Page 79 of Love U Down II

“That’s right. My mom stays home for the most part and she and my dad have a system. So you’ll really be there for support, usually for showering and getting him in and out of the bathroom. He feeds himself. He entertains himself. He administers his own meds. He may just need support moving around, but that won’t be consistent. Some days he may need a lot of help. Sometimes he may need none. It just depends.”

“Okay.”

“Any other questions?” I looked at the group of women on the opposite side of the table.

“Scheduling?” one of the women questioned. “There’s three shifts and four of us.”

“Yeah. Honestly, y’all can figure that out as long as you get five shifts a week logged and my parents have support. I don't really care how you split it, but if you can’t figure it out together, Chandler will figure it out for you and we’ll go from there.”

“Okay.”

I looked back at the door of the little room we were in and my eyebrows knitted together when I saw it was our father.

“My bad, but I’ve got to step out.” I pushed away from the table. “Can you handle the rest of this?”

“Yeah. I’ve got it.”

“Thanks.”

I rushed into the hallway and closed the door behind me.

“What’s up?”

“What are y’all doing in there?”

“Hiring you some help.”

“Some help for what?” His voice rose.

“Doing lil shit around the house.”

“What part of I don’t need help don’t you understand, Berlin?”

“I understand you better watch your tone, old man.” I cut my eyes at him and he shook his head.

“I’m serious. Y’all are driving me fucking insane. All you and Chandler and Rome have been doing is fussing over me for the last two weeks and I’m getting sick of it.”

I ignored his statement even though I knew he was right. We were hovering. We couldn’t help it. Rome had rescheduled some of his tour dates and came home. I hadn’t really left our dad’s side since the incident. I was there every waking minute—bringing him breakfast, lunch and dinner, and going with him to physical therapy. Chandler had a husband and kids. Rome had meetings about his tour and album.

I was the one most available, and although Chandler was technically the oldest, as the oldest son I felt the need to step up as the man of the family while my father was temporarily indisposed.

Myome understood. I went home for showers and came back to the rehab facility. She came to see me almost daily.

If anything positive came out of this, it was the reiteration that Myome wasn’t just the love of my fucking life and future mother of my children but that she was one of the most understanding, supportive, and selfless people I’d ever met.

“Mom is getting older, believe it or not. Y’all had a system that’s worked with you and her, but that’s not sustainable anymore. If there are going to be days where you have to do a little less, that’s cool, but she’s going to need support. I’m not going to have her straining to help you at her age, alright? You want me to go back to work and Rome to go back to tour and shit? This is how we get there, by making sure we don’t have anything to worry about.”

My father clenched his jaw, looked off for a moment, then glanced back at me.

“So they’ll just be helping when I’m in pain?”

“Yeah and only helping you get up and shit, so like to the bathroom or to shower or something. They won’t be bringing your ass breakfast in bed or giving you your meds or no shit like that. You’ll still be independent for the most part. They’ll be taking shit off of mom’s plate, not yours.”

“And then you’ll take your ass to the studio?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Berlin––”