25. Jones
25
JONES
Jones:
How ya feeling?
Capri:
Like death. Send help.
Jones:
OMW
Capri:
No. Kidding. I’ll be fine.
Does she remember inviting me over next weekend? Let’s find out.
Jones:
We still on for next weekend?
Capri:
Totally! Remind me again what we’re doing?
I figured her memory would be a little hazy.
Jones:
Tv, snacks, and alcohol. In that order.
Capri:
Right! Ok yeah. Saturday night. 8pm?
Jones:
I’ll be there.
Capri:
:)
“So, what do you think?”
“What do I think? About what?” my mom asks.
I run my hand over the lush fabric. “Your new sheets. Better than the straw ones you had before, huh?” I smile, a sad attempt to get her excited.
Not much does these days.
She lifts the blanket to inspect them herself. “You have something to do with this?” Mom gestures around the room, taking in all the upgrades I’ve had integrated over the last week.
“Me?” My hand finds my chest. “Never.”
She rolls her eyes and reaches for the coloring book beside her. “What am I supposed to do with this?” she asks, holding it up.
“Color. That would be a good start.” I smirk.
“Ass.” Thankfully, I have tough skin, so I laugh. I have to because I know it’s not my mother talking, but the disease.
It’s later in the afternoon, and I spent most of the morning helping Danny and his equipment staff load new railings and bathroom upgrades into the patient care rooms. We installed new handles, toilet seats, bedside touch lamps, and motion-sensored lights leading from the bed to the bathroom, making a guided path for nighttime bathroom breaks.
The smiles and excitement we’ve witnessed have made all the hard work and the cost behind it worth it. I want my mom and every patient here to have the best care possible.
If I can give them that, I will. No questions asked.
Next month, we have a crew coming to help bring supplies for labeling, as well as gadgets to help build confidence and engagement.
If every patient, my mother included, has helpful resources to ease the stress of dementia, they’ll build a confidence that can restore even the smallest amount of hope.
I stay for a while longer, catching up on emails and following up with Romeo and Luca while Mom colors.
The peace is nice.
Thankfully, according to Romeo, all is well at Archer Chartering, and business has been steady. I figured as much with it nearing the end of July, people want their last hoorah before the summer season ends.
Although we stay busy year-round, the summer is more popular for tourists.
Typically, I struggle to disengage from work while visiting back home. When it’s such a big part of your life, or the only part, it’s difficult to let someone else lead and step away.
This time, I find myself thinking less about work and more about how to make the most use of my time here.
With Capri, to be specific.
I know it’s not my smartest move, given she’s made it perfectly clear we can only ever be friends. But I feel the effect I have on her, still do after all this time.
Our interaction at the bar only confirmed it. The way her body shivered beneath my touch. She made no effort to move as I kissed my way down the slope of her neck.
I made my stance known with simply how strongly I reacted toward another man touching her. I’ll remain respectful of her wishes, something I very rarely do with anything.
But for Capri, I’ll wait until she’s ready.
If she ever is.
Noticing at some point my mother has fallen asleep, I tidy up her things, storing them on the bedside table, and give her a kiss on the head.
“I love you, Mom,” I tell her quietly.
As I make my way out of the room, I hear her soft voice, just barely above a whisper. “Proud of you, son.”
And at this moment, I know everything will be okay.