Chapter 14
fourteen
“Can you grab my black bag from the backseat? It should be the last thing that needs to go inside,” I say, attempting to close the trunk of my car while my almost-numb arms are weighed down by the bags I’m carrying.
I want to avoid another trip out to the car at all costs.
“I don’t understand why my mom needs all of this at rehab. ”
“You know how your mom is. She wants all her things just in case she might need them.” Jake chuckles, grabbing my bag off the backseat and swinging it over his arm.
“Don’t you pack the same way? Wasn’t there a so-called magic bag in high school that had everything anyone could ever need in it? It was like a Mary Poppins bag.”
I gasp and attempt to appear offended, refusing to acknowledge he’s carrying the adult version of my magic bag.
“What’s wrong with wanting to be prepared?” I ask, leading the way toward my mom’s room.
It’s been almost two weeks since the accident, and she was finally discharged this morning to an inpatient facility where she’ll spend the next four-to-six weeks.
She’s hoping it’s less than four weeks, but I’m praying it’s closer to six.
She might have been an excellent nurse back in the day, but she’s the world’s worst patient, refusing to follow the doctor’s orders if they don’t suit her.
Or my favorite, if she doesn’t agree with them because she’s found another course of treatment in some random Facebook group.
At least Jake’s work is fairly fluid and flexible right now, allowing him to visit my mom with me every day.
He’s been a godsend, with a natural gift for making her more pleasant and tolerable.
By the time we get to her room, I’m winded from carrying too many bags. I gently knock on the slightly open door and push it with my foot. “Hey, Mom. We’re here.”
“It’s about time. What took you so long?” my mom says from her spot in a navy recliner near the hospital-style bed in her private room. “My case manager is meeting with us in a few minutes. I was worried you were going to be late.”
“Sorry about that. It’s my fault. Had to finish up a call before we could leave.” Jake smiles, putting the bags he’s carrying on the floor. He walks over to me and starts lightening my load.
I raise my eyebrows and smirk at Jake because he’s not the reason we’re late.
It was one hundred percent my fault. I was in the midst of putting out fires at work and completely ignored my alarm telling me it was time to leave.
If Jake hadn’t reminded me, I’d still be sitting on the couch in a never-ending video meeting, while Jeremy had a mini meltdown about one of our clients hating the creative concept for their summer campaign.
“Don’t worry about it, Jake. You have a lot going on. Take all of the time you need,” Mom says with a genuine smile.
Another one bites the dust. She’s always had a soft spot for Jake, even though she believes he’s a hellion and the reason behind all my bad decisions growing up.
It only takes a wink or a grin for her to fall for his charms. Like every other freaking woman.
I might be the only person in this world who can see through his nonsense.
He used to joke that I have a force field preventing his charisma from enchanting me.
He’s not wrong. I’ve been proudly immune to it since we were kids.
Or, at least, I was until recently. Having him around lately has been getting under my skin and confusing me, making me see him in a different light.
Jake and I spend the next few minutes organizing the various bags containing my mom’s stuff as she provides us with exact directions on where she wants everything.
Not sure why she needs her entire makeup kit, jewelry, four pairs of shoes, and a month’s worth of clothing at rehab, but I learned to stop arguing with her a long time ago.
Much easier to go along with what she says and not worry about it.
“Knock, knock,” a middle-aged woman says as she walks into the room with a cheery demeanour. She does a double-take when she sees Jake standing next to me in the corner of the room. “I’m Diane, your case manager. It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.”
We go through a quick round of introductions before Diane jumps into discussing my mom’s schedule for the next few weeks.
The rehab plan is significantly more grueling than what Mom experienced at the hospital, making me question how she will handle it.
I furiously take notes about her rehab and attempt mental gymnastics about how I’m going to balance work with the limited free time her schedule allows.
“As you can tell, the next few weeks are going to be intentionally hard on your mom. We need to start pushing her body to get a better idea of what she can and can’t do.
She’s going to be exhausted every day,” Diane says, looking at my mom, then shifting her focus to me.
“We highly recommend that visitors only come during lunchtime for the first few weeks. I know it’s probably a big change from what you could do at the hospital, but we need your mom focused on her physical therapy. ”
“Okay. I’ll do whatever is best for her recovery,” I say, biting my lower lip, hoping my mom takes this news well. Jake glances at me with a tense smile as if he’s waiting with bated breath for a bomb to go off.
My mom purses her lips and crosses her arms. “I don’t love it.
I’d prefer to see my daughter multiple times a day.
However, I want to get out of here as soon as possible, so we’ll do it your way…
for now.” There is a firmness to my mom’s voice, making it clear that if this therapy schedule doesn’t meet whatever imaginary goals she has in her mind, she’ll take matters into her own hands. God help us if that happens.
“Great. I’m glad we’re aligned,” Diane says, handing my mom a paper schedule and distributing a copy to me. “I’ll leave the three of you to catch up. Don’t take too much time. Your first session starts in twenty minutes.” She gives us a big smile before walking out the door.
“Since we don’t have much time, you can leave my bags where they are.
I’ll unpack everything later.” My mom looks around, mentally organizing the room.
I have no idea how what we brought will fit in here.
“What’s with your appearance lately? I get being disheveled for the first few days after the accident, but this is getting a bit much.
Have you completely given up on how you look? ”
The wind is completely knocked out of me. I’m not trying to win any beauty competitions, but I didn’t think I looked that bad. Definitely not bedraggled enough that it was worthy of a comment. I glance at my outfit, trying to figure out what she sees that is so glaringly wrong.
“Kitty Kat, I think you look beautiful today. I like the more relaxed version of you,” Jake says, flashing me a megawatt grin and winking.
I mouth “Thank you” in his direction, knowing his comment should shut my mom up for a few minutes.
“We probably should be going. Don’t want your mom to be late for her first therapy session. We all know she’s going to want to be the star student.” He beams at my mom, who immediately returns it, acting like the previous interaction didn’t happen.
There he goes saving me again. Standing up to my mom, not letting her shit on my feelings. The only question is, can I trust him?