Chapter 4
KATE
I absolutely cannot move. Maybe I’m dead.
I seem to remember meeting a strange man. Maybe he slit my throat and drained my body of blood. That could explain the incredible heaviness in my limbs and my reluctance to get up and face the afterlife.
My eyes finally slit open, and wherever I am is dark. The hazy memories from the night before come back in fractions, and I feel a singe of heat on my skin as I recall intense green eyes on my bare skin.
“What the hell did I do?”
I slowly sit up, my head pounding. I don’t even know what day it is. A bolt of lightning shoots through my brain.
Fired. Cheated on. Bar. Alcohol. Sexy stranger. Fancy car. Fancy apartment. Alcohol again. Nakedness . . .
The crash of recollection makes my head pound harder, but my bladder needs to be relieved before I can start damage control or awkward morning-after greetings.
Wow, I must have been really out of it last night.
I don’t remember thinking that this guy must be rolling in the green, but this guy is definitely rolling in the green.
The art on the walls looks like it was stolen from the Louvre.
Every surface in the bathroom is either white or black and shiny.
I take care of my business, wishing I could try out the enormous steel-grey shower that could spray water out of every surface.
“Okay, why the hell am I here?”
I stare at my face in the mirror, horrified at the sight. It appears to have been splashed with water. My eyelashes kept dripping black mascara down at least half an inch, so I resemble a Tim Burton character.
I have to get out of here now. This isn’t my scene.
I need to find a guy with a hard mattress on the floor in the corner with a small, dirty bathroom and a dingy shower curtain.
Fancy places make me nervous that I’ll spill something and eternally damage some kind of priceless computer-chipped device disguised as a paperweight.
I sneak back into the bedroom, surveying the heavenly bed in search of a man’s shape. It looks unoccupied, and as I approach, I can see that it is.
My dress is hanging up on a hook on the back of the door along with my royal-blue bra and thong. I quickly dress myself, layering the grey T-shirt over it to hopefully disguise my painfully obvious walk-of-shame outfit.
As I tiptoe out into the expansive penthouse, I see windows stretching from the floor to the high ceiling and more artwork I’m nervous to even get close to, for fear of tripping and accidentally bumping into it.
I’m extremely accident-prone, and this type of place is my literal nightmare.
It’s beautiful, but I would never recover if I hurt something.
The owner is nowhere in sight. A glass of orange juice is sitting on the counter with two little pills next to my phone and wallet. I guess the plus side of hooking up with a rich guy is less fear of something being stolen from me while I’m asleep. I request an Uber before grabbing the cup.
“Bah, yeah, like I would just take some unknown liquid and drugs from a stranger.” I shake my head as I pour out the orange juice before refilling the glass with tap water and drinking it up.
The kitchen is solid wood, and the lower cabinets are topped with two-inch-thick quartz. There are no upper cabinets, only shelves holding very organized-looking jars of things, like oats and pretzels. It’s design-perfect, and the entire kitchen stretches three times the length of a standard one.
I want to explore, but I also don’t want to run into the man who owns this swanky place in the light of day. Best to cut and run while I can.
The ding of my phone confirms my driver is two minutes out, giving me the excuse I need to get into the elevator and return to my normal life.
Like it never happened.
I stop off at Mel’s place to shower and change into jeans and a fresh shirt. Mel is already at the salon, cutting hair and making people beautiful. Saturdays are her busiest days.
I get in my car to drive over to Memory Care on the north side of town.
The cracked-asphalt parking lot of the nursing home is a welcome sight as I pull into my usual spot.
He’s probably at breakfast now with the other permanent residents.
The yellow bricks and low roofline give away the age of the building, but the nurses who work here have always been kind and attentive.
Sandra, the front desk clerk, waves as I enter through the glass doors, and the typical nursing-home smell greets my nostrils. Most people hate it, and I used to. Now, it’s the familiar scent of the only family I have left.
“They’re at breakfast, sugar,” Sandra tells me.
“Okay, thanks. How is Marco doing?”
Her face lights up. “So big. Growing every day like a tomato plant.”
