Growing Up Shaddix (Jimmy/Jacoby)

Ten

Great; Jimmy seems to be bothering the neighbors now. I can see him walking back toward the house, and I hope he did cause any trouble. He’s had a hard time accepting the new neighbors, though it was through no fault of their own. They are actually quite nice people and I get on with them quite well, but Jimmy has had a very hard time.

I met him halfway on the gravel determined to get the story out of him.

“The fuck did you do?” I growled at him, grabbing his arm. “I saw you running up the gravel and I hope like hell you didn’t go running into their house. That’s not Hank’s house anymore, Jimmy, and I won’t have you scaring our neighbors with your behavior.”

He actually looked hurt when I said that and I barely suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. I know he’s had a hard time since Hank’s passing, but he’s got to be an adult about this. Oh and there he goes, starting to cry. He flipped me off and ran for the house, making me scream right there in the middle of the gravel. I shook my head and followed, though I wasn’t going to say boo to him until he’d grown up a bit.

“What’s up with dad?” Eliza asked, as I walked back inside. She was standing at the toaster, and I realized that the mornings drama had kept us from making breakfast for the kids.

“Nothing.”

I stomped down the hall and practically broke Jimmy’s office door in my attempt to open it. He was sitting at his desk, typing frantically; it was apparently some kind of email and I turned to leave. He might as well be left alone, because I don’t want to deal with him right now. If you have known me for even a short length of time, you know how I am: when he’s being a baby, I back off, because I’m not dealing with it. Those of you new to our relationship might find that harsh, but it’s not; when he’s acting like this, he’s anything but rational. I can’t deal with him when he’s being irrational and that’s all I’ll get out of him right now.

“Dad?”

I turned to see Eliza standing in the doorway, working through a piece of peanut butter toast. This kid will eat peanut butter straight out of the jar, I swear. I waited for her to speak, figuring I didn’t really need to verbally acknowledge her.

“Shouldn’t you be checking on dad? I mean, after last night and all, you know? I have to work at noon, so I’m out of here.”

“What time is it?” I asked. She usually leaves 20 minutes early, just in case she runs into traffic on the county road.

“It’s 1140 dad,” she called up the stairs, her footsteps disappearing as she moved toward the back door. “It’s been a long morning.”

I couldn’t disagree with that, as I went downstairs to make toast for myself. I thought about offering Jimmy food, but figured he was probably still in his mood. I was surprised, then to find him sitting at the table, eating a bowl of cereal. Priscilla smiled at me, then looked at her dad and sighed. I hope she studies psychology, because once she gets the concept of what’s wrong with her dad, she’ll be a great help. I overheard their talk upstairs and I think she’s starting to grasp things.

“I’ll talk to him,” she promised, as I put two slices of bread in. I got the butter and jelly, then made a bowl of cereal. We don’t really have set eating times around here, but I don’t like having breakfast so late. But all at once I’m starving and I don’t want dinner yet. “Just let me deal with it.”

I nodded, making my toast when it popped up and then retreating to my office. I needed some down time and this was my big chance. I looked at the calendar in the bedroom and Jimmy’s got a doctor’s appointment at two for his lungs. I’m going to call Dr. Mangus and get him in there. He’s always got an emergency spot open for Jimmy, because he knows the man goes off on a moment’s notice.

With a sigh, I dialed the doctor’s office and hoped he wouldn’t maim my husband when we got there.

***

“Whether you’re speaking to me or not, you have an appointment with Dr Sullivan in half an hour, so we need to get going,” I told my husband after dinner. Well, in so much as you can call it dinner, I guess. I had a frozen pizza and Jimmy took a turkey sandwich to his office. “Come on.”

He followed me sullenly, grabbing his keys and his med list. He’s been keeping track of how he’s feeling this summer (rough) and it’s time to see if the doctor needs to tweak his meds. I called to Priscilla that we were leaving and I assume the grunt that emanated from the living room meant she got the message.

“You need to quit sulking,” I told him, as he started the drive into Omaha. Missouri Valley was closer and had a satellite clinic, but it’s just as easy to go into Omaha. “I know you’re upset about things, but at some point, you need to grow up and move on. I know that losing Hank was equivalent to losing your real dad but he wouldn’t want you to sulk like this.”

I know Jimmy heard me and the look on his face, with which I am oh-so familiar, means he agrees. But he’s in a mood and when he’s like this, he’s impossible to deal with. I’ll keep the second appointment a secret until we’re in the waiting room, because if I tell him now, I won’t get to either appointment.

“Well, if you’re going to sulk all this time, I’m turning on some music,” I told him, and promptly cranked the radio to an ear-splitting volume. Jimmy frowned and turned it down somewhat, but I was a little happier; I got a response out of him, at least. “If you want to talk, just turn it down.”

Not surprisingly, the entire drive into Omaha was spent with me singing to the radio and Jimmy sulking. I hope he cheers up for the doctor, at least. He’s going to be run through a gamut of breathing tests and he can’t exactly sulk through those. I mean, he’s got to follow lots breathing instructions and the staff have known him for so long, he’ll end up telling them what’s wrong right away.

“Well, I’ll wait in the lobby like usual,” I told him, once we’d arrived at the clinic. He’s been going here since we got married and his first asthma attack hit, shortly after we returned from our honeymoon. He’s the only person in his family with asthma, though somehow, he passed it along to the girls. “Good luck.”

He got checked in and was called back soon after. I settled in with a book, considering this can take up to an hour sometimes. The process is a little tedious and he’s had mild attacks before brought on by some of the breathing tests. I don’t want that to happen now, of course, but I am prepared for it. Thankfully, none have been serious and all can be treated right here in the clinic.

“How are you doing, Coby?”

I looked up from my book and smiled at a retired colleague, Mark Wallerford. It seemed retirement suited him, though his hair was greyer. He’d only been retired six months, but he was very much missed around the ER.

“I’m good, how are you doing?”

“I’m good. Joyce is seeing the doctor today for a checkup. She had a horrible bout of pneumonia a few months ago and her lungs never quite recovered. How’s Jimmy?”

“So far, so good. This summer has been rough on him, of course, with so much humidity and so many hot days. He’s having a checkup as well, and might be getting his meds tweaked a bit. His regiment was working fine until we got back from California, so we’ll see what the doctor has to say.”

