12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Cora
The day drags. All I can think about is getting home and seeing Kaison later on. I appreciate that he’s going to fix my washer, and though that’s exciting because it’s been forever since I did laundry at home, I’m happier about seeing him. I haven’t found myself this happy over something in a long, long time.
Though the shift is dragging and I’m running out of patience, internally grumpy as heck, I can’t wipe the smile from my face.
We had such a nice night together last night. It was such a normal night, and I crave more of that. Someone to talk to, to cuddle with, to watch a movie with. I know we said we were doing the friend thing, but… seems we’re taking a different direction. I don’t hate it. It’s easy, it isn’t forced. It all feels right.
As stressful as things are with my father, I still can’t imagine him going to live in a home. Especially since the closest one is an hour away. But the normalcy of last night… Of a date with a hot man who couldn’t keep his hands off me? I need more of that. The reality is I don’t know how much more of that I’ll get. Dad sleeping through the night isn’t a common occurrence. It happens maybe three nights out of seven. But knowing that if Dad did wake up, Kaison would help me with him, made that burden less. Like I’m finally not in this alone. Yes, I’ve had the nurses helping me, but they do that because they’re paid to. It’s different. Kaison is doing this because he wants to. I’m not even sure I would do this for that reason. I do this because he’s my father and I love him. But dealing with this for any other reason? Well, I don’t think I’m that good a person. I struggle being nice to customers at the diner sometimes.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” I ask the twins.
“How about some tea on that man of yours?”
I huff out a laugh. “There isn’t much tea to spill .”
How these women, who are old enough to be my grandmothers, have more information on the latest slang is unknown to me. They teach me at least one new word a week.
“You mean you haven’t jumped his bones yet?” Betsy asks with a knowing smile.
My jaw drops, but I shake my head. “No, I haven’t, thank you very much.”
“Well, all right then,” she says, raising her chin. “Just the check, I suppose.”
She looks at her sister and shakes her head, her face full of disappointment. Do they discuss my sex life? That’s weird. I don’t even discuss my sex life. Or lack thereof, I guess. I hand them the check and laugh as I walk to my next table to see if they need anything.
When I go on my break, I ask Christian to make me an egg sandwich. He does it up just the way I like, with a folded scrambled egg instead of a fried one. I take it out back and sit at the old picnic table while I eat, staring at my phone.
Kaison and I don’t do the texting and calling thing, not really. I consider texting him now, wanting to tell him I miss him, but maybe that’s too much for him. Maybe he’s busy. What if he’s in the middle of something dangerous and his phone going off distracts him? Could that happen? How dangerous is his job? Is it even a job? Does he get paid for it? How does that work? Where does the money come from?
He’s told me a little about the MC, but I’m not sure I understand the whole thing. I know it’s a club; I know they make money for doing certain things. I’ve heard stories of what they’ve done for the town over the years. Dad was a big fan when I was younger, but I guess my brain didn’t retain any of that information. Probably because I’m too busy thinking about angioplasties and heart attacks. Speaking of, I need to talk to Irene about that and get her opinion on it. There are three nurses who rotate working with Dad. Not that he remembers any of them, but of course I do. Irene is the one who works with him the most, and the one I’m closest with. The other two are great, but Irene and I click better. I trust her opinion on things because even when I don’t want to hear what she has to say, she says it. I appreciate people’s honesty .
I pick up my phone and call my house.
“Davies’ residence,” Irene answers on the third ring.
“Hey, it’s me. How’s Dad?”
“He’s okay. Watching the Price is Right.”
I smile. “He’s always loved that show,” I say more to myself than to her. “I was just calling to talk to you about something, if you have a minute.”
“Of course I have a minute, honey. I’m here all day,” she says with a laugh.
I get into explaining everything the doctor said a few days ago. I try to repeat everything he said, not sure I pronounced words right, but whatever. When I’m done, I remember she’s more familiar with all of this than me and I didn’t have to explain it like she’s five.
“It’s a common procedure. I’ve worked with many people who’ve had it done,” is her response.
“So, you think I should have him do it?”
