Chapter 12
RAQUEL
Isat in my truck outside my house, staring at the desert while the doctor gently explained that my father’s brain was beginning to fail him. “Our tests show that he’s in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s disease. Early onset. It’s good you brought him in, Ms. Thompson. We caught it early.”
My eyelids slammed shut, the other words he was saying just drifting in one ear and out the other. I heard words like “manageable” and “good prognosis considering his age and general health,” but it barely sank in.
This was brutal, hearing a specialist confirm what I’d feared most. When I reopened my eyes, I half-expected something to have changed. My father, my absolute, all-time hero, had Alzheimer’s.
Surely, that meant an event of apocalyptic proportions had to happen right now, but the sky wasn’t falling, a lone bird was still calling from somewhere, and the dry heat was still baking the dust around my house like nothing had changed.
“Your father has been in good health until now, but he’s definitely declining,” the doctor was saying when I tuned back in. “At this point, we usually advise our patients’ families to start long-term planning.”
“Wha—” My voice failed me, just completely giving out on the first word I’d tried to speak since receiving the news. I cleared my throat, but I still sounded unsteady when I finally managed to voice the question. “What does that mean, long-term planning?”
“You need to start thinking about the future, Ms. Thompson,” he said gently. “Things like what is going to happen to his business and how you’ll be handling his finances. This is also a good time to start considering your support system in terms of future care.”
Future care. Good Lord.
I pressed the heel of my hand against my forehead and tried to remember how to breathe. My dad still climbed under trucks every other day, rebuilding carburetors nobody else in the county would even touch, and now I was suddenly supposed to start thinking about how we were going to care for him?
“We don’t know how fast the disease will progress,” the doctor said.
“It could be years before he needs full-time care, but he could also require it sooner. Everyone is different, but if you’re going to be considering a care facility, for example, now is a good time to start taking tours and finding out about availability.
You could also start discussing the eventuality of care with your support system to see if or how you might be able to manage caring for him yourself. ”
Holy fucking shit.
I swallowed hard. If he could just tell us exactly when things were going to get bad, at least we could brace for impact, but this?
Uncertainty was a lot harder to fight. How are we supposed to accurately prepare for shoving Dad into a home?
“Thank you,” I finally muttered. “We’ll look into what needs to be done.”
“Good luck, Raquel,” the doctor said. “My office will call to set up another appointment.”
I nodded despite the fact that he couldn’t see me. Then I hung up and just sat there, gripping the steering wheel so hard that my knuckles were white. But I wasn’t going anywhere. The truck’s engine was already off. Logically, I should’ve just climbed out and gone into my house, but I didn’t.
I couldn’t move, some deluded part of me feeling like it would become real if I got out. Like the truck was now my bubble of delusion and as long as I stayed in it Dad would be fine.
After staring at the house for another full minute, I abruptly started the truck again. Nope. I can’t do it. These feet aren’t hitting the dirt just yet. Not until… just… not yet.
There were suddenly so many things I had to do and consider that I’d never even thought of.
My dad was only in his mid-fifties, for God’s sake.
He wasn’t old, frail, or weak. To me, he was like Superman, but if Superman was smart too, always able to solve any problem and being able to give advice on exactly what to do.
Now I had to somehow process that he was not infallible, immortal, or immune to every disease. I mean, what the hell?
It felt impossible that he could have Alzheimer’s.
Any other person, sure, but Clyde Thompson? No way.
Dad could remember baseball stats from the year I was born and he could recite a poem he’d been taught in elementary school with barely a prompt.
My thoughts trailed off as I drove into town because it was then that I realized that wasn’t true anymore.
Or at least, he hadn’t been doing any of that for at least a year.
All those things he used to know so well, the price of every item in our inventory and the ideal size tire for every truck, evaded him these days. Often.
On a whim, I pulled into the grocery store parking lot and headed inside to pick up some stuff to take over to his house.
Feeding him and making sure he ate well suddenly felt vitally important.
Operating entirely on autopilot, I grabbed a cart and started loading up the essentials, like eggs, milk, ground beef, and every fruit and vegetable he actually liked.