Mark nodded, settling into a chair next to me. “He’s had a terrible time with his asthma the last couple of years; what’s going on?”

“No one knows,” I said, with a shrug. “He had it under control for a long time and then all at once, that control was gone. The asthma developed because he both snorted and smoked crack-cocaine, but why he’s lost the control he had is beyond everyone.”

“Hopefully he’ll get some answers today,” Mark said, as Joyce came out. She looked better than she had the last time I saw her and I got up to hug her. “How did it go?”

“Just fine. The doctor doesn’t know what took so long, but everything has cleared. My lung tests were good today, but he wants to keep me on the inhaler another month; we’ll reevaluate at that time.”

“Sounds good. Good luck to Jimmy,” Mark told me, and I waved at them as they left. I just hope we get good news, like it’s just a medication thing. I have a suspicion, but I haven’t said anything yet because it will upset him. He regrets everything he did before he got clean for the last time and if I’m right, he’s not going to take the news well at all.

***

“Coby? Can you come back a moment? We need to have a conference,” a voice said, and I startled. My book had fallen aside and I stretched, yawning.

“Sorry. What?” I asked, embarrassed that I’d fallen asleep.

“No worries,” Dr. Sullivan (no relation) said, smiling. She’s only been Jimmy’s doctor a couple of years, but she does a great job. Dr. Callahan retired two years ago and I was nervous about getting a new doctor. But so far, so good. “It’s taken longer than usual, and a nap sounds good right about. Come on back, we need to have a conference.”

I nodded, trying to tell myself that nothing was wrong and I was going to learn about his new medications. After all, outside of some bad days, he’s been doing pretty well of late. I followed the doctor down to her office and noted the distressed on Jimmy’s face. Once I’d sat down, I took Jimmy’s hand and waited for the doctor to speak.

“Well, I have the results of Jimmy’s tests. As usual, he stands out because his symptoms are not by the book. But his PFT results were low and when I ran him through some simple physical activities, he became winded quickly. We know that the weather is a trigger, so if this had happened outside, I’d have chalked it up to weather. But when it happens in a climate controlled room, I become concerned. I did a couple of additional tests and I have the answer.” I nodded, hoping it wasn’t dire news. “So, now that I’ve done the testing, I can say with certainty that Jimmy’s asthma has progressed to COPD.”

I gulped, because COPD is serious. It’s a disease of the lungs seen often in smokers, which Jimmy used to be. He smoked regular cigarettes, crack-cocaine, just about anything a person can light and inhale. I heard a shuddering breath come from Jimmy and wondered what the next step was.

“Right now, he’s doing fine. This disease progresses slowly over time, so he’s got a long time before we have to worry about drastic measures. For now, I’m going to put him on a 24 hour bronchodilator, which will keep his symptoms under control. I’ll keep him on the asthma pill he’s already on, and recommend a newer rescue breather. I’ve also prescribed a newer, slightly stronger medication for his nebulizer. When winter rolls around, he’s going to need a flu and pneumonia shot, because those two are major triggers for a flare up. Also, be sure to take care if you get a cold, okay? That can affect your breathing as well.”

“Will I have to have oxygen every day?” he asked, and I know he’s scared; I’m scared, too, trust me.

“Not right away. That should be several years down the line, unless you’re one of the rare cases that progresses quickly. Since you don’t have the typical symptoms, it’s hard to say.”

“What caused this?” I asked, although I thought I knew the answer already.

The doctor sighed and I hoped she wasn’t afraid of hurting feelings; Jimmy knows what he did all those years ago.

“Given your history of smoking and drug abuse, it’s fair to say that cocaine is the problem. You’re nasal septum collapsed years ago and you had that repaired; your chart indicates that you had that surgery two years after your last rehab stint. The problem with abuse of cocaine and other drugs is that some effects don’t show up for years. In your case, the asthma started quickly once you were clean, but the COPD came later. Your chart indicates and you’ve told me, that you smoked cigarettes and crack, so this is not a surprise. The difference here is that you take responsibility for these problems and admit what you did. Now, we just need to keep you healthy.”

I put an arm around Jimmy’s shoulders, attempting to comfort him. We’ve known for years that some effects of his drug abuse wouldn’t show up for years and we are proved right at every turn, it seems. I knew there was nothing I could do for him except make sure we follow the new regime. With luck, things won’t worsen for several years. But knowing our luck, things will get worse quickly.

Eleven

COPD…great. I am a walking billboard for why drugs are bad. I really hope my kids are learning from me, because I don’t want to see them go through this shit as well. I know that these new meds will help me get things back under control, but that doesn’t make me feel any better. I have fucked my life over in so many ways I can’t begin to tell you.

“I can’t believe this,” I muttered as I walked out to my truck. I know I’ve felt like crap this summer, but it’s been hotter and more humid than usual, so I figured it was the weather. I never guessed for one moment that I’d progressed beyond asthma. “I fucked myself over so much and didn’t even know it.”

Jacoby was quiet, though he hasn’t shown any anger at me. If nothing else, he seems supportive, as he always has when something has come back to bite me. But I do wonder if his patience is wearing thin. I mean, he’s the one who fell in love and chose to marry me, so he gets to deal with the fall out of my past addictions. But I wonder sometimes if he regrets marrying me, I really do.

“Jack, do you ever regret—“

“Hell no. I know what I signed on for when I said ‘I do’ and I have never and will never regret that. Yes there are tough times in our relationship and stuff, but I’d never regret marrying you. We’ll get through this just like we’ve gotten through everything else that’s been thrown our way.”

That does make me feel better, I admit. I’m always afraid he’s going to leave me, and I’ve been told for years that abandonment issues are common for people like me. I watched him drive around the clinic building, wondering just where he was going. We should be heading home to get my meds, since I have to start them tomorrow.

“Why are we stopping outside Dr. Magnus’s office?” I asked suspiciously. My husband put the truck in park and I sighed. “Fine.”

