12. Tobias
CHAPTER 12
Tobias
“ I don’t want to get your seats wet,” Harmony explains as she stands there, getting soaked by the torrential downpour while I hop into my car to get out of the rain.Her declaration is a silly one. If she’d quit resisting and just get in the damn car we’d already be on our way, and she’d be warmer. And drier.
“Get in,” I yell out over the sound of the rain “You won’t hurt it, I promise.” She hesitates another beat before finally opening the door and quickly sliding in. By the time I have my car in drive, she’s got her phone plugged into the jack below the entertainment console.
I reach over and press the button that’ll kick-start the seat to heat. “That’ll help warm you up.”
She nods and clutches her still darkened phone on her lap as it charges. It really was dead if the screen hasn’t even come on yet.
I carefully pull out onto the mountain highway from the dirt parking lot, heading back toward town.There’s an awkward quiet between us as I drive. I don’t do well with small talk. At work, there’s always an array of books to talk to the customers about.
A few minutes into the ride, her phone powers on and chimes with incoming notifications. From the corner of my eye, I see her scroll through them.
“Do you mind if I call my Uncle Sammy? He gave me the Jeep. He might have an idea of what could be wrong with it since it used to be his.”
Her Uncle gave her the Jeep? Hmm. I assumed it was from her parents. An uncle never came to mind. It only makes me more curious about her life and where she came from. Aaand now I feel bad for assuming things I shouldn’t have.
I shake my head in answer but also to push away the shame that creeps in, and say, “Not at all.”
She holds the phone to her ear while it rings. I know this because I can faintly hear it. Then she says, “Hey, Sammy.” There’s a pause. “Well, um, I’m okay, but the Jeep won’t start.”
It’s interesting hearing only her side of the conversation. But also, why would she call her uncle and not her dad? I mean, I get that he gave her the Jeep but still.
“No, the guy who owns the bookstore happened to be there and said that it sounds like a battery or alternator.” There’s another break in conversation due to her uncle speaking. “On the way to the tow shop. He’s driving me there… Okay.” When she looks over at me, I briefly glance back as she asks, “Sammy wants to know the name of the mechanic we’ll take it to?”
“It’s called Three Jims.” I recite their phone number from memory—why I have it memorized, I have no idea—and speak loudly enough so her uncle hopefully hears me.
“Did you hear that? Okay. Yeah. I will, Sammy. I’m okay, I promise. Love you too. Bye.” She hangs up the phone, returns it to her lap, and the awkward silence ensues all over again. I contemplate turning the radio on to drown it out.
“I’m sorry Gibson came over and yelled at you this morning. I didn’t send him over or anything, I swear.” Hearing her say it is so out of the blue takes me a second to understand what she says.
How did she know about the visit from her overprotective ruffian of a cousin? Maybe she saw him. Or maybe he told her about it. As if she’s reading my mind, she continues. “He told me he came over and gave you a hard time.”
I clear my throat, rotating the steering wheel into a turn, and give her a quick glance. She’s wearing a meek smile. One that tells me she truly didn’t know about it. “I didn’t think you’d rat me out. I saw him leave and then double back. I mean, I get it. He’s your…cousin, right?”
She nods. “Yeah. But we’re more like siblings.”
“Makes sense that he was trying to protect you then. He mentioned something about a tight-knit family. But what’s a Rebel? Is it some sort of motorcycle gang or something?”
She snorts an adorable sort of laugh. “No. He meant it as in the Blind Rebels.”
“As in the band ?” Holy shit, who hasn’t heard of the Blind Rebels? I’ve seen them in concert a couple of times—once down in Sacramento and another time in Redding. She’s related to the Blind Rebels?
“Yeah, as in the band.” Her words catch me by surprise as does her grimace before she turns to look out the window. “My dad’s the bassist. His dad plays guitar. They're twins that ended up marrying a pair of sisters so we are almost double cousins.”
“Wait, what?”
“I know, it can be confusing, but the people my cousin and I call mom are sisters. However, they aren’t our biological mothers. Mine died when I was an infant, his is alive but not in his life.”
I get the feeling there is more to this story, but perhaps it only seems that way from an outside perspective.
“Thus, double cousins. I think Gibs and I just made that up when we were kids, but it’s how we feel. All the children of the Blind Rebels members grew up close because the band always considered themselves more like siblings than just bandmates.”
She keeps her focus on the trees outside the window as we drive by, watching and waiting as we come into town. My skin crawls with the silence as it returns to the car. I’ve got to say something, anything to get rid of the awkwardness that engulfs us.
“Richard’s a great guy. He’ll tow you for cheap and take good care of the car. I’ve known him since we were kids,” I tell her, not just to break up the silence but to reassure her that she’s in good hands.
“Does he accept roadside assistance plans?” She grabs her bag and starts rifling through her wallet.
“Doesn’t everyone?” I say it with an air of assuredness when I have absolutely no idea. None at all. A moment later, we pull into the parking lot of Three Jims. “Here we are.”
