Chapter 3
“ M omma, try to eat. They said you have to eat and use the bathroom before they will release you for transport.”
“Truce, I’m eating,” she lies.
Her bed is raised and she’s sitting up. Her primary doctor and neurologist just left. They are in agreement that she needs three weeks in rehab. Of course, my mom tried to argue and insist she could go home and just hire a home help aide. She even tried to hire Raejean since she did home healthcare for years. The doctors shut her down expeditiously and me and my dad backed them up.
We both ultimately want what’s best for her and right now that’s rehab and care at Golden Age. It’s going to be an adjustment for all of us, especially him. There hasn’t been one night that I can remember them sleeping apart. Hopefully, I can convince Daija to stay for a while once she gets here. Having her in the house will make it less lonely for him.
“Momma, you haven’t tried anything. At least eat the toast,” I plead. “If you do, you can be ready to go by the time Dad gets back.” My dad left right after the doctors to go home, shower, and change.
Being her normal stubborn self, she ignores me, places the spoon in her hand down, then asks, “Who opened this morning?”
“Momma, don’t worry about the restaurant. I took care of everything.”
“I know you did, but indulge me please. I want to think about something other than being bedridden.”
“You’re not bedridden,” I counter.
“For the next three weeks, I am, but thank God my baby will be home,” she says and I sigh, regret creeping in. I’ve been carrying it for so long that it’s starting to stifle me. I don’t know how much longer I can carry it.
“We need to talk before Daija gets here,” I say. My words heavy with my thoughts.
“Not now, Truce. What’s done is done and this is definitely not the time to discuss this. It changes nothing.”
“It changes everything for me, Ma,” I counter.
“Let it go,” she says, raising her voice, getting visibly agitated. She pushes the food tray away then falls back on her pillow. “When does your sister get here? Go check on that.”
And just like that, the subject is once again closed. A decision was made for me years ago and today is just reinforcement of that decision. Simply because of our location and her condition, I let it go. After pushing her tray back to her, I stand.
“I need some coffee. Try to eat while I’m gone,” I tell her then leave the room.
I need more than coffee though. I need space and air to clear my head. When I pass the nurses’ station, I inform them that I’m stepping out then practically run off the floor. Bypassing the elevators, I opt for the stairs. Thankfully, I’m wearing my UGGs because I bolt down them, taking some two at a time. When I make it down to the ground level, I slam my hands on the push rail and when the door flies open, it hits who or what’s on the other side.
“Damn!” a deep baritone grunts.
“My bad! I’m so sorry,” I say as I cautiously push the door open. When I step out, I see him… Rex Goode.
“Miss Redmond,” he says, sounding as surprised as I am.
Of all people to run into, it’s him. And God, he looks good. A black hoodie, black sweats, and Timbs are pure perfection on this man.
“Truce,” I correct him.
Although I know who he is, he and I have never had any non-Redmond’s interaction and definitely no interactions on a personal level. His picture is even on the wall of the restaurant, so of course, I’m aware of who he is.
“Rex,” he says. “But are you okay?”
“I slammed the door into you. I should be asking if you’re okay. Are you?”
“I’m good. You missed me. The door flying open like that just caught me off guard.”
A low but sexy chuckle falls from his full lips then there’s silence. Neither of us are speaking but we are both staring, my neck craned up to reach his handsome face. I consider myself to be a fairly tall woman at five foot eight but he’s towering over me by at least a foot and he’s leaning down, meeting my glance with his intense one. And to make this even more intense, his cologne is entrancing. Thankfully, my phone breaks the silence and keeps me from folding under his stare. I reach into my jean pocket and pull it out. It’s Daija.
“Sorry. I have to take this,” I tell him and practically run from him, his mesmerizing eyes, and that damn cologne. When I hear the door close, I answer her. “Hey. Are you on the plane?” I ask because she’s not scheduled to land for fifteen more minutes.
“No. I’m here. We landed early and I didn’t check a bag.”