I didn’t say another word as I got out of the truck, the humidity stifling as I walked up to the front door. The lobby here is bright and cheerful, as if that will make those of us here for services feel better. In reality, it’s the office of a doctor who treats patients with mental health issues that don’t quite need a psychiatrist or don’t need or want to see their therapist. He’s just here for the medical side of things, to do things the other people can’t. With a sigh, I walked up to the receptionist desk, nodded to Sarah and signed in. Hopefully I’m not in too much trouble, I thought as I settled into a chair to wait.

***

Dr. Magnus is an average height man with dark hair and grey eyes. He’s about 35 years old, but he seems to know his stuff. He took over from Dr. Mathias a couple of years ago, and we get on well. The problem is that he’s got a much shorter bounty of patience than Dr. Mathias, and therefore, I get into more trouble with him more often.

“Good afternoon, Jimmy. How did your visit with Dr. Sullivan go?” the doctor asked, settling behind his desk. I don’t often see doctors in their actual offices, but he’s an exception. I rarely see him in an exam room.

“Not good. I have turned the page into COPD, I guess. We’ve got some new medications to use and I’m to go back in a month for a follow-up with her. It’s quite a lot to take in right now.”

He nodded, his tan complexion belying the hours he no doubt spent on call and in the hospital. “Well, Jacoby called me in a right panic this morning, and I told him I’d give you my emergency hour. So, I understand you got drunk the other day?”

I nodded, hanging my head in shame. I’m not proud of what I did, okay?

“Why?”

That’s a fucking loaded question, doctor. “I guess I just got overwhelmed. I mean, we lost Hank and Jeanette so close together, and my health problems have been bothering me. We’re busy trying to get ready for school and I’m still working, even though it’s been a challenge for not being able to breathe. I just…I miss everyone so much, and the month in California really drove that point home to me. I tried not to do it, but I did and I regret it I truly do.”

He sighed. I hate it when he sighs. “I’m disappointed, Jimmy. 23 years of sobriety and now you struggle? I know you’ve struggled before, but you have always been stronger than the bottle. Now, once you have let the bottle get to you, it’s only a matter of time before you fall back into your old habits. I hope that doesn’t happen, but it might. So, to prevent this, you’re under observation for the next 21 days. I say 21 days because it is said to take 21 days to make something a habit. If you can stay sober for 21 days, I will take you off observation. I know this is going to be hard, as you and Jacoby don’t always work the same days. I know that you don’t always have the same days off. I don’t want your kids involved, so I need a solution from you both.”

I sighed; I hate being on observation. I get next to no privacy, my office is searched twice a day and I’m basically under house arrest. Even my co-workers have to watch me and that’s embarrassing. I have new co-workers these days, you know, and they don’t know me very well. Many of our most trusted co-workers are retiring at an alarming rate, and I don’t want to be watched by strangers.

“Well, I can talk to Sean and see if he can do some schedule tweaking,” Jacoby offered, as I racked my brain for a solution. “He’s pretty open when stuff happens with Jimmy. Otherwise, we’ll just have to talk to friends and see if they can be there when I can’t.”

“Jimmy?”

“Works for me,” I muttered, still embarrassed. I know I should be offering ideas, but I don’t have any. Observation hasn’t happened in over 10 years and I had hoped to keep it that way. “It’s going to be embarrassing no matter what we do.”

The doctor sighed again and I resisted the urge to run. “Very well. Jacoby will speak with Sean, as will I, and you two can work out a schedule from there. I’m going to trust you, Jimmy; do not disappoint me again.”

I nodded, as I stood with my husband, about to start the most hellish 21 days of my life so far. You have no idea how much this is going to suck.

***

“Dad, why is daddy searching your office?” Eliza asked, as she walked in from work. I was sitting at the table with Priscilla, doodling on a piece of paper. “Did he misplace something again?”

I sighed, adding a bit of shading to the picture I was drawing. Ophelia is lying on the table, and I have a feeling tonight is going to be her last. I glanced up at Eliza, frowned, and returned to my picture, gently stroking my cat. Her breathing was unsteady and I blinked back tears; I’m not ready to lose another pet.

“Well, okay, I’ll go ask him then,” she muttered, placing her purse down on the kitchen stool. I ignored her and kept shading until I was happy with the picture. “Never mind I’ve decided about college.”

I was interested, of course, but not right now. Instead, I put my drawing utensils aside and picked up Ophelia, instructing Priscilla to disinfect the table. It’s not really sanitary to have the cats up there, but we usually can’t keep them down.

“Are you done now?” I asked, standing outside my office. Anything that Jacoby feels I might use to hurt myself was in a box, and I was glad to see that he seemed to be trusting me: he only took a couple of things. “I’d like to spend time with Ophelia before she passes today.”

He nodded, gesturing to me to enter the office. It didn’t look too bad, and he’d put everything back where he’d found it.

“Don’t forget the girls need a chance to say goodbye as well,” he reminded me, closing the door.

Since I wanted maximum time with her, I called the girls and Jacoby in and let them have their time with her. Priscilla was especially upset, as Ophelia had become ‘her cat’ over the last several years. Ophelia was protective of Cilla as an infant and we always knew when something was wrong based on the cat’s behavior toward the baby.

When we were alone, I knew it was time. I put her on her favorite blanket, over by the window perch I had for her and waited. It only took about five minutes, as I was stroking her and she was gone. I waited a bit, taking my time with her, before I called to Jacoby. I guess now this observation I’m on will be really be a challenge; after we lost Ma and Pa, I latched onto Ophelia for comfort. I mean, I latched onto Hamlet, too, but Ophelia was a comforting cat, if that makes any sense. Hamlet is a bit stand-offish and doesn’t like to be cuddled and stuff. Ophelia always sensed when I was upset and would react accordingly.

“I’ll go make her plot,” he said, walking quietly outside. I carried her out in her blanket, waiting inside with the girls. Both were upset, which is understandable, and were quietly talking to and stroking Ophelia. She was so much more than a cat to us, you know? Jacoby looked back toward us five minutes later and gestured us outside. “I’m ready. I’ll call Joyce for a stone.”

Mark’s wife Joyce makes markers for pet graves as a side job. Now that she’s feeling better, hopefully she’ll feel up to making one for us. The ones she’s made for Map and Pa, as well as Eliza’s guinea Pig Arthur (who only lived two years…not sure what happened there), are beautiful.