“That’s good, I hear.” I continue on down the hallway into the cafeteria.
Grey and white heads fill the room with a dark brown one right in the center. I reach his chair right as he sees me.
“Sugar bear! My sweet Katie.” My dad’s face brightens. “Jerry, have you met my girl?”
I’ve met him countless times.
Jerry continues to eat his oatmeal like no one said a word.
My dad stands up to hug me. Nothing in this world can compare to the feeling of a bear hug from my dad.
We both pull back, smiling, and I take the seat next to him.
“Well, honey, this is a nice surprise. I guess you got off work today?”
I used to work on Saturdays for overtime, so my visits were always in the evenings and on Sundays.
“Umm, yes, they let me off today.”
He smiles at me as he takes a bite of bacon.
Bad news doesn’t always bode well with his advanced memory loss.
Recognizing me is usual, but everything else is unpredictable.
Some days, he’s lost in the 1990s when he met my mom and I was born.
It’s like he always knows I exist. Sometimes, I’m still a child in his mind, and somehow, I’m my adult self.
Maybe he thinks there are two of me on those days, but either way, I’m glad he remembers me.
The worst days are when he thinks it’s the year 2000. He was a little paranoid about Y2K, but nothing compared to the devastation of my mother passing away when I was three.
“How is Stephen doing?” Dad smiles at me, and I know his next question will be about an engagement that’s never going to happen. “No ring yet?”
I was dreading this moment, and my emotions are at war within me about breaking the bad news. Is it worth it? I hate lying to him, but his mental health is more important to me than anything.
“He’s doing good. How are you, Dad? Everyone treating you right? Or do I need to teach Jerry here a lesson?”
Jerry’s head pops up at that, dark eyes narrowing at me. His skin contrasts the white curls on his head. “You’d better watch yourself, girl.” He shakes his head, attention returning to his breakfast.
We like to mess with Jerry.
At only fifty-seven, Dad is the youngest resident at the facility. Most of them are in their eighties or nineties, and I think Jerry is on the higher end.
“Jer, he’s . . . he’s all right some days. Last night, he nearly blew a gasket when I beat him at bingo.”
That does it. Jerry’s eyes dart up again, and this time, they’re narrowed on my dad.
“Oh, is that so, Mark? You and your girl had both better watch yourselves. I got a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound grandson who’ll be here in two and a half seconds if I call him up.
You don’t wanna be getting mixed up with my family—I’ll tell you that right now.
” His tiny, frail body rises up slightly.
I cannot express how good I have gotten at my poker face in these situations.
“Tsk, tsk, Jerry. Don’t bring Owen into this. If you lost at bingo last night, there’s always next Friday.”
Dad is barely containing himself to my right, his wheezing laughter beginning to pour out. Jerry’s face contorts, the wrinkles all gathering in the center of his forehead as he stands up from his chair.
He speaks in a loud voice that carries across the room.
“Now, you listen here, Miss Katie. I whoop your daddy’s ass at bingo every Friday night!
I whoop everybody’s ass in this joint on Bingo Fridays and Pictionary Mondays, matter of fact.
” His voice lowers as he reclaims his seat, and a new demeanor overtakes him.
“So, honey, you ready to meet Owen and settle down with some pretty babies?”
The switch is flipped, and we argue back and forth about whether or not I should start having kids yet. Dad forgets that Jerry is referring to his grandson while Jerry forgets that I’m technically supposed to have a boyfriend.
“I really have to get going, Dad.” I almost add on that I need to continue the job search, but I bite my tongue just in time.
He rises to walk me to the cafeteria door, where he’s not allowed to go past until breakfast is over.
“Tell your mom we need ground beef from the store. I want to start doing Taco Tuesdays again.” He smiles, the familiar sight bringing warmth to my belly.
“Okay, will do. I love you so much.”
“Love you too, Kate.”
He crushes me into another hug, and tears unexpectedly build in my eyes.
I wish he weren’t here. Leaving feels like losing a little bit of him every time because I never know what will be there when I return.