She’s quiet for a moment, and then says, “If this were my father, I’d do it. It’s possible he’s having pain and can’t express it. If he were to have a heart attack, we may not know because his symptoms could present as agitation. Not that this would prevent that entirely, but it would help.”
“I’m just worried about him going through surgery.”
“Surgery is never fun for anyone. There are always risks, but in this situation, I think this procedure is worth it. The doctors know what they’re doing, and they’ll monitor him appropriately. ”
I sigh a breath of relief, staring down at the other half of my sandwich.
“Thanks, Irene. I’ll see you later.”
I finish eating the rest of my food before I call Dr. Anderson’s office to tell the receptionist that I’ve decided I want my father to have the procedure. I’d already been leaning toward doing it after what the doctor said, but with Irene agreeing, I know it’s the right thing to do. I don’t want my father in pain, and I don’t want him suffering. What if his agitation is being caused by pain we don’t know about? Maybe having the procedure will make him feel better. Or maybe this is all wishful thinking and nothing with him will change—ever.
My feet are killing me by the time I get home. I need to make time to get new shoes. Maybe I’ll get that done this Sunday now that I won’t have to travel to and from the laundromat. That frees up roughly three hours for me. Not only this week, but for the foreseeable future. Had I taken the time to look at the washer myself, maybe I would have figured this out sooner. Seems like a simple enough fix. Too bad I still have a full sheet of paper of things to fix around the house.
“Do I have enough time to shower?” I ask Irene.
“Is that man of yours coming over?” she asks with a raised brow .
“Maybe,” I say with a grin.
She laughs. “Hurry up and get your butt in the shower, girl.”
I gather everything I need for my shower, picking out another sundress to wear when I get out. Maybe a little weird since it’s later in the day, but I don’t want him to think I don’t care what he thinks of me. I could lounge around in pajamas, but I like how he looked at me in the dress yesterday. Kind of wish he would have used it to his advantage while we were kissing in the kitchen, but I appreciate him being respectful. If my father were in his right mind, he’d appreciate it too.
I wash my hair and scrub my body, exfoliate and shave—something I rarely do because I don’t have the time or the need. But things got a little hot and heavy yesterday, and I wouldn’t be opposed to them getting hotter and heavier tonight. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone, and I have no qualms about having sex with Kaison. Not a single one.
Truly, I thought things would move a lot slower with us. I meant what I said when I told him I wanted to do the friend thing, but that didn’t last very long. How am I just supposed to be friends with a man like him?
When I’m out of the shower, it’s nearly nine, meaning he’s going to be here soon. I quickly get dressed and towel-dry my hair. I brush my teeth and put on some moisturizer. Irene is gathering her things when I get out of the bathroom.
“He had a bit of a rough time before bed, but he’s been settled about an hour now. Hopefully he’ll stay that way.”
“Thank you, Irene. ”
I follow her to the front door and wave when she gets into her car. I stand there a moment after she leaves, wondering if I’ll hear the rumble of Kaison’s bike since he should be here any minute. Not wanting to look desperate or like a creep, I close the door and sit on the couch. It would be weird if he showed up, and I was standing in the door waiting for him. When nine comes and goes, I figure he must have gotten caught up with something, so I head into the kitchen to make us a snack. It’s getting to the end of the week, so I don’t have much left, but there is some fruit and cheese that I put on a platter and grab some crackers to go with it. I bring it to the living room and put it on the coffee table. I pick at some grapes while I search for something to watch.
The movie we watched last night was good. Kept me interested. I missed some parts because of us talking, but that’s okay. I liked learning about him and would rather do that than watch any movie.
He told me he wasn’t picky with movies because he hardly watches them, so when he gets the chance to, he enjoys them no matter what they are. I settle on Ocean’s Eleven because I haven’t seen it in years and don’t remember a thing, but I do know it should keep our attention. Though, I’m not sure that’s what I want tonight. I’d much rather take him into my bedroom and lock the door.
I stare at the monitor, at my father’s sleeping body, and a wave of guilt hits me. There have been many times I’ve wondered if this is what it’s like being a parent. Second-guessing everything you do. Guilt hitting you at the most random times for no reason at all.