“Hopefully she’s at peace now,” Priscilla said, wiping her eyes. I nodded, as I laid Ophelia down in her final resting spot, gently covering her with the blanket. Hamlet wandered over (he’d followed us outside, no doubt sensing what had happened) and laid down on his sister. We gave him his time, knowing that animals needed time to grieve as well. He gently licked her, nipped at her ear, and pawed at her face, but she didn’t move. I was surprised when he let out of a low growl and then a long, sad mewl. “I’ve never heard him do that before.”

“He’s mourning his sister,” I told her, watching as he nuzzled her, licked her once more, then stood up and came to stand with us. I picked him up, surprised when he nuzzled me. “It’s okay, buddy. It was her time.”

Jacoby covered Ophelia with the dirt, smoothing the top a bit, and then he stood with us. Hamlet continued his cries for a few more minutes before we all went back inside. The heat is once again oppressive today and breathing was becoming more difficult. I placed Hamlet down on the floor once we were inside and headed for my office to relax, surprised when he followed.

“What’s up bud?” I asked, closing the door behind me. He hopped into his sister’s perch, closed his eyes and fell asleep. “Let’s hope you wake up.”

***

As it was, Hamlet and I ended up napping together. I was tired after an exhausting day, and I think I needed the sleep. I have to work tomorrow and while I love my job, I’m not looking forward to going tomorrow. Sean will have briefed everyone already on watching me and what to do, since some of them are new to this. Thankfully, the folks working tomorrow are people I know and trust: Hollister, Tony, Sean, Racheal the flier, Racheal on dispatch, Jacoby, Robin (even if she is a loud mouth), and a few others.

“Jim? Time for supper,” Jacoby called, knocking on my door. “I made spaghetti.”

“Be right out.”

I sat up, carefully helping Hamlet to the floor; his legs are stiffer these days and he moves more slowly. I ignored Ophelia’s perch, instead heading right for the door and out to the kitchen. Jacoby makes some amazing spaghetti and I couldn’t wait to eat. I was pleased that the entire family could eat together, as it’s Eliza’s evening off as well.

“How was work?” I asked, her, once we’d all been served our food.

“It was work. We had the regulars and that was about it. It sounds like Molly’s going to be a great-grandma, by the way; her granddaughter Lorena is pregnant.”

I paused with my fork halfway to my mouth, pondering this for a second. Was Micheal’s daughter hold enough to have a baby?

“Micheal?” I asked, and Eliza nodded, as I finished my bite of food. “Isn’t Lorena like, 15?” I clarified and Eliza nodded.

“Well, she just turned 16 but yeah. I guess she’s in some hot water, too. Her folks didn’t know she had a boyfriend and he’s only 16 as well. They’d met him a few times, but only when he’d come over and do homework. At her house, they were never out of the living room or kitchen and were never alone. Same thing at his house, so we’re not sure where they got it on, but—“

“We don’t need the details, honey,” Jacoby said, shaking his head. “So glad we don’t have to deal with that.”

Same here; I don’t want to think of going through that ever. We haven’t made sex a bad thing or taboo, but we have pointed out that doing it at their age is a poor choice and they are responsible for the consequences. I smiled at my girls at the conversation quieted a moment, knowing I had to tell them about my appointment. I just didn’t want to pelt them with bad news, because it seems that’s all our family ever gets is bad news. Nonetheless, I had to tell them and I knew they weren’t going to be happy.

Twelve


“How are you going to tell them?” I asked my husband, as he paced his office. We’d sent the girls into Mondamin to get some ice cream, but as soon as they got home, we had to tell them what was going on.

“I guess I’ll just be straight forward,” Jimmy said with a sigh. He ran a hand over his face and looked out the window. “They’re home.”

I nodded, standing; it was time to tell them the truth about their dad’s health. He isn’t going to die or anything, but as the years go by, his breathing could become much more difficult. This might mean more time in the hospital, more doctor visits and eventually oxygen daily. Basically, there are a lot of unknowns, but the girls needed to know what was going on anyway.

“Dad! We’re home!” Eliza called and we both met them in the kitchen. “I’ll make the sundaes quick.”

When we all had our ice cream in front of us, we sat around in an uncomfortable silence until we’d finished eating. Finally, Jimmy cleared his throat and sat back, looking at the girls. They knew something was up, I’m sure, but I waited for my husband to make his move.

“Earlier, Eliza, you asked why Coby was searching in my office; I ignored you at the time and I apologize.” She nodded and I wondered if they were going to get the full story. “I had an appointment with Dr. Sullivan and Dr. Magnus today. I received bad news at Dr. Sullivan’s office: my asthma has developed into COPD, which is a very serious breathing disease. Right now, you won’t notice many changes in me, but over time, it will become harder for me to breathe and do things. I have some new medications that are designed to help slow progression of the disease; so hopefully, I’ll be fine for a while.”

I watched the girls for their reactions and it was clear that they were scared. I knew they had questions, but they weren’t sure how to ask them.

“So…are you going to die?” Eliza asked, her voice trembling a bit.

Jimmy shook his head, trying to smile at her. “No. I have a very mild forum of the disease and it was caught early, so I got lucky there. With the new medications that have been developed over the years, I can expect to live many more years without major problems.”

She nodded, but I wondered if she was convinced yet. “So, it’s just that you’re going to have some breathing problems that are worse than usual then?” she clarified and we both nodded, which seemed to make her relax. “So what’s the other bad news?”

The problem with having meetings like this at our house is that they always signal bad news. Jimmy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and I waited. I’d tell them if he didn’t, and he knew that.

“Well, I made a mistake, guys. I went out and drank myself into a stupor one night, trying to drink away my emotions and problems. I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway and I regret that. Dr. Magnus has therefore decided that I should be under observation for 21 days. This has happened plenty in the past, but once I got through the last rehab stint, I did much better. The doctor is afraid that I will relapse into alcoholism again, and I agree that that’s a possibility. Therefore, I agreed to be under observation. The reason your dad was searching my office was to make sure I didn’t have anything in my office that I’m not allowed. No drugs or alcohol, etc., and he has to take anything I might harm myself with. The chances of that happening are small, but we have to take all the precautions we can.”

