Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“I know,” I reply through gritted teeth. Don’t mess with me today, Jenny.
I am not in the mood.
“Thanks, Jenny.”
Thanks for nothing, bitch.
I do some cleaning and vacuum the floor. And then I prep my dinners for the week. I’m working afternoon shifts and want to try and be organized and healthy.
Where could he possibly be?
His father.
Oh fuck, I hadn’t even thought of that. Shit, shit, shit.
I scramble through Google to look for the nursing home’s phone number, and I call.
“Hello. San Sebastian Nursing Home.”
“Hello, can I be put through to the level-two nurses’ station, please?”
“Transferring you now.”
“Hello, level two. Christine speaking.”
I wince. I don’t really know Christine. I’ve never worked with her before. “Hi, Christine, it’s Juliet Drinkwater calling. We’ve never actually met, but I’ve seen your name on the roster. I do one shift a week.”
“Yes, hello, Juliet. I’ve seen your name on the roster too. How are you?”
“Good.” I pause. I know she can’t tell me anything.
“This is a random question, but I was wondering how Bernard James from room 206 is?”
“Oh . . . um.” She pauses.
“Off the record, of course,” I say. “He’s actually my boyfriend’s father, and I can’t get ahold of my boyfriend and am getting worried. His name is Henley James. Have you seen him?”
“Oh . . . ,” she replies. “You might want to come down here.”
“What’s happening?”
“Mr. James’s room is being cleaned out.”
My eyes widen. There’s only one reason someone cleans out a room.
No.
“He died?” I gasp.
“You didn’t hear it from me.”
My heart stops.
No.
“I’m on my way.” I hang up, grab my keys, and run for the door.
I walk down the corridor with a deep sense of dread. I have no idea what I’m about to walk into.
Only that Henley hasn’t called to tell me and his phone is now turned off.
Henley being Henley, I’m assuming he wants to deal with this alone.
Tough titties. He’s got me now.
I get to the door and stand outside as I peer in through the glass window.
Henley is methodically taking clothes out of the closet, folding them, and putting them into a box.
He’s emotionless, collected.
His silhouette blurs as the lump in my throat closes over.
I knock softly, and he glances up and sees me. Before he stops himself, I see a fleeting flash of anger across his face. “Come in,” he calls in a clipped tone. He continues to fold the clothes without looking up.
He’s on autopilot. Cleaning is his way of controlling the situation.
I brace myself; I don’t even know if I’ve done the right thing by coming. I just knew I didn’t want him to be alone while doing this. I open the door, walk in, and close it behind me. “Hi,” I say softly.
“You’ve heard the news, no doubt,” he snaps as he angrily flicks a pair of pants.
I stay silent as I watch him.
“You can go home. I’m fine.” He flicks the pants again as if to get something off them.
My heart breaks.
“It’s for the best, anyway.” He keeps folding the clothes. “He had no quality of life for a long time.”
I go to sit on the bed.
“Don’t sit there,” he barks.
I quickly stand back up.
“I want to . . .” He opens and closes his hands by his sides, highly agitated. “I need to change the linens.”
He’s skating along the edge of sanity.
I stand still, unsure what to do. “What happened?” I whisper.
“He’s dead. But you already know that.” He flicks the pants again.
“How did he die?” I ask a little stronger.
“He had an aneurysm.”
My heart is racing as I watch him. He’s like a bomb about to explode.
“I’m so sorry, Henley.”
“Don’t be.” He flicks the pants again without even looking at me. “I just need to clean out this room, and then I can move on.”
“Come here.” I go to hug him.
He pulls away from me. “Don’t. The last thing in the world that I want is to hug it out. Go home, Juliet,” he snaps in frustration.
God, how do I deal with this?
“Okay, I will,” I whisper. “Can I help a little before I go?”
“No.” He flicks a T-shirt in the air. “I’ve got it.”
Maybe coming here wasn’t the right thing to do.
“I’ll clean the bathroom,” I offer.
“No, Juliet,” he yells. “How many times do I have to tell you? Go the fuck home.”
He’s angry.
My eyes well with tears for him. He is feeling so out of control in the situation. I don’t blame him. I’m feeling pretty out of control here myself.
“I’m not going anywhere, Henley,” I fire back. “If you think I’m leaving you alone right now, you are sadly mistaken.”
His furious eyes rise to meet mine. “Leave or I’m calling security.”
What the hell?
“Hen.”
“I mean it. I’m fine. I want to do this alone.” He flicks a T-shirt. “I’ll come over later when I’ve dealt with all of this.”