going to my bedroom, where I really wanted to be, I took the stairs up to help with the children’s nighttime chore duties. Amelia had carried this load for weeks. She deserved a night off.