The girls nodded again, but they seemed a bit uncertain. “You guys don’t have to do anything. Your dad and I have this under control and it’s not fair to make you guys babysit him. I’ve worked out a schedule so that he’s never alone, and I promise it won’t be intrusive to you guys, okay?”

“Okay. But what happens if you get caught with something in these 21 days?” Priscilla asked and I think, for once, she gets it. Finally, she seems to understand that her dad has problems.

“That will be determined if it happens. But I could just have to re-enter rehab for a very short time, I could go to jail, it just depends on the offence. Hopefully, I won’t have any problems, but this is the most effective way to solve the potential problem the other night might’ve started.”

There was a somewhat awkward silence before Eliza collected our bowls and put them in the dishwasher. She hugged her dad and told him that she understood what was going on and would do her best to help. I hadn’t expected that, but who am I to complain? It was Priscilla that worried me; she’s never taken Jimmy’s mental illness or addiction seriously.

“Well, good luck,” Priscilla said, with a shrug. She stood up, turning to open the fridge, when I told her to sit down. “What?”

“Look. I’ve told you time and again how serious this is, okay? You don’t seem to understand what’s going on here.”

She looked at me and I honestly couldn’t quite place her expression. We’d fought before, but I didn’t think I’d have a fight on my hands this time.

“I understand plenty, dad,” she snarled, gesturing to Jimmy. “I understand that my father has a serious lung disease. I understand that he could die. I also understand that you think he has some sort of horrific mental illness! Well newsflash! He’s only as mentally ill as you make him! Sure he’s got depression or something. I’m sure he was addicted to drugs or whatever at some point. I get that! I also get that you enable him, dad! If you wouldn’t make him crazy he wouldn’t be like this. I’m sure the OCD break downs were real enough, but you probably caused them! It’s no wonder he’s depressed!”

I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. I got to my feet, my face hot with anger. “Is that how you really feel, Priscilla June Shaddix? Because I will have you know how wrong you are! Your father has been diagnosed with depression, OCD, and PTSD since the day I met him! I watched him struggle through years of rehab and drug addiction and alcoholism before he finally got clean! I love your father and if you think I’ve done anything to cause his problems, you have another thing coming young lady! I don’t ever want to hear those words out of your mouth again! You have a lot of learning to do and I expect you to start accepting the truth around here!”

There was a moment of tense silence before she turned on her heel to leave the room. I watched her go, taking a deep breath, waiting for Jimmy to respond to the fight.

“Oh hell,” he muttered, as her bedroom door slammed, shaking the entire house. She’s such a typical stubborn, hard headed teenager!

“I’ve had it with her!” I shouted, pounding the table. Jimmy started rubbing my hand but I took it back. “I will not be calmed! If she can’t understand that what you have is real then she’s going to get a strong lesson these next 21 days. She’s going to help observe you and that’s all there is to it!”

I heard someone coming downstairs and my jaw dropped when Priscilla came down with her suitcase.

“I hate you!” she shouted, charging through the kitchen. I reached out and grabbed her, causing her to gasp. “Hands off! I’m leaving and I’m never coming back! You don’t give a shit about me, dad! It’s all Jimmy! Jimmy! Jimmy! Jimmy! I’m fucking sick and tired of it, dad! Now unhand me!”

In shock, I let her go, watching as she stormed outside. I ran after her, leaving Jimmy shocked at the table. As I reached the driveway, she got into a car bearing one of her friends and it drove away, leaving me standing there, eating the dust of its departure.

***

“Are you sure she won’t speak to me?” I asked for the third time. Marg Madison, Randi’s mother, sighed.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve tried to talk to her, Jacoby, but she just won’t hear it. Apparently, whatever you two shouted at each other has really gotten to her. She’s safe here, Coby, and I will keep trying to get her to talk, okay? I promise to call you as soon as she’ll talk to me. But for now, give her a couple of days to cool off.”

I sighed, thanking Marg for taking my daughter in. “I’ll wait for you to call. Just tell her that I’m sorry, please?”

“I’ll pass it on. Good luck, Coby.”

I hung up, hanging my head. I’d used up my entire lunch break calling Marg, so I inhaled a few bites of pizza on my way back to the ER. Priscilla had refused to answer my calls and texts, so I resorted to calling her friend’s mother. That wasn’t getting me anywhere either. Priscilla was mad at me and while I probably deserve it, she deserved to hear what I had to say.

“I give up,” I muttered, as the elevator opened into the dark corridor leading to the ER.

I trudged back into my work area, heading for Jimmy’s office. He still works Monday through Friday 9-5 and flies most of those days. He wasn’t very happy with me, either, but in some ways, I think he understood. He knows the struggle we’ve had with Priscilla and I think he knows that the fight was justified in a way.

“Coby, give it up. She’ll come around eventually,” Jimmy advised, as I entered his office. He was working on the flight schedule but turned to me when I entered. “You pissed her off to the point of running away, honey. While I know we’ve had problems with her and it had to be dealt with, this might not have been the way.”

“I know that!” I shouted, pounding his desk. “I know that. But I was mad.”

He nodded. “I know you were mad. But you should’ve taken some time to calm down before you confronted her. For now, there’s nothing to be done with it and you have to sit back and wait for her to come around.”

That was going to be easier said than done. Trust me.

“You know how she holds grudges, Jimmy,” I reminded him, sinking into the extra chair in his room. “This is our kid; she holds grudges like her father.”

I gave him a pointed look, which caused him to shrink back from me a bit. He knew I was right, of course, because he’s a champion grudge holder himself. He finally shook his head and put his hands up in the air.

“I can’t help you then, Jack,” he told me, causing me to sigh again. “I really can’t. If you want to fight this battle and keep losing go for it; otherwise, give her time, the same as you do for me, and let her come around. I know it’s hard and I know it sucks, but it’s all you can do.”

I realized at some point that he was right, but I wanted to keep fighting. After all, we both said some hurtful things to each other and I don’t think either of us meant them. Well, Priscilla might have, but I didn’t really. I was just angry and I shouted at her accordingly.

“Fine. I’ll wait her out, Jim. But it’s not going to be easy.”

“I never said it would be. At least she’s not under our roof and mad at you; I don’t usually leave when I get mad.”

I had to laugh a bit at that because he was right once again. There were times I’d find him up at Hank and Eleanor’s or even as far as Tony’s or Hollister’s but usually, he retreated to his office and ignored me for a while.

