Page 31 of Wild Mistake
“Sounds good. Have fun tonight.”
Pops turns to Jennifer. “Who the hell are you?”
It shouldn’t be funny. If I think about the fact my dad can’t recognize the person who’s been caring for him for weeks, I might actually break down and cry. But his delivery gets me, and I bite back the urge to laugh.
“I’m Jennifer.” She smiles and speaks calmly. “I’m here in case you need anything.”
“Need something? What the hell do I need?” He lifts his annoyed stare to me. “This your brother’s idea, isn’t it? He fusses too much. I’m fine. I don’t need no damn babysitter.”
“Jennifer is not a babysitter,” I say, coming over to sit next to my father. “I’m going out for a bit. What if you get hungry? Or you want to watch the game? You know how confusing the remote can be.”
“It’s all these damn channels,” he agrees gruffly. “Back in the day you only had a dozen of ’em. None of this cable bullshit.”
“I know.” I nod. “Why don’t we see if there’s a game on now?”
“Fine.” He acts put out, but when I take the remote and find a channel that’s replaying an old Dodgers game, he settles back in his chair and watches the television with rapt attention.
“You’re good with him,” Jennifer says. “Patient. Calm.”
This is my father. The man who raised me and taught me about hard work. Who never once made me feel bad about my decision not to follow in his footsteps, pursuing a career in the military instead of raising cattle. I can’t imagine treating him with anything other than the utmost patience. In comparison to the stressful situations I encountered as a Ranger, this ain’t nothing. The hardest part is watching my dad struggle.
“Call me if you need anything. I’ll just be down the road,” I say.
“Okay,” Jennifer says. “We’ll be good here. It’s almost bedtime anyway.”
Today isn’t any different for Pops. There’ll be no toasting to midnight or Happy New Year kisses in this house. Slipping out the door, I wonder if Jennifer has a special someone waiting at home for her. She’s only a few years older than me. I’ve never asked her or any of the caretakers personal questions. It felt intrusive, but now as I walk out to my truck, I wish I had. It doesn’t seem right having a stranger take care of Pops.
He's just so vulnerable. It takes a lot of trust to leave him in the care of others. I’m sure Ryan and Maeve did thorough background checks. Still. I worry. I feel guilty, too. Not just for leaving but for looking forward to spending time away. A place where I can laugh and drink and pretend Pops isn’t losing his precious memories.
I think about this as I make the short drive to Ryan’s. My phone buzzes with an alert, but I leave it until I find an open space to park. I glance around for a familiar car, but don’t find it. Sarah’s not here. I hope she comes. I’ve reminded her every day, but it depends on how her boys feel when they get back from their dad’s. They’re a variable I can’t control.
I pick up my phone, checking the missed message.
Tim: Sorry, been busy with work. Will call soon.
I stare at the screen, irritation growing at my oldest brother’s message. He’s responding to my text a full week later with this bullshit reply? I tap on his name and wait as the line connects and begins to ring.
And ring, and ring, and ring.
“Hey, this is Wild. Sorry I missed your call. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I can.”
“Fucking bullshit.”He let me go to voicemail?“Hey, asshole. I know you are there because I just got your text. Call me back. I need to talk to you and it’s important.”
Yeah, I’m done being polite. He’s avoiding everyone’s calls, and finding out from our cousin that he knows about Pops’ dementia and isn’t making an effort to visit pisses me off. If I’d known about Pops I would have come home sooner.
I exit my truck, grabbing the bags of snacks from the front seat, and walk into Ryan and Val’s. The house is already full. The aroma of good food assaults my senses, along with the laughter and conversation of what feels like half the town. In actuality, it’s only my family and a few friends.
A toddler screams, laughing and running past me, her curls bouncing with each step. I can’t get over how much Lulu looks like Maeve.
My brother-in-law, Alex, chases behind her, not at all amused. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I chuckle, knowing I’ll probably be put on toddler duty at some point tonight.
“Hey, Aiden!” Val comes over and eyes the food I’m holding. “Oh, you didn’t have to bring anything.”
“Can’t show up empty-handed.”
“I didn’t realize that’s a family trait.” She laughs, taking the bags from me. “I think we made way too much food.”