I was trying to remember the flavor of soup he liked when Frieda appeared in front of me. She stopped her cart directly next to mine, and for a second, I wondered if she sensed vulnerability like sharks smelled blood, but thankfully, she didn’t ask if I was okay.
“Theo seems to be spending a lot of time over at the auto shop,” she commented, not even pretending to study the shelves around us. “Is there something you’d like to tell me, dear?”
“No.” I frowned, squinting at her as I shook my head. “I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Theo,” she repeated. “You know who I’m talking about. That pretty guy who rolled into town on a beat-up motorcycle with nothing but a backpack and a billion-dollar smile.”
“Isn’t the phrase a million-dollar smile?” I asked, knowing it was probably irrelevant, but my brain felt like cotton candy right then. “You know what? Never mind.”
“I’ve done some asking,” she said, finally twisting to grab a box of cereal and unceremoniously dumping it in her cart. “He’s available.”
“Available for what?”
She let out a dramatic sigh, as if she couldn’t believe she actually had to explain this to me. “It means he’s currently romantically unattached, Raquel, but if you want me to put it bluntly, he’s single.”
“Oh.”
Peering at me over the rims of her horn-rimmed glasses, she huffed out another breath, clearly getting exasperated now. “You are also romantically unattached and you’re both young. You should ask him out.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah.” My eyes widened when I realized what I’d just said. “I mean no. I’m not asking him out. Both of us being young and single does not mean we have to get together.”
I shook my head, trying to figure out how I was even having this conversation right now.
Frieda’s sharp eyes narrowed, her gaze skimming across my face. “Are you alright, kiddo? You’re looking a little pale.”
It had only been the barest, most basic of questions, but I still almost broke down and told her everything. I just couldn’t do it because Avery had to be the first to know. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
It wasn’t the most convincing lie I’d ever told, but at least she didn’t call me out on it. Instead, she tossed another box of something into her cart, then reached out and patted my shoulder. “Take an old wise woman’s advice and ask the pretty boy out before somebody else snaps him up, would you?”
I nodded absently, turning back to the shelf and realizing I had no clue what I’d been after in this aisle anymore. Frieda strode away and I ended up half-following her, grabbing a few more things Dad liked before driving back to the shop.
He lived in a house at the edge of the property, and when I walked in, he was asleep in his recliner, news anchors murmuring on the TV in the background. I carried the groceries inside and filled his fridge, desperately trying not to think too far ahead.
There were so, so many decisions to be made, and honestly, I didn’t even know where to begin. Eventually, I started dinner because at least that gave me something concrete to do, but every time I glanced over at him, fast asleep in his favorite chair, my heart cracked all over again.
He looked exactly the same, and yet, everything had changed. A painful lump took shape in my throat, disbelief cascading through me like a merciless wave, but thankfully, with the stew now simmering on the stove, I could get on with the next thing on my mental to-do list.
Telling Avery.
His truck was parked outside the shop, which meant he was still there, and that meant I couldn’t put it off any longer.
Future care. Fucking hell. How am I even supposed to start this conversation?
I still hadn’t figured it out by the time I walked into the shop, where Avery and Theo were hanging out near the front desk, laughing about something involving fire. Soft country music played from the radio in the office. The smell of oil lingered in the air.
Everything here was the same too, and at the same time, nothing would ever really be the same again. I honestly couldn’t get over it.
No balls of lava had dropped from the sky when the doc had given me the news. The grocery store had still been there, the same savings being offered as every other Tuesday. Frieda had been completely normal and even Dad’s workshop was exactly, precisely the same as it’d always been.
How is any of that possible? How dare the world just… keep going like this? Seconds away from shaking my fist at the heavens like some deranged bag lady, I drew in a deep breath and bottled up the urge to rant and rave.
Avery and Theo both looked up when I came in, and immediately, I knew they could both tell something was wrong. Avery straightened, his face growing ashen as he stared at me. “What did the doctor say?”
Fuck, this is going to make it desperately, horrifyingly real, isn’t it? Fuck.
Every trace of humor and laughter vanished from Theo’s face as he slid off the stool he’d been on to give me space near the counter. “Raquel?”