Chapter Twenty
Tyler
My parents wouldn’t win any parenting awards, but they were still human. It pained me to think of my dad falling over the very pile that we’d argued about tossing in the dumpster when Brad had been there. It wasn’t exactly the I-told-you-so moment I’d hoped for, but it was bothersome.
I’d texted Bethany about what happened, and she sent a few sentences asking which hospital.
He was in surgery now, and my mom had barely raised her eyes to look at me when I’d arrived, so I stood at the window that overlooked the city of Seattle and wondered why, no matter what, things didn’t change.
Since my mom didn’t tell me much, I spoke to the nurse, who informed me of the extent of my dad’s injuries.
“Mrs. Grant?” A man dressed in blue scrubs with a white coat entered the waiting room.
I turned around as my mom stood, and the surgeon came over.
“Your husband is in recovery. The surgery went well, but we do need him to move to a rehabilitation facility here in the city.”
“Ridiculous,” my mom muttered, glaring at me.
I shook my head. “The surgeon knows better than we do about Dad’s needs.”
“He’ll be fine in the house,” my mom snapped.
The surgeon eyed me. “I was under the impression the home had some potential fall hazards.”
My mom’s jaw ground together. “Who told you that?”
“It was written in the notes from the medics.”
“I’ve been trying to get things emptied out of their home and repairs made, but it hasn’t been easy.” I ran my fingers through my hair and let out a deep breath. “This was exactly what I was worried about.”
“You worry too much.” My mom scowled.
“Apparently not.”
“I’ll have a social worker come by when Mr. Grant gets into his room. She can discuss options and potential living arrangements.” The surgeon held my gaze, and I nodded. “It’s Marigold Island, right?”
“That’s where my parents have a home. Yes.”
“And that is where we’re going back to.” My mom nearly snarled at the surgeon who’d just worked on her husband.
The surgeon nodded. “I’ll have the social worker meet with you.”
“Thank you so much,” I told him. “I’m really sorry about everything.”
“I’m sure it’s a lot to take in for her,” he assured me, tapping my arm. “The nurse will tell you what room he’ll be in shortly.”
“Thanks.” To say I was embarrassed for the behavior that just happened was putting it mildly. In all my time growing up with my parents, I had never gotten used to it. I almost preferred when they’d take it out on me rather than strangers, but their fury knew no boundaries.
The surgeon walked out of the waiting room, and my mom sat down with a thud.
“Give me a drink, will ya? There’s a vending machine out in the hall.”
“Gladly,” I told her, grateful for the break.
The tension in that room put every cell in my body on edge. It was the very reason Paul and I left the moment we could.
I scanned the machine and found her favorite lemon-lime soda. I got her a bag of potato chips and returned with both.
“I hope you don’t get any crazy ideas, thinking you can rip us from our home.”
Shaking my head, I just let out a sigh. “I haven’t said a word. I didn’t even know that was a thing. I just listened to what the doctor told us both, and I’ll wait to hear what the social worker says. I’m sure whatever they’re thinking is only temporary.”
She scowled.
“I don’t care what any of them say. I’m not leaving.” She ripped open the bag of chips and started crunching. Normally, the sound would have gone right over me, but today, every chomp and slap of the lips grated on me. “And neither is your father.”
I returned to the hallway and grabbed a coffee as the nurse entered the waiting room. I quickly followed her in. She gave us the room number where my dad was located, and we trailed behind her down the hall and into an elevator before finding my dad in a room with the drapes closed.
He looked as grumpy as ever sleeping, but he had a gauze dressing along his scalp, tubes coming out of his hip area, and IVs hooked up to various solutions dangling behind.
I’d imagine it wasn’t anyone’s best look.
My mom didn’t stop to touch him, but she sat in the chair next to the hospital bed. The nurse checked a couple of things while I stood near the window.
“Open the drapes, will ya? It’s like a cave in here,” my mom said, eyeing me.
“Maybe it’s better closed for Dad since he’s sleeping?”
“He’ll be fine.”
The nurse and I traded a glance as I opened the drapes just as another woman arrived. The nurse excused herself as the woman took a few steps into the room.
“Mrs. Grant?” she asked.
“Of course. Who else would be here? His mistress?”
I closed my eyes and counted to three before opening them.
“I’m Nancy Collins, the social worker here.” The woman opened a folder she’d been holding. “We expect your husband to be released in three days if all goes well. After that, the physician noted that he needed to be in a rehabilitation facility for two weeks.”
My mom frowned. “No.”
The woman smiled at me and turned her attention to my mom. “No. What?”
“He’s coming home.”
“Unfortunately, under the circumstances, we can’t allow that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been in contact with APS, and they’ve determined that self-neglect has been occurring.”
My mom’s gaze flashed to me. “Is this your doing? What’s APS?”
I shook my head, as puzzled as my mom. “Why would I do that? I’ve been trying to make your home habitable.”
“APS is short for Adult Protective Services here in the state of Washington. This wasn’t from your son. The medics wrote notes and took pictures. We can’t force you, but if we exhaust all of our efforts and the courts need to intervene, and you’re found incompetent by the courts…”
I cleared my throat as I watched the horror wash over my mom’s expression.
“We don’t have any say over you, but at the moment, APS is stepping in for his safety.” She turned to me. “And you’re their son?”
