Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
For a moment, the weight of it all threatened to crush me. The endlessness of this endeavor: I’d find the bottles and empty them. I’d talk to all the nearby liquor vendors and tell them not to sell to her. She was on a strict budget. She didn’t drive. After hours of searching and cleaning, I’d leave the house empty of booze and refilled with food. She would go a few days, maybe a few weeks, without alcohol, and then we’d be right back here. I’d tried getting her help, but she would give up too quickly or refuse the help completely.
What she needed was to be put in some kind of assisted living or even have a nurse checking on her, but I couldn’t afford either option, so I was left with no choice but to make regular trips to check on her and dump out her booze.
Fuck this.
Enough of the pity party.
I shoved away from the sink, took off my suit jacket, and hung it on one of the kitchen chairs. After rolling up my sleeves, I submitted an Instacart order for some groceries to be delivered, and I set about cleaning her house. Carpets were vacuumed, surfaces were dusted, and floors were scrubbed. I opened windows to let in a cool spring breeze, hoping to push out some of the sour despair that clung to the house like black mold.
A peek into her bedroom revealed her asleep on the bed. I gathered up the clothes I could find tossed about the room and threw them into the wash. By the time I was moving them to the dryer, a delivery person had dropped the food on the front porch. I prepared a few meals that she needed only to heat in the microwave and wrote out some instructions for them.
It was after five when I was done, and she hadn’t stirred. I peeked into her room to make sure she was still breathing. It wouldn’t have been a surprise if she were pretending to sleep so she wouldn’t have to deal with me.
As I walked to my car, my phone vibrated, and I almost cried at the name on the screen.
“Hello, Dr. Willard,” I said, trying so hard not to clench my teeth as I leaned on the driver’s side door. The quiet neighborhood had grown a little busier as people rushed home at the end of a long day. Overhead, the sky was a bright blue and the late-spring leaves rustled in the mild wind, but the happy May day did nothing to remove the growing knot in my stomach.
“Hello, Byron. How have you been?”
Shit, Dr. Willard. It’s been a shit day, and I know you’re calling to make it worse.
But I didn’t say that, no matter how badly I wanted to. Because I knew he didn’t care. He wasn’t my doctor, and I wasn’t his problem. Ronald Graham Jr. was.
“I’m fine. How are you?”
“Not too bad. I’m sorry to bother you today, but I’m calling to let you know we need to increase Ronnie’s meds again. He had another violent episode with one of the orderlies.”
My muscles tensed, and a chill swept across my skin. “Shit! Was anyone hurt?”
“No, no. Just a chair. No people.”
I sagged, my head falling back to rest on the roof. “Thank God.”
“He’s sedated now. I’m going to make some changes that should help him stay calmer and keep him from getting agitated.”
“Thank you.”
“Byron…I know I don’t need to remind you that this isn’t the best situation for Ronnie. The facilities at the Holy Mother Hospital aren’t equipped to handle all Ronnie’s needs. I think you need to consider moving him to another facility that has more programs and can be more hands on with their care of him.”
The lump in my throat was making it impossible to swallow, but it was the only way I could squeeze out a few words. “I know, Dr. Willard. I appreciate you taking the time to call me.”
There was nothing to say after that. I knew Ronnie needed to be moved to another hospital that could help him, but the other option was nearly double the cost of his current location and I’d yet to find a way to pay for it. Between paying to support Mom and Ronnie, there was nothing left of my paycheck at the end of the day. I needed more money, and there was none to be had.
With a grunt, I shoved off the car and climbed inside. I couldn’t stay in this downward spiral of frustration and hopelessness. It would leave me curled up in the fetal position in the corner somewhere, and that wouldn’t solve a damn one of my problems. The one thing that made sense was going back to work. At least there, I could be useful.