“I just wish I could take back what I said that night,” I lamented as my pager went off. Jimmy’s had gone off as well and we scrambled to our respective areas.

“You can’t. But you can apologize when she lets you,” he said, and disappeared down the corridor, heading for the heli-pad.

Thirteen

After an eventful afternoon at work, I gratefully clocked out at five and climbed into my truck. I was tired after the last call, which had involved two small children. Those calls are always the hardest and I hate them. The kids will be okay, but their mother was killed in the accident and their dad has a less than 50% chance of surviving.

I was going to head straight home, but instead took a series of familiar turns and finally ended up just outside of Randi’s house. If Priscilla won’t talk to Jacoby, maybe she’ll talk to me. It was worth a try, at least, as far as I was concerned.

“Is Priscilla here?” I asked, once I’d rung the bell and Marg had answered.

Marg smiled, shaking her head. “No, and she wouldn’t talk to you if she was. She’s mad at both of you, even if only Jacoby ran his mouth off at her. She’s hurt, Jimmy. I know that no one meant the things that were said but it can’t be taken back. She does feel as if everything revolves around you, even if she won’t admit it. I know that’s not the case, but she doesn’t see that. I think, deep down inside, she knows that your mental illnesses are real, but it all factors into her feeling that she doesn’t get enough of your attention.”

I blinked. “She really feels that way? We have never made the kids feel that way Marg, never! My health is important, of course, but we always make equal time for the kids. After all, the kids have some health problems, too, and we pay them plenty of attention. We do things together as a family and we certainly never put one of us before the girls. How does she get the idea that the world revolves around me?”

“She’s 14 Jimmy, and most teenagers feel that way.”

I sighed, knowing that she was right, after all. Weren’t most of us like this at that age? It still bothered me, though and I wanted to talk to my daughter. I suppose I have to accept that she isn’t speaking to either of us, but it still hurts.

“I suppose. Well, thanks for letting her stay; we weren’t planning on her running out like this. I do wonder, though…how did you guys get to the farm so fast?”

“Randi had left something there the day before and Priscilla told her to come pick it up, so we were on our way. Randi never did get her book, but that’s okay. I will see to it that she gives you a call as soon as she’s calm, Jim.”

“I appreciate it, Marg. Have a nice evening.”

I walked back to my truck, feeling defeated. I know that Priscilla is denied things in life because she lives with me. She can’t have a dog, she has to take precautions visiting friends who have dogs, etc. I know it sucks, but that’s life. I could die if she’s around a dog for very long and I think the incident in California drove that home. A visit like today, I was lucky; the dog dander didn’t bother me, even though it’s all over Marg. I never stepped in the home either, though, and the dog spends a lot of time outside. That all works in my favor, of course, but this extended stay is going to be a problem, I think.

When I got home, Hamlet was hungry so I hurried to feed him and then settled down to make supper. I have no idea what to make, and Eliza’s at work, so it’s just the two of us. Molly’s has started having a carry out night and I think I’m going to do that.

“Molly’s bar, this is Eliza, how can I help you?”

“You’re very formal on the phone,” I told her and heard her laugh. “Usually it’s just ‘hey dad’.”

“We don’t have caller i.d. at the bar,” she retorted, causing me to laugh. “What do you need?”

“What’s the carry out special tonight?”

“Double cheese burger, large fry, and a drink for $5.99.”

“Can you put in an order for two of them? I’ll have your dad pick it up after work. He’s off at six, so don’t make them until about 1815.”

“Make it three? I’m off at six and I’ll just bring them home with me.”

“You got a deal.”

She laughed again and told me she’d be home in about an hour. I texted Jacoby with the supper plan and got an affirmative and then settled in to relax. I needed time to ponder what was going on with Priscilla, because the situation was bothering me greatly. I realize that hurtful things were said but there’s got to be something that can be done about it.

The ringing of my phone brought me out of my thoughts and I checked the caller i.d., smiling when I saw my sister Kelly. We’ve always been close and perhaps I can bend her ear about this.

“Hey Kel, what’s up?”

“Nothing much. Priscilla called; what the hell is going on up there?”

That’s my eldest sister: always right to the point. She’s been a psych nurse since she was 20 years old and 30 years later, she’s tough as nails. She’s been my confident for years and has grown close to our youngest over the years.

“She and Jack had a fight and said some hateful things. I don’t know exactly what’s going on, to be fair. We sat the girls down and explained about my two doctor appointments and then Priscilla went off her rocker.”

“Doctor appointments?”

I sighed, realizing now that we kind of forgot to call home with the bad news. “Yeah. Are you at mom and dad’s?”

“I am, but Katie’s two kids are within hearing distance. Mom has everyone over for the evening. Are they old enough to understand?”

“They’re teenagers, they’ll be okay.”

I could tell she’d clicked the speaker phone on and told me to go ahead. I don’t want to upset mom and thought about asking for privacy with just my sister, but forged ahead.

“Uhm, hi guys,” I started, hearing a chorus of greetings back to me. “Well, I apologize for my tardiness here; it’s been busy and we’ve had some bad news recently that’s taken some sinking in.”

“What’s going on Jim?” dad asked, and I knew he could read my emotions.

“Well, I saw Dr. Sullivan a couple of days ago. My recent breathing problems aren’t asthma related; I have developed COPD. The doctor says it’s a combination of the drugs I used to smoke, previous smoking, and my asthma getting worse.”

There was a pause and I wondered if we’d lost the connection. Usually, when I delivered bad news, there’s some sort of immediate reaction, but so far, nothing.

“COPD…how bad?” mom asked her voice hushed. We’d always been close and since we’d reunited, we’d gotten even closer.

“Right now, fairly mild. I get winded sometimes doing stuff outdoors and walking and stuff, but it was caught early. Basically, I got some new meds and a stronger nebulizer medication.”

“What is the prognosis?” my younger sister Katie asked, though I could hear her voice waver. We all knew that my future health outlook was bleak from past drug use; Katie had been the one to counsel me the most since we were reunited.

“So far, not bad. I mean, over the years, I’ll have to be more careful when I get sick, because things could become exacerbated and I might have to, many, many years down the road, go on oxygen therapy, but for now, I’m very healthy. Primarily, I have to get a flu and pneumonia shot every year.”