After dashing through the raindrops in the parking lot at the tow shop, I hold the door open to let Harmony enter first. “Hey, Richard,” I greet as we walk up to the front service counter. “This is Harmony. Her Jeep died at the local’s spot off of Old North Highway.”
She squares her shoulders and steps in front of me, not content with letting me do the talking. I like this side of Goth Girl. She’s willing to do the hard work, to stand up for herself, to talk to people she doesn’t know even though I get the feeling that isn’t something she loves to do. She’s exerting her independence, and I have to admire her for that.
Her voice isn’t timid or hesitant when she speaks to Richard. “I need to have my Jeep towed. Here’s my auto club card and my keys,” she says as she slides them over the counter. “Do you need anything more from me?”
Richard glances at me, and then looks back at Harmony. He can’t figure out why we’re together when I was raking her through the mud at the town hall days ago.
“She’s lucky I was up there, or she’d still be stranded,” I explain, because suddenly, I feel like I have to. “Her phone died.”
“Well, luckily my driver just got back in. I’ll send him up right away to get that towed for you. I’ll bill roadside assistance, but you’ll be responsible for anything they don’t cover.”
She nods and signs the necessary paperwork before giving Richard her credit card information to keep on file.
I drive her the block over to Three Jim’s Auto and find out that her uncle has already called in and put his card on file for fixing the Jeep.
“Sammy, you didn’t have to do that,” she mutters to herself when she finds out. I think she’s secretly pleased, though, because I watch the tension she was holding in her body disperse as she and the youngest of the Jims, also a past classmate of mine, iron out the details of getting her Jeep taken care of.
After Harmony finishes signing everything, we get back in my car. It’s raining so hard that visibility isn’t great. “Is there anything you need before I drop you off at home? Groceries?” I don’t want her walking to the store, or wherever she needs to go, in this weather. She could get sick. Or worse, she could get hurt.
“I’m good. Just drop me at The SeaSong. I’ll walk from there.” She gathers her phone, tucking it and her wallet back into her large tote bag. I glance over at her as I drive. Her eyelids are heavy, and her shoulders sag. She’s running out of steam. I haven’t even tried to find out why she was crying on the beach in the first place. I don’t know if now is the right time to ask. It may just remain a mystery forever.
“You’re not walking anywhere in this rain. Don’t be so stubborn—I’m trying to help you.” As soon as I finish my sentence, my phone rings through the car speakers, the display on the dash telling me my mother’s caretaker is calling.
“Mrs. Peabody?” I answer, concern laced in my tone. She never calls me during the day. “You’re on speaker.”
“Claire took a fall, Toby. She’s being taken to the hospital. I told her to wait for me. But she didn’t and tumbled down the steps going into the garage.”The urgency in her tone has me changing lanes in an instant.
“I’m on my way. I’ll be at the hospital in less than ten minutes.” I turn my car around, making a U-turn, and head straight to Haven Hospital, totally forgetting Harmony is even in the car with me.
I pull into the hospital parking lot and throw the keys at the hospital’s valet and take off for the emergency room entrance.
I’m immediately directed to my mother’s bed in the ER, though having been here before I already know the way like the back of my hand. We live in a small town and our hospital isn’t that big. I wait for the doctor to come back with the results of the x-ray the nurse told me she had done. Since I haven’t met this nurse before, I make sure they remember to note Mom’s early-onset Alzheimer’s with dementia diagnosis.
I move to the side of her bed, picking Mom’s hand up in mine. “Mom, you’re going to be okay. I’m here.”
She opens her eyes and smacks her lips together like they’re dry. “Tobias?” With confusion marring her weathered face, she asks the one question I’ve heard so many times before. “Where am I?”
“You fell, Mom. You’re at Haven Hospital.”
“When can we go home?” She looks so frail in the hospital bed. It seems like she’s getting smaller and smaller these days. I know she eats. Mrs. Peabody makes sure of it, but she’s much thinner than she used to be.
“I’m not sure. It’ll probably depend on if you broke anything.” God, I hope she hasn’t. Breaking a leg or a hip could impact her decline, speeding it up. I’m not ready for that. She’s not that old.
“Why would I have broken something?” She blinks her eyes at me, like she didn’t just hear me tell her that she had a fall.
“Because you stumbled going into the garage without help from Mrs. Peabody.”
“Who’s Mrs. Peabody?” she asks as she picks at her IV. “Why am I really here, Anthony?”
I can’t help but sigh at being called by my father’s name. Again. She knew who I was when I first came in. “You fell heading out to the garage, and they are worried you hurt your leg, Mom. Does it hurt?”
“Does what hurt?” She tries to push herself up into a seated position, but because I don’t want her to hurt herself again, I grab the control for the bed and help her.
“Your leg, Mom. Does your leg hurt?”
“Don’t be fresh with me, sir, I am not your mother. I don’t even know you. You do look a little like my Anthony, though. Except he would never go unshaven. He knew how to keep himself well-groomed.” She struggles against the blanket and sheet that cover her, trying to get up. Fortunately, she’s too weak to really get up. “When will Anthony be here?”
“I’m not sure.”
Sometimes, it’s just easier to play along.