I nodded, feeling my stomach tighten into a nauseous pit. “Yeah. I’ve been trying hard to improve things for them, but they won’t part with items.”
“I could see that.” She nodded. “It’s not your fault. I always want the children to understand that when we’re dealing with hoarding situations, there are a lot of factors at play.”
“Hoarder?” My mom stood. “I’m not a hoarder.”
“You have trails in your home.”
I was stunned by the bluntness of the social worker and wanted to bow down to her. Instead, I listened as she described a few of the nursing home facilities around Seattle, along with her suggestions for after the rehab.
My mom wouldn’t even make eye contact with the woman as the social worker laid down the folder. “These senior apartments are wonderful. You don’t even have to cook, and there is room available now if you’d like. I know it’s not your home, but it would allow you to be closer to your husband while he’s in the rehab facility, and it would give him a safe and clean environment when he’s out. I highly recommend this route. Getting the courts involved isn’t great for anyone. It’s a good location, near the bus line and market. I’ve already asked them to keep the hold. I just need a deposit.”
I opened my mouth to say something but closed it quickly since no words came out.
My mom let out a deep breath. “If I go home, he won’t be coming with me. You’re threatening me.”
“It’s not a threat, Mrs. Grant. We honestly can’t let him go home where he could get severely injured again.”
I had no idea what happened behind the scenes once the medics went to my parents’ home today, but something had obviously worsened in a matter of days. I saw them on Friday, and today was Sunday.
“Would you like me to look at the apartment?” I asked my mom.
My mom ignored me as the social worker slid me the brochure.
Everything was proceeding so fast, and I couldn’t even begin to figure out how any of this had happened.
Someone tapped lightly, and I looked up to see Bethany. A sigh of relief escaped my lips, and I didn’t even know why.
“May I come in?” she asked softly.
My mom frowned. “Who are you?”
“I’m Bethany, your husband’s physical therapist.”
“Well, maybe if you’d done a better job, he wouldn’t be unconscious in a hospital room.”
“Mom, enough. Bethany has done a tremendous job. Dad wouldn’t do the exercises at home, and had the pile of crap not been there, things wouldn’t have happened. Apologize.”
“I will do no such thing.” My mom looked like a petulant child, but I wasn’t going to lower myself to my parents’ level. I wouldn’t do it.
“Thanks for coming, Bethany,” I said softly as the social worker traded a look with Bethany.
“You want to talk in the hallway?” Bethany asked.
I nodded, reaching for my coffee cup. “Sure.”
The social worker stayed in the room with my mom as Bethany and I stepped into the bustling hallway. A nurse’s station was a few doors down, centered in a square of joining hallways.
We stopped when we were far enough away, and I leaned against the wall, letting out a huge breath.
“You didn’t have to come.”
She reached for my hand. “I wanted to.” Bethany glanced around. “I thought Mae would have been here.”
“I told her to stay home. I didn’t know what I was dealing with.”
“She’s a good one to have around in a crisis.” Bethany smiled.
“Really? You know this firsthand?”
She laughed. “Yeah. I lost my cat a few months ago, and she was all hands on deck. Not only did we find Charger, but she was also treated like a queen while Mae took care of her until I got there.”
“I’ll file that away.”
Bethany reached for my hand and squeezed it. “Listen, I…”
“You what?”
I didn’t expect Bethany to show up, and I felt awful for liking her presence and guilty that it wasn’t Mae.
“I didn’t realize things would transpire quite like this.”
“No one could have predicted my dad would trip over a pile of crap. I mean I had my hunch, but he’d spent years navigating the place.”
She brought her hand back to herself and grimaced. “That wasn’t exactly what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I did something I shouldn’t have.”
I cocked my head in confusion. “What?”
Bethany let out a heavy sigh. “I called APS on your parents. Your dad, specifically. It was on Friday. I just… You were so kind to him, caring for him, even after all the vitriol that spilled from his tongue. I grew up close to that kind of thing, and I just couldn’t take it. He’d mentioned tripping over something that morning, and I knew you had mentioned trying to clear out the place.”
I stared at Bethany in shock. “You called Adult Protective Services on my parents?”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t my place, and I’m so sorry. When you texted that he’d fallen and was in surgery here, I reached out to Nancy. We went to undergrad together, and I explained the situation, hoping I could halt it because she had contacts at the agency. Turns out, the medics filed some paperwork too. APS had already reached out to Nancy to get the ball rolling. It just all kind of snowballed, and instead of helping you, I probably screwed things up. It’s just that he said something so awful on Friday that I couldn’t help myself.”
“I…” My mouth clenched shut in disbelief. “I can’t thank you enough.”
Her eyes widened. “What? Are you serious?”
“Completely. My brother and I can’t get through to them.” I shook my head. “We always knew it was a matter of time before something happened. I even looked up the laws surrounding self-neglect, but it seemed so subjective, and if the parties didn’t want to participate, things just didn’t go anywhere.”
Bethany hugged herself and twisted her mouth into a pout. “I doubt anything would have gone anywhere this time either, but since your dad happened to fall the same weekend that I reported it… Just a crazy coincidence. But I should have told you first.”
I shook my head as a couple of nurses walked by. “I’m glad you didn’t. Besides, I don’t believe in coincidences.”
She nodded.
“Your secret is safe with me.” I hugged her just as the elevator dinged, and Mae stepped out, her eyes locking on mine.