I heard a sigh, which I recognized as dad. “At least the outlook isn’t bleak,” he said, and I nodded. “What’s the short-term prognosis?”

“Good. I just have to get onto the new regimen with my meds, which is going to take some time. I might have to limit time outdoors until the humidity clears, which won’t be until at least September or October. Until then, I just have to be careful and monitor myself.”

“You’ll keep us updated, right?” mom asked and I told her I would. “I have a feeling there’s more; what else is going on, Jim?”

I sighed, because I did not want to go down this route. “Could Jensen and Mariah please head out? This is for the adults only guys.”

I waited until they’d left the room, assured by mom that they would be outside. Then, I told them the entire story about getting drunk and why and what the solution was. There was another uncomfortable pause and then mom started to cry, making me feel like the worst son on the planet.

“Why?” she asked, and I knew she was as much hurt as mad. I’d always been so strong since my last rehab stint and I knew I’d disappointed the entire family. “Why, Jim? I thought you were dealing with things! I thought you had a counselor! What the hell possessed you to go out and get drunk, Jim? You know you could’ve died, right?”

“Mom, I don’t need a fucking lecture!” I shouted, pounding the kitchen table. We hadn’t had a fight in years, and I really didn’t want to do it now. “I’ve already had lectures from my children, my husband, my doctor and my friends! We are dealing with it! I don’t know what fucking possessed me to go out and get drunk, but for the first time in years, I did it. I know that some of it was the overwhelming emotions at the recent losses we’ve suffered, and some stress, but it was wrong. I regret it and I’m damn thankful that I woke up that next morning. I hate the fact that I have to be observed for 21 days! I hate that Jacoby and Priscilla got into a big fight over me and she left for a friend’s house. So don’t think I haven’t beaten myself up over this since the night it happened, because I have.”

There was that damned silence again and then, to my shock, the line went dead. I looked at the phone in my hands, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened; my mother hung up on me? The woman to whom I’ve been close for years and to whom I’ve grown closer since the death of my adopted mother Eleanor? Then I thought about Eleanor and how disappointed she must be in me.

“Hey dad!” Eliza’s voice called from the back door and I heard the rustle of sacks in her hand, but I’d lost my appetite. “Dad’s with me.”

I nodded, standing from my chair at the table and heading for my office, my head down. I can’t believe mom and I had a fight and she hung up on me! I sank into my office chair, my feet propped up on the red couch under the window. I gazed into the back yard, watching as a neighbor drove by on their way home and the late evening sun glinted through the trees. School was set to start soon and we had to pick out Eliza’s senior pictures soon. But none of that could take my mind off the fight I’d just had with my mother.

“Jimmy? You eating?” Jacoby asked, coming into my office. I sighed and stood, intending to make my way to the table; after all, there’s no point in not eating. “What’s wrong?”

I sighed, placing my phone in my pocket. “Mom and I had a fight and she hung up on me.”

His eyes widened, as he pulled me into a hug. “You two had a fight? Over what?”

“My drunken night, of course. She’s mad, hurt, disappointed, you name it. She was concerned about the COPD, of course, but then I made my confession to her and it was all over from there.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m sure she’ll come around, just as she has in the past. Now, come eat; there’s no use stewing over things. If she calls back during supper, take the call, okay? But your food is going to get cold and then you really won’t eat it.”

He’s right, of course, I hate reheated food from the bar. I settled reluctantly at the table, hoping mom would call back. I realize that the chances of her calling right now are slim, but a guy can hope. Breaking the rules a bit, I put my phone on the table, knowing Jacoby would excuse it for now. If mom called back, I’d be leaving to take her call anyway.

We ate in silence, Eliza only regaling with a couple of funny work stories, both of which involved the same person slipping on a wet floor. I laughed a bit, but my heart was not in it. She noticed but didn’t comment, just finished the story and her meal. At the end of my meal I looked at my phone and sighed: mom did not call back.

14

The previous night when Jimmy’s mom hung up on him out of hurt and anger, he was depressed the rest of the night. I expected that and worked with it; but today, that hurt has turned into anger. It’s 0630 in the morning and we’re on our way to work; I can tell from his driving how angry he is. The problem is that we have a strict rule against driving and texting and I’m not going to call him, either. If he doesn’t get a speeding ticket it, will be a miracle.

“Fuck her,” was the first thing he said when he slammed his door shut at work. “She’s my mom! She’s supposed to love me no matter what!”

“Jimmy, calm down, please,” I told him, as we walked inside. The sun was coming up and I squinted a bit as we walked into the ER. “Getting angry isn’t going to do you any good, understand? She’s hurt and upset, as any mother would be, so give her time. You’ve been clean and sober all these years, always found someone to talk to, and then in one night, you went out and tried to drink your problems away. Of course she’s going to be hurt, Jim. I know it wasn’t right of her to hang up on you, but it happened.”

He frowned, ignoring everyone as he went for coffee. He was panting a bit, and I knew the early morning humidity coupled with his almost-run was getting to his lungs. I ran to keep up with him, hoping to calm him down before he had an attack.

“Jimmy, you need to calm down before you have an asthma attack,” I snapped at him, as he filled his mug. I knew he was down to fly today, but Sean will ground him if he’s too sick or angry. “You know you won’t get to fly if you’re acting like this.”

He sighed, nodding, as he leaned against the wall. I filled my own coffee mug, adding a bit of cream, and then turned to face him. His breathing was ragged and I watched him take out his rescue inhaler. He had a slightly stronger one now, and he seemed to need it less.

“There. Now, go to your office and calm down. I’m sure your mother will come around soon,” I said when his breathing had regulated. Sean is aware of the situation and he knows what to do, but the fewer attacks Jimmy has at work the better. “Focus on work today, okay? We’ll try to take dinner together if we’re not on runs at that time.”

“Sounds good,” he said, giving me a quick kiss before heading for his office. As the flight nurse manager, he has a lot of paperwork to get through before he flies, so he always takes 0900-1000 for that, a fifteen minute break after that and then he’s up to fly the rest of the day. He’d come in early today because he had more paperwork than usual. “Hey Sean!”