A young woman in a long white coat comes in. I don’t recognize her as one of Mom’s doctors. I wonder if she’s new, or if she’s on rotation from a nearby town. Our town is so small, it’s hard to get medical care without going to one of the bigger surrounding cities at times. It’s also tricky for them to maintain staff throughout the year. It’s been an issue that’s come up in various town hall meetings.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Penelope Woods. I just looked at your x-rays, Mrs. Kelleher. You were lucky, ma’am. You didn’t break anything.” Thank God nothing’s broken. But is this young doctor sure? She seems so young to be a doctor. I can’t help but pray she’s not just a med student filling in. Mrs. Peabody told me that Mom couldn’t move after she fell and that she complained of pain.
“Her caretaker said that she couldn’t get up after her fall.”
Dr. Woods nods. “That can happen, especially when we get older. It’s just not as easy to spring right back up after a fall. Given your mom’s other issues, she was likely confused. But I assure you there are no breaks. I looked over the x-rays myself. Let me show you.” She pulls up the x-rays on her tablet and takes the time to tell me what she’s looking for when it comes to a break. “That’s not to say she won’t be extremely sore and bruised, but her bones are intact, and that is the best news someone her age can get.” She pauses and makes eye contact with me. “I’ve read her chart, but can you tell me more about her other issues? Specifically, the dementia.” She talks low to avoid alerting my mom.
We both instinctively step toward the door and talk in quiet voices as a nurse dotes over Mom. “It seems to have gotten progressively worse within the last couple of months. She’s seeing a doctor in Redding, but it’s getting harder to get her there. Long car rides tend to agitate her.”
Dr. Wood nods again. It seems to be the only mannerism she’s capable of. “What would you say if I told you I knew of a neurologist specializing in Alzheimer’s, dementia, and related diseases who would be willing to travel here on a regular basis?”
My eyes bug out of my head. There’s no way. Still, I say, “Really?”
She gives me a reassuring smile and nods in a way that tells me she’s not joking. “Really.” She pulls a card from her pocket. “Call and get your mom an appointment. You can reference my name.” She pauses to write her information on the back of the cardstock. Then she looks at me with a slight tilt to her head. “I really think she’d do well in Dr. Merlink’s care. The bonus will be that your mom won’t have to travel forty minutes one-way to get care.”
“You can be sure I’ll call as soon as I’m able,” I tell her and pocket the card. That really would be ideal, having someone come to town instead. “Thank you so much.”
“We’ll admit her for a few days to keep an eye on her and run some baseline neurological tests for Dr. Merlink or her doctor in Redding.”
I nod. I’m fine with Mom being watched and tested. It’s been a while since she’s had a checkup. “We’ll get her to a room and settled in. You can stay with her until visiting hours end at nine.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” I reach out to shake her hand, then she slips out of my mom’s curtained area to help someone else.
My mom squints at me. “Are you here to give me a ride home?”
“No, Mom. You’ll stay here for a few days so they can keep an eye on you and run additional tests.”
“You are not my son!” Her voice raises. “Stop saying that.” She tosses her covers off and tries swinging her leg over the edge of the bed. Thankfully the bedrail is raised and she can’t.
“My son is in school, and I need to pick him up. Then maybe we’ll go to the beach. My Tobias loves the beach, just like his momma.” She starts fiddling with the bedrail, trying to lower it. “I miss the ocean.”
“You stay there, Mrs. Kelleher,” the nurse intervenes. “We don’t want you taking another spill. You might not be as lucky next time.”
“This man keeps calling me Mom, and I am not his mother.” My heart sinks into the acidic pit of my stomach as she shrinks away from me in her bed.
The nurse, whose eyes are so damn kind, turns to me. “The doctor ordered medication that will calm her. Maybe you should take a break. Go to the cafeteria and get yourself something to eat. She’ll be calmer by the time you come back. We’ll likely be ready to move her to a room upstairs by then.
I swallow hard and slip out of the room, heading toward the cafeteria on the other side of the waiting area. My gaze lands on Harmony when I pass by.
She’s still here, sitting cross-legged in a hard plastic chair, chewing on red licorice hanging from one hand while she scrolls through her phone that rests in the crook of her legs. Her phone is plugged into the wall behind her.
I didn’t expect to see her sitting out here . Why didn’t she just go home? Maybe she didn’t feel like walking in the rain. Or maybe she didn’t know her way home. I mean, yes, we’re a small town, but we do have a few rideshare drivers and a cab or two. So, why didn’t she go home?
I completely forgot about her being with me. But now that I’m seeing her again, I remember the thwack-thwack of her flip-flops in step behind me on the concrete as I bolted into the ER.
She’s oblivious as I approach, poking at her phone with one finger, chuckling to herself. That crazy hair of hers is now in space buns with little bits of the pink showing here and there. I can’t even remember if her hair was like that when I spotted her at the beach. And that concerns me.
Harmony moves in a way that puts her chin against her chest and lets loose a little snort, looking damn adorable, quite a change from the upset girl at the beach just a few hours ago.
“Hey, you’re still here.”