How do I know I’m doing the right thing? What if this procedure goes wrong and something happens to him? That’ll be on me. What if keeping him here is dangerous? What if he is better off in a home and the only reason I want him here is to keep my guilt at bay? It’s bad enough now, putting him in a home will only make it worse. How will I live with myself? But if it’s for his own good, is there a reason to feel guilty for that?
Dad didn’t put me in a home. He didn’t give me up. Even when I was getting into trouble at school every day for no reason other than I was trying to be a brat. I’m not sure why I acted that way when I was a kid. Maybe because everyone else in school had both their parents, while I only had my dad. He made up for it, though. He sure acted like both parents—he was always enough. But when I was a kid, I didn’t understand that. It was more about the image than anything else, especially because half the kids called him my grandpa. It made me angry. I never told him that, though.
Once we moved, things got better. As I grew up, I grew out of it. He was still there, still as forgiving and patient as ever. Because no matter what I did, he was always patient and understanding. I owe him the same respect. I do think this procedure is the right thing to do but sending him to a home is wrong. I can’t do that to him. I won’t. It’s bad enough he already has a limit on his life because of the Dementia. Maybe he has seven years left. Maybe he has three. Add in this heart thing and it’s probably less. Sending my father away is not the right thing to do, not at all. He deserves to spend his last days in the house he grew up even if he doesn’t realize it’s where he is. Some part of him must feel comfort here, right?
When I glance at the clock, it’s past 9:30. Where is Kaison? Should I call him? Did he forget? Fall asleep? I don’t know enough about him to guess what he could be up to.
I click out of the movie to find something else to watch while I wait. I’m sure he’ll show up. He probably just got caught up in something.
Scrolling through the live TV options, I don’t see a single thing that catches my attention. It’s a bunch of infomercials and shows I have no interest in. I settle on the news because maybe I should keep up with what’s going on around here for once. It’ll give me something to talk to the customers about, since most of them chat about stuff going on and I never know what they’re talking about. I click the channel, then drop the remote to the couch as I get up to get some water. I stop abruptly in the doorway when something from the TV catches my attention.
“—members of two rival motorcycle clubs tore apart a bar just over an hour ago.” I whirl around to stare at the female news anchors on the TV as they continue to cover the story.
“We don’t have information on what started this brawl, but Angel’s is known by many as a popular biker bar mostly frequented by the Iron Runners. It’s no secret to many that they’re rivals of the Merciless Few Motorcycle club, which begs the question: Why were the MFMC there at all? ”
A pit forms in my stomach, and I make my way to the couch to sit down. There’re a hundred things running through my mind right now. Mostly worry. But disappointment is lingering too.
Is this all too good to be true?
“The fight broke out around eight pm tonight, and it took officials nearly half an hour to break it up. Some of the men have been taken to the hospital to be treated for non-life-threatening injuries while a few others are in custody. The MCs and the officials tend to keep to themselves, handling business on their own, but when something of this magnitude comes about, officials say they can’t turn a blind eye. Here is Shelly McFray with more on the story.”
The anchor woman stares into the camera before it pans to another woman who is outside a bar I’ve never seen before. According to the information on the bottom of the screen, it’s a couple towns over.
“Thank you, Sandra. I’m here at Angel’s bar in Hunt Creek, where a terrible bar fight broke out earlier this evening—”
I shut the TV off and lean back on the couch, my stomach full of knots. I have no right to be mad at Kaison for this—this is his job. But I am angry. He couldn’t have called? He just left me here waiting? I don’t like relying on people for things, which is why I never do. I shouldn’t have told him it was okay to fix my washer, because now here we are. Or, here I am, I guess. Alone. Sitting here like a sap, waiting for him to show up, when he has no intention of doing so. Or even letting me know that he won’t.
This event that happened at the bar? It was planned. He knew before it happened. Hell, he had to drive all the way there. At no point could he have sent a text?
Maybe I’m expecting too much. After all, wasn’t I the one who told him he couldn’t have expectations?
We hardly know each other. We have separate lives. But if something happened with Dad and I had to cancel on him, I’d at least tell him. Don’t I deserve the same courtesy? I only want respect. Is that too much to ask for?
I guess this is why it’s been so long since I’ve dated anyone. The disappointment is not worth the excitement.