“Oh. Good. Ma hasn’t been transported yet and I’m still at the hospital. Take an iDrive here.”
“Daddy’s getting me.”
“What? Why? He stayed at the hospital all night and he’s home showering and resting.”
“He’s already coming. I called him as soon as I touched down and he said he would come get me. He left already.”
“Daija!” I exclaim.
“You act like I asked him. He volunteered. He sounded fine. I’ll drive when he gets here, dang.”
“All right,” I sigh. “I’ll see you soon.”
I simply end the call, saying anything else is only wasting my damn breath. Daija is spoiled. My parents coddle her and overcompensate in all areas of her life, which means she gets exactly what she wants and capitalizes on the dynamic. When she landed, she could have easily called me but she didn’t. She called him. This frustrates me to no end but it’s my fault too. Because of our dynamic, I spoil her too. As long as there is air in my lungs, I will give her whatever she wants. It’s the least I can do.
I continue to my ride. The air I needed isn’t going to be enough. Caffeine is needed too if I’m going to make it through this day. My old favorite coffee spot recently got bought out by a franchise, Brewed Beans, and I’ve been dying to try their pistachio latte. So I place an order for a mucho grande with heavy whipping cream in the app, then start my engine and make a quick run to pick it up. Their service was so fast; I make it back to the hospital in thirty minutes. When I walk back into my mom’s room, my dad and Daija are here and my mom is sitting on the side of the bed.
“They’re transporting her?” I ask, surprised to see her not laying down.
“Who is her?” my mom asks.
“Sorry, Ma. You.”
“Yeah, sweetie. They should be here in an hour,” my dad says.
“And she wants to put on some clothes,” Daija adds but with question and concern in her voice. Since she hasn’t bothered to stand or greet me, I walk over to Daija, lean in and hug her. As complicated as our relationship is, I love her more than she’ll ever know and actually miss her… a lot. She hugs me back and when I sit down next to her, I notice she’s gotten a little thicker. It’s about time her genes kicked in. She has been a toothpick forever meanwhile if I look at bread or pasta, my favorites, I gain eight pounds. It takes a conscious effort to maintain my size eleven frame. Her size four days are gone. “Don’t say shit,” she whispers to me. “My freshman fifteen decided to rear its ugly head my junior year.”
“You look good.”
“I look swollen,” she counters as she rolls her eyes.
“I’m just glad you came but I don’t think she can change clothes. They have her as a fall risk; we need to call the nurses.”
“Yes, call ’em. She wouldn’t listen to me.”
After placing my latte on the small table by my chair, I stand and walk over to my mom. “Momma, just lay back. Let me see if you can change. I don’t want you to get dizzy.”
“I feel fine, Truce,” she scoffs but I’m not giving in to her stubbornness this time. She had two horrible seizures and she’s nowhere near her normal independent self.
“Right now, and I want you to stay fine. Please, lay back,” I insist as I grab her legs and lift them back on the bed. “Let’s wait and see what the nurses say.”
When she’s totally back in her bed, I press the call button for the nurse. While I wait for them to come, I open the patient closet and grab her overnight duffle bag and start filling it with the few personal things I brought here for her along with the get-well cards and small teddy bears from family and friends.
All of her things are secure in the bag by the time the floor nurse and transport aide walk into the room. The transport aide remains by the door and the nurse ventures to the end of my mom’s bed.
“The transport van and team are here to take you to Golden Age. Are you ready, Mrs. Redmond?” she asks.
“Do I need to get dressed?” my mom asks.
“No, ma’am. You don’t. For now, the doctors want you in a medical gown. Once you are there, settled, and doing a little better, you can talk to them about that but you can put on shoes if you don’t want to walk in your grip socks.”
“There’s slippers in her bag,” I say as I place her duffle on the small sofa. Daija unzips it and finds the slippers. She hands them to the nurse. “We are going to follow her; so if there’s paperwork or something we can take it.”
