Chapter 17 #2
The stories came slowly, pulled out one question at a time, but once they started, I learned more from what he told me than any chart ever could.
Forty-two years building houses.
Widowed almost six years.
Two sons.
Four grandchildren.
Season tickets to the Yeti before Parkinson’s made walking through Mile High Arena more trouble than it was worth.
Every few minutes, he’d take a careful sip of water, swallowing twice before setting the glass back down. His face rarely changed expression, even when he made a joke, but now and then his eyes softened enough to let me know I’d earned another inch of ground.
Soon enough, our time together was over, and I packed up my stuff. “Are your sons going to watch the game with you this weekend?”
“Are you a Yeti fan?” Walt looked a little more surprised than he had yet.
“I know a little.”
“They’ve got jobs. Kids. Lives.” His eyes lingered on one of the newer family pictures before settling back on the crossword. “They call every Sunday.”
It was an afterthought, like he wanted me to know they hadn’t forgotten him. Even so, something ached in my chest, not because his sons weren’t there. From everything he’d said, it sounded like they loved him, but life simply kept moving.
I closed the newspaper and set it back where I’d found it. “Thanks for chatting with me today, Walt.”
He looked at the half-finished crossword, then at me. “So you’re coming back?”
“Yes. I’ll be here once a week.”
Another almost-smile. Barely perceptible beneath the rigidity Parkinson’s had settled across his face, but his eyes gave him away.
I was already in the hallway when his gravelly voice carried after me. “And go Yeti.”
For the first time all morning, I smiled without forcing it.
“Go Yeti.”
The rest of the day passed similarly, and when I made it to my car at the end of my shift, I was dead on my feet. Maybe that was why I opened the text thread I had muted. The one I always avoided.
Asshat
Did you leave town?
Dickwad
And no goodbye? I thought we raised you better.
I rolled my eyes, throwing the phone to the side. There were several other texts in the same thread between my brothers and me, but I deleted them all.
You owe them nothing.
Less than nothing.
Thoughts and images of all the times my family had been awful to me came to the surface, picking this already weak moment to prey on the negative thoughts spinning through my mind.
As if she could tell I needed her, my phone chose that moment to ring. Except instead of my brother’s names popping up, it was Lori.
I sat there and listened to it ring, hating that I hadn’t talked to her since I left town. I hadn’t even said goodbye, which made me feel even worse.
Like Walt’s kids, I knew she knew it wasn’t because I didn’t care.
She understood that I had to live my life.
She even understood why I had always been so desperate to get out of Linwood.
So why was I sick to my stomach over leaving her behind?
Before I could talk myself out of it, I hit accept. “Hey Lori.”
“Well, hi, sweet girl. I was thinking about you.”
I grinned, letting my head fall back against the headrest. “Same. How are you doing without me?”
“I’m good. Beckett and Emmy are taking good care of me, and Jace comes by before and after school.”
“I’m sure he’s ready for the pond to freeze over.”
“Soon enough,” Lori said. “Then I’ll never be alone.”
That made me laugh, picturing how chaotic her house got during hockey season.
It was December by the time her pond froze over most years, but sometimes it would last into late March, even April.
When we were kids, my brothers and the hockey team had used it as free ice time.
Now, the current Mayhem did the same thing.
“Enough about me. How are you?”
“Leena’s great,” I said without having to think through it.
“How’s work?”
“Okay, I guess. Not what I was expecting, but I had a Parkinson’s patient today that kind of reminded me of you.”
“Parkinson’s?” she asked, sounding confused. “I thought you were working with kids.”
“Not right now, no. Turns out I made such a good impression when I told them about you in my interview, they decided I was a better fit for adult patients.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
I took a deep breath, thinking through her question. “I don’t know. At first, I was disappointed. This isn’t what I was picturing, but it’s not all bad.”
“Good. I bet you’re good at it.”
“Based on what?” The question sounded snarkier than I meant it.
“Well, you always made me feel good about where I was at. When I was frustrated with myself, feeling like I’m trapped in this body that won’t cooperate anymore, you never batted an eye. Just kept going like it wasn’t worth paying attention to, and the disease didn’t change your view of me.”
“It didn’t.”
“See?” Lori said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “Don’t give up yet. You’ve wanted this forever.”
“I wanted pediatrics forever,” I admitted. “I wanted to help kids who...” The memories my brothers’ texts had brought back to the surface. “Kids who needed someone in their corner.”
“Like you did.”
I closed my eyes. “Yeah.”
She let the silence linger for a moment before speaking again. “You know what I think?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“I think you’ve spent so much time focusing on who you wanted to help that you forgot why you wanted to help them.”
I frowned.
“I bet you these patients need you in their corner as much as kids do. Maybe even more so if they’re alone. It’s not like we have our parents advocating for us anymore.”
My throat tightened, remembering how lonely Walt seemed. I looked back toward the assisted living building through my windshield.
“Age doesn’t matter, sweetheart.” Her voice softened. “We need you for the same reason those kids do. We’re trying to hold on to something we don’t want to lose.”
I swallowed hard, hating that she included herself in those statements. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”
“Now,” Lori said. “Tell me about Mikko. I want the good stuff.”
“I don’t even know what to tell you.”
“That good, huh?”
“More like complicated.”
“Complicated, in a, ‘oh no, my husband is attractive and I want to jump his bones’ way?”
She couldn’t see me, but my cheeks flamed at the memory of last night. “Ew. I’m not answering that.”
“Oh, come on,” Lori whined. “Make my romance novel dreams come to life. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other.”
“We do not look at each other.”
We absolutely did, but Lori was the closest thing I’d ever had to a mom, and under no circumstances was I about to tell her how complicated things felt right now.
“We’re both focused on Leena, and that’s working well.”
“Good,” she said. “Boring, but good.”
I chuckled, feeling better that she still sounded like her sassy self. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“You couldn’t disappoint me if you tried.”
It was the most Lori thing she’d ever said, but tears sprung in my eyes at the words. I blinked them away, exhaustion getting the better of me.
“I’ve never said thank you,” I admitted, unable to keep my thoughts from veering into the vulnerable right now.
“It’s me that should thank you. You put your whole life on hold for me.”
I shook my head. “No. Before that.”
Lori was quiet for a beat, like she already knew exactly where my mind had gone. “My darling girl…”