45
SAMANTHA
I WAS LYING in my bed staring at the ceiling when the first knock came at the door.
I didn’t get up. “Come in, it’s open,” I muttered.
Jeneva peeked her head around the corner. “I brought a bottle of wine,” she said, holding it up.
“Nice.”
“I had to go buy it,” she said, closing the door behind her. “Heaven forbid anyone actually be allowed into the wine cellar to drink what we already own.” She walked over and handed me a wineglass, then pulled the cork out while Pooter and Pugsly did their best to trip her.
I sat up and rubbed my forehead as she poured.
“I’m not letting this breathe,” I said.
“That kind of day?”
“That kind of year,” I mumbled. “I made snacks,” I said, nodding at the cheese and meat board.
She poured herself a glass and took the chair across from me. “I’m so glad you texted me to hang out. I feel like I haven’t even seen you. How was Minnesota?”
I scoffed but didn’t answer. I’d been back a week. I missed him, I left too early, he was still sick when I went home. I was sad and generally feeling sorry for myself and feeling even sorrier for him.
“Minnesota was fine,” I lied.
“When’s he coming to see you?”
“He’s not. At least not for a while.”
Now he had hospital bills to pay.
The bad news and bad luck just kept coming. I didn’t even bother to get up from the hits anymore, I just lay down and let them pelt me.
She looked at me with pity. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”
There was a second knock at the door. I got up to get it. This time it was Dad. I knew this because I asked him to come five minutes after the time I gave Jeneva. “Hey,” I said, letting him in.
He saw my sister and stopped in the doorway. “Oh, hello.”
She blinked at him. “Hi. Where’s Mom?”
“In the living room with the boys,” he said.
“Wine?” I asked.
Dad didn’t move from the door like he wasn’t sure if he should come in. “Sure. Is this a family meeting?”
“It is,” I said, handing him my glass. “Close the door and find a spot. Tristan will be here in a second.”
Jeneva eyed me. “Uh, he will?”
“He will,” I said.
I watched her stiffen. “Why didn’t you tell us you wanted to have a meeting?” she asked.
“Because I needed to make sure everyone came.”
“What is this about?” Dad asked.
I sat on the end of the bed and was thinking about what I was going to say to keep them from leaving the room, but I didn’t have to because Tristan showed up. He didn’t knock, as usual. My door flung open and he stood dramatically in the frame while he registered that everyone was here. Once he’d taken it all in, he crossed his arms. “Is this why Mom is watching anime with the two crotch goblins?”
“Oh God,” Jeneva said, getting up. “He’s already starting. I’m sorry, I can’t—”
“Sit. Please,” I said. Dad and Tristan were still standing. “You too.”
They looked at each other like they were contemplating leaving, but in the end curiosity must have won out. They sat.
I don’t think they would have shown up if it hadn’t been for the intervention-style way I’d chosen to do this, but I didn’t really have any choice. We didn’t share meals anymore, half the people in this house weren’t even speaking and honestly, I was beyond caring if they liked how I’d done this. It needed to be done.
“I called you all here today to tell you I got a job offer,” I said.
Jeneva pulled her face back. “Oh. Well, that’s good news, right?”
“It is.” I nodded. “It’s with Frito-Lay. It’s remote. It pays more than Murkle’s and the benefits are better. They’re going to let me make Frito dog paw jokes.”
“Congratulations,” Dad said.
“Thank you. If I take this job, I think we should put Mom in the memory care facility.”
The room instantly hushed.
“Right now I’m doing the bulk of her care,” I said. “We’d need to hire full-time help during the day. Dad says Mom’s still not sleeping at night and we’d need to hire full-time help for then too. I looked into it. Dad was right, it’s less expensive to put her in a home than it is to try and keep her here.”
Jeneva sat up. “But—”
“No,” I said, cutting her off. “Because whatever you’re about to say is going to be based on us, her care team, cooperating. And this family hasn’t been a team in a while.”
All three of them averted their eyes.
I looked at each of them. “Can I ask you all something? What do you want for Mom? In an ideal world, if money and time weren’t an obstacle, what would you want?”
Dad was staring at the floor.
“I’d want her to stay home with us,” Jeneva said quietly.
It was a long moment before Tristan replied. “Stay home,” he said.
Dad was nodding at the carpet. “Home.”
I nodded. “Okay,” I said. “So we all want the same thing. We’re capable of having what we want—if we work together. But none of you will pull your heads out of your asses long enough to get it done.”
I looked at my brother. “You know what sucks? You go to bed every night at two or three o’clock in the morning. Not once have you offered to be the one to stay up with Mom so Dad can sleep.”