“The transport team has all of the documents. One of you can ride with her if you like,” she says.
“I will,” my dad says.
“Alright. Then, we are all set. I’ll put your shoes on and we will all step out so they can get you out of here.”
The nurse lowers the bed then helps my mom sit up and turn around. After she places the slippers on her feet, Daija grabs the duffle and I grab the two flower-filled vases and balloons and we walk out with my dad right behind us. The transport team enters and gets my mom.
They allow us to follow them to the medical transport vehicle and we watch as they lift her bed onto the van. My dad walks up the ramp afterward with one of the team members. When they pull off, Daija looks at me with tears in her eyes.
“She looks so weak, Truce,” she damn near whispers.
“I know. That’s why she needs to go to rehab to regain her strength. It’s the best place for her.”
“So… she is going to get better, right?” she asks with heartbreaking concern.
“Of course she is. Momma’s strong, feisty, and too damn ornery not to,” I tell her as she wipes the tears from her face.
“You’re right. She is.”
A wry smile forms on her face but her concern overshadows it. My concern matches hers but I’m trying not to show it for her and my dad. As imperfect as our family is, there’s no shortage of love. Even in our moments of disagreement, the love is ever present. A world without any of us in it is unfathomable.
“Are you okay to drive? We need to head that way.”
“Yeah, I’m good. We parked in valet.”
“I’m in the garage so I’ll meet you over there.”
Since we are in the hospital staff only side of the bay, she walks over to the front for valet and I cut back inside of the hospital. With my full hands, I need to take the elevator down to the parking garage.
The moment I reach the elevator; I try to reposition the large floral bouquets so I can press the down arrow. As I do, a hand grabs one of the vases.
“I got this,” his deep voice announces.
Startled, I loosen my grip on the balloons. When two slip away, he quickly grabs the strings before they get out of reach. That’s when I glance to my left and see him—Rex. Before I can thank him, he presses the up button then grabs the second vase.
“I’m actually going down,” I tell him before pressing the down arrow. “And thanks. You popped up right on time but you don’t have to carry everything.”
“Yes I do. Your hands were full.” Really appreciative, I thank him again. One of the two elevators opens but it’s the one going up. Then, less than a minute later, the other opens. About four people walk off then we walk on. “I thought you were taking this up to some lucky patient,” he says.
“No. My mom was discharged today.”
“I hope she’s okay,” he says with concern.
“She’s got some recovery to do but I’m prayerful and hopeful.”
“Prayers up for real.”
“Thank you so much. Prayers are needed.” The elevator reaches the ground level and the doors open. When we step out, I reach out for my stuff. “Thanks again. I got it from here.”
His eyebrows get tight and he stands firm. “Truce, I’m taking this to your ride. Lead the way,” he says with finality in his sexy, deep baritone, leaving no room for an objection or rebuttal from me.
I walk toward my car and he’s right behind me. When we reach it, I pop my trunk. There’s a box and towel inside; I came prepared. Gingerly, he places the flowers into the box and I cushion the towel around the vases. Next, he hooks the balloons through the left handle then ties them in place.
“Thank you and to show my appreciation, dinner’s on me the next time you and your pretty little girl come in,” I tell him.
“Her name is Aryel and no thanks to dinner. I pay my way, Truce. I just did what any man would have done. Light work.”
“I don’t know about any man,” I utter then laugh to myself, thinking about my selfish ex.
“I said man, not a boy.” He waves his foot under my bumper and the trunk slowly closes.
Well okay, Rex!
While I could stay standing here next to this sexy man who makes me feel oddly comfortable in his presence, I really need to get to Golden Age. I don’t want to miss anything concerning my mom’s care plan and treatment.
“I better get going. See you and Aryel this weekend?”
“You’ll see us.”
I walk toward my driver door and he follows. After opening my door, he closes it once I’m inside. Then, he steps back and remains standing there until I start my engine and back out.
I guess real gentlemen do still exist .