Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“Grandpop?” I call out, feeling anxious. Dirty dishes are stacked in the kitchen sink. He must’ve managed to make dinner on his own. Guilt hits me hard. Normally, we eat together every night. I do the cooking, the washing up, while he rests in his big easy chair. Instead, the poor guy fended for himself.
“In here,” he calls out. Voice a rasp, followed by a cough.
I grimace at the painful hacking noise.
Grandpop looks at me from beneath his mop of thick gray hair. He’s sunk down into his chair while some guys shoot at each other in black and white on the TV. He’s smaller in person than he is in my memory, like the cancer’s eating more than his lungs, it’s eating him too. When I was a little girl, Grandpop was a giant, so deeply alive. Now, he’s like a whisper of his former hearty self.
The soft whoosh of the oxygen machine’s a familiar white noise. I walk over, bend down, and kiss his cheek.
“Hi, Grandpop. I’m home.”
“You were out all night.” He doesn’t say it in an accusing way, only stating a fact. Grandpop’s like that, been like that my whole life. I never do anything wrong, exactly, but I do plenty that disappoints him.
Sometimes I wish he’d get mad.
“Sorry. I had a job run long then I crashed with a friend.” Half-truths. I hate lying to him.
“Glad you’re okay,” he mumbles, frowning at me. “Call next time.”
“I will. Promise. How was last night? You manage all right without me?”
“Eh,” he says, waving me away. “You hover too much. I’m fine.”
“Yeah? You look fine. Is that the same sweatshirt you were wearing when I left?”
He grunts, picking at himself. “Nah, can’t be.”
“Pretty sure that’s the same paint stain on the shoulder.” I nudge him. “You’re sure you’re fine?”
His eyes narrow for a moment, but he breaks out into a grin. “Fine, okay, you caught me. Can’t sneak past you.”
“I’m like a hawk.” I crouch next to his chair. “Want help getting changed?”
“Nah, Mary will do it.”
I tilt my head side to side. “That’s not really her job.”
“What’s her job then, huh?”
“Check your vitals. Make sure you’re still alive. That sort of thing.”
“She can help me get changed. Mary’s nice.”
I sigh, but don’t argue. Mary the home nurse is nice, but he shouldn’t test her boundaries. “You hungry?”
He shrugs like it’s no big thing. “I could eat.”
Which means he’s starving but didn’t have the energy to cook breakfast.
Guilt flashes into me again. How can I leave Grandpop alone for an extended period of time? With Mary only coming every other day, and then only for a couple hours?
“I’ll make you something.” I head into the kitchen, feeling like shit, rethinking this entire situation.
Grandpop won’t be okay without me here. But if I turn Lanzo down, I won’t make any money, and if I don’t make any money—
There’s no good option. Everything’s fucked. I want to help Grandpop, and in the long run, getting this cash is the best thing for him. Once I have the three million, I’ll hire a nurse full-time if I have to. I won’t ever need to leave again. We’ll live off savings for as long as we can.
For as long as he has left.
I shiver at the thought. Tears fill my eyes, but I shove them away. No time to cry now.
“Nice place.”
I jump, yelping, whirling around with my spatula raised high. Lanzo’s standing in the kitchen door, smirking at me.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I hiss at him. “We said you’d stay in the truck.” I glance toward the living room. I don’t want Grandpop to find Lanzo in here—I have no clue how I’d explain him.
“Got bored. Where’s your Grandpop?”
“Stop it,” I say, waving him off as he pokes around the kitchen. I smack his shoulder hard with the spatula, which makes him laugh. “Get out of here, you idiot. I don’t want Grandpop to see you.”
“Renny?” Grandpop shouts from the other room. “You okay? Are you talking to someone?” He coughs hard. I glare at Lanzo. That was his fault.
“All good, just talking to myself,” I call back then flip on the radio.
“Renny?” Lanzo’s eyebrows work up and down. “I like that. Very cute.”
“If you call me that name, I swear I will cut your throat in your sleep.” I jab the spatula at him like a knife. “Listen to me, you maniac. I’m going to cook Grandpop something to eat, then I’ll pack, then we’ll go. Okay?”
“Sure, that works.” He leans against the counter. “Is he going to be fine without you here?”
I hesitate, scrambling the eggs with a righteous fury. I hate him for asking that question, since it’s the one thing I’ve been worrying about since coming inside.
“I’ll figure something out,” I say at last.
“I can advance you some money.” He glances at me, expression neutral, like he’s purposefully putting on a poker fake. “If you want to hire someone to watch him while we’re busy.”