He pressed his lips into a line. “Why would I—”
“Zip it,” I said. “I mean it. I love you. I appreciate you. I’m beyond thankful for the ticket to see Xavier. You can be incredibly generous and perceptive when you want to be, but this thing with Dad is not it. As someone who’s been taking care of Mom full-time for the last three months, the burnout is real. The isolation is real.” I looked him in the eye. “I understand Dad now so much more than I did that night after the funeral,” I said. “Loneliness in a relationship is the deepest loneliness of all. Dad shouldn’t have had to sneak out, he should have been able to come to us and say, ‘Hey, I need a life. I need a break. I’m a human being and I need human interaction, physical touch’—no matter what that looks like for him. Before it got to the point where he was so done, the nursing home was starting to look like the best option.”
I turned to my dad. “ You need to better communicate with us. I know you’re Airport Dad, and you want to do all the planning and get us there and carry all the baggage, but you can’t . We’re adults. We can handle everything you can handle. We should have known about Grandma. We should have known how close to a breaking point you were. And Jeneva…” I looked at my sister. “You need to let things go.” I held gazes with each of them. “We all want the same thing. We want to keep our promises to Mom. We want her here, with us. But she would never have wanted to be here if she knew it meant us sacrificing our mental health and happiness to make it happen, and she definitely wouldn’t have wanted it if it meant this family was going to lose each other over it.”
I let them sit in the silence for a long moment.
“I have a proposition,” I said. “I am willing to decline the job offer. I will continue to stay home with Mom so she can stay home with us—but on two conditions. The first one is that the three of you cover my portion of the rent and loan payment. I can take on freelance jobs to pay the rest of my bills. If I stay home, it’ll be a fraction of the cost of a facility or hiring a professional to be here. We get to keep our promise, at least for a while because I can’t guarantee that this is going to be a long-term fix. We very well might get to a point where it’s no longer the right thing for her or us to keep her here. I personally don’t think we’re there yet. I think we should take this one month at a time and see how it goes.”
I paused.
“The second condition is that you all consider if this is something that you’re actually capable of. Because if we’re not willing to work together, it’s not going to work at all. We should just put her where it’s easier on us and easier on her because watching you all bicker and ignore each other isn’t what she asked us for either. So you tell me what it’s going to be. I’m willing to do my part. The rest of it’s on you.”
I let the words linger in the air.
Jeneva sat there clutching her wineglass with both hands, staring at someplace past me on the wall. Dad’s eyes were fixed on the carpet. Tristan was hugging his arms around himself while Pooter purred and rubbed against his legs.
“I don’t like that you’re fucking around,” he said to Dad quietly.
It wasn’t an attack. He was trying to talk about it.
It was a long moment before Dad replied. “Sometimes the way we love someone changes with the seasons of our lives,” Dad said. “Sometimes love and commitment looks like caring for the person you’re married to by feeding them and putting on their pajamas and brushing their teeth. I will love your mother until the day I die. I will whisper her name with my last breath.” He choked on the words and I had to swallow a lump in my throat. “I’m not looking to replace her. I could never replace her. I just need something in my life that isn’t… this.” He raised his eyes to Tristan’s. “There is no bad guy here, Tristan,” he said, his voice thick. “I know it would make it easier if there was, but there’s not.”
My brother looked like he was going to cry. “I just always thought you two had true love,” he whispered.
“They do,” Jeneva said, her eyes tearing up.
“I believe that too,” I said quietly.
Dad put his face in his hands.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Jeneva said. “And, Tristan, I’m sorry to you too.”
Tristan nodded. “So am I.”
Dad sat back in his chair and wiped under his eyes. “I still don’t think I could have told you about Grandma. I wish I could have, but I couldn’t. She told me in confidence. But I should have convinced her to tell you herself. At the bare minimum, I should have done more to make her feel like she wouldn’t have been a burden if she was someone else we had to take care of—”
“That’s not your fault, Dad,” Jeneva said. “I shouldn’t have made you feel like it was. I’m just…” She trailed off. “I’m so angry. About everything.” Her chin quivered. “And it’s not even about you, it’s just everything .”
“Everything fucking sucks,” Tristan said.
I nodded. “It really does.”
“Finally, something we can agree on,” Dad said.
We all laughed a little. Then we slipped back into silence.
“Life is so hard,” I said quietly.
“I don’t even remember a time when it wasn’t,” Jeneva said.
Dad nodded absently. “Maybe we need to work on that. Make things easier on each other. Make happy memories again.”
Another thing we could agree on.
I sniffed and grabbed a tissue from the box on my nightstand. “Does anyone want pizza?”
“Oh God, yes,” Jeneva said.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s order some pizzas. Let’s go check on Mom. And then let’s talk through what this is going to look like.”
Dad leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “I love all of you. In case I haven’t said it lately. Or said it enough.”
I smiled. “We know, Dad. We haven’t forgotten.”