I feel like a fucking chump as I walk out of the garage without a word to any of the guys.
Waiting around and not knowing is fucking killing me, and I decide that I just can’t do it any longer.
I fire off a final text before heading inside.
Me: Why don’t we meet for dinner?
She’ll either accept or reject the offer, but at least I’ll know exactly where I stand with her.
I didn’t know how hard it would hit me when she doesn’t text back.
Chapter 37
Sylvie
“None of that.”
I wipe tears from my face as Sunshine enters the room.
“It’s a cold, nothing more. He’s going to be fine.”
I nod, hearing her words but still not understanding why this man just can’t seem to catch a damn break.
“The oxygen is just to make him a little more comfortable.”
I squeeze his hand a little harder, but it doesn’t rouse him from his nap. I don’t necessarily want to wake him, but the slow rise and fall of his chest just doesn’t seem like enough for me to fully accept her words.
Big Daddy has been like this for three days. What started as a sniffle has turned into him being in bed, the complete opposite of his normal active self.
“Can I get you anything?”
I shake my head. The things I need aren’t things she can provide.
I should be in a better place emotionally. The sale of the house and land in Telluride went through, and the money has been put in a trust account for Naomi and the baby. When my cousin gets out of treatment, she’s going to have the financial stability to take care of her child. My cheeks turn up in a small smile at remembering the phone conversation I had with her. She cried as she thanked me for following through on my end of the bargain. I know the woman hasn’t had many people in her life who have kept their word.
Medicare has kicked in to help pay for Big Daddy’s residence here at the care facility, and that takes a ton of stress off of me, but I still can’t find light at the end of the tunnel.
My life isn’t filled with darkness any longer, but so many shadows remain. I can’t seem to get them to lift away, and not feeling the proverbial sun on my face has been difficult to manage.
“Maybe a walk in the gardens?” Sunshine suggests. “It is the first day of spring after all.”
I give her a weak smile, looking down at my resting grandfather before standing.
I don’t want to take a walk. I’ve never been one to care about scenic views and pretty flowers. It doesn’t provide the same serenity for me that it does for others, but it seems I’ve turned into a people pleaser.
I nod at several patients as I make my way through the facility and out the back door. Calendar-wise spring is here, but the gardens have yet to get the attention they deserve. The browns left over from winter, however, fit my mood. I feel just as withered and in need of a loving touch as the flower beds.
I can admit as I take a seat on a cement bench that the fresh air does help to clear my head a little. It allows me to look at things in a different perspective, allowing a little more hope to seep into me rather than the constant doom and gloom I feel sitting vigil over Big Daddy’s sleeping form.
I manage a weak smile as an elderly woman approaches, the wheels of her walker fighting the roughness of the concrete as she toddles toward me. I scoot over, making room for her on the bench when it becomes clear she’s going to sit right beside me.
“Good morning,” I offer as she situates her walker to the side of the bench.
“You look like you need a hug,” she says, and my smile grows.
What is it about advanced age that makes people of her generation just get right to the point?
I don’t agree, and she doesn’t offer an actual hug.