I watched the two talk for a moment as I went to the nurse’s station, waiting for the day to begin. The night shift got us briefed and it seemed there wasn’t much to do. The patients we did have were being cared for by doctors and would only need us if they needed transport.

“What’s up with Jimmy?” Racheal, on dispatch, asked when the night shift had left. “He looks pissed.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose; all of our co-workers are aware of Jimmy’s problems, but I still try not to talk too much at work.

“That bad, huh?”

“Well, you know about the incident and the doctor appointments, right?” she nodded, taking a cautious sip of coffee. “Well, he was telling his mother about it last night and she hung up on him. She still hasn’t called back and I had to calm him down before he had an asthma attack this morning. He’s mad as hell, which is understandable, but he can’t be pissed at work or Sean won’t let him fly.”

“Wow…has she ever done this before?”

“Yeah, but it’s been years. In the first couple of years after they were reunited she’d get mad and hang up on him during a fight, but he’s had no problems recently. They don’t usually fight anymore.”

Racheal nodded, opening her mouth to respond when the dispatch tones sounded. I listened for a moment, then turned to gather my team members, glad to have Sean P. and Hollister with me today. As we headed off for an early morning accident, I only hoped that Jimmy wouldn’t get grounded today; I don’t want to deal with him if that happens.

***

By the time one rolled around, I trudged my way to the cafeteria, lunch box slung over my shoulder. Jimmy was out on an interstate accident and would be for a while, so it was just me and Hollister today. The morning had been brutal, with run after run, and I was ready for a break. We’d been guaranteed a 45 minute lunch today, and were going to take full advantage of it.

“What a rotten fucking morning,” Hollister muttered, as we settled into tables near the windows. The view is only of the parking lot, but it’s better than no view at all. She cracked open her pop and chugged a quarter of it before setting it back down. “I don’t want another morning like that ever again.”

“Ditto,” I agreed, taking a sip of my pop. I opened my sandwich and took a bite, frowning when it tasted off. Jimmy made the sandwiches this morning and he knows what I like, so I don’t get it. The lunch meat is fresh and so is the bread, so what’s the problem? “Oh, ewww.”

“What’s wrong?” Hollister asked, with a forkful of spaghetti halfway to her mouth.

“Jimmy goofed up my sandwich,” I muttered, peeling the bread apart. I’d choked down the bite I’d taken and was dismayed to find relish on my sandwich. Jimmy loves making his ham sandwiches with mayonnaise, cheese, and pickle relish; I HATE pickle relish! “He put pickle relish on it. God damn him.”

“So get some pizza,” she suggested with a shrug, and I sighed. “No need to stress over a sandwich; it happens. Randy once put hot mustard on mine and while it was gross, I lived.”

I shook my head, took the sandwich to the trash and went in to see what the offerings were. The cafeteria usually stops serving lunch at one, and sure enough, every station was empty. I finally settled on a fruit cup and a cold sandwich out of the cooler, grabbing some mayonnaise packets on my way to the check out.

“There; was that so hard?” Hollister asked, as I settled in with my new lunch. “Jimmy and Racheal are coming.”

I didn’t really care, but kept my mouth shut. I’m not mad about the sandwich, but it’s a little thing that bothers me and I know I can’t nitpick. My husband and his co-pilot settled down and Jimmy took out his sandwich, glancing in my direction.

“I packed you a sandwich…did it spoil?” he asked, biting into his own. He frowned, peeling the bread apart and I started to feel kind of bad. “What the…I know I put relish on this thing this morning.”

I realized then that I’d grabbed the wrong lunch bag. Jimmy hadn’t messed up the sandwiches after all and I heard Hollister start to giggle. Jimmy glanced at us as he stood to go find some relish packets and I shook my head.

“What?” he asked, doctoring his plain sandwich. Racheal looked confused as well and I felt myself begin to blush.

“I, uhm, though you messed up the sandwiches this morning. Mine had relish on it, so I pitched it in the trash. I was kind of irritated but now I realize I grabbed yours out of the fridge by accident. Sorry.”

Jimmy attempted a smile, though it wasn’t a very good one. “No big deal; they have relish packets here, so that’s the problem solved. The interstate accident finally got cleared, by the way. Nasty accident.”

“What happened?” I asked, as we all start eating again.

Racheal shook her head, wiping her mouth. “I’m not entirely sure. But a vehicle blew a tire, probably a semi judging from the size of the rubber, and it hit a car’s windshield. That person slammed on their breaks to pull over, the truck swerved and a chain reaction started. I don’t think anyone will die, but it was a bad scene.”

“I will never get over my fear of semis,” Hollister muttered, stirring her noodles and sauce a bit. It smelled good and beat the hell out of my food. My stomach grumbled a bit and I knew I’d be heading back in for pudding or something. “Ever since that semi damn near hit Randy and I head on a few years ago, I hate the damn things.”

I nodded, unable to disagree. “I hate them, too, because they can’t always see me coming in the ambulance. When they do, only about half get over which pisses me off. In short, I hate the damn things.”

Jimmy nodded, finishing his sandwich just as his pager went off. You can’t tell me he’s needed already! The poor guy just sat down!

“Fuck. Gotta go, time for a transfer,” he said, wiping his mouth and standing. “Grab me a Pepsi, Jack?”

“You got it, Slim,” I responded, causing Hollister to laugh once again. “I’m going in for pudding; want some?”

She nodded, still trying to regain her breathing, considering I’d caused her to snort her pop. Trust me, that hurts, but it’s funny as hell. Still laughing, I took her badge and mine and got each of us dessert, grabbing one for Jimmy as well. Might as well considering I not only took his sandwich but threw it away as well.

“Oh god, don’t ever make me do that it again!” she admonished me as I sat back down, placing the extra pudding in Jimmy’s lunch box. It’d stay cold until I was able to get it downstairs, at least. “That was mean. I keep forgetting you have those nicknames for each other. Oh lord!”

We finished our pudding a short time later and then Hollister asked me the million dollar question: what’s wrong with Jimmy?

“I wish I knew. He went out and got drunk that one night, claiming it was all the loss we’ve suffered in the last year or so. That’s understandable, but why go out and get drunk over it? He’s got a counselor, he’s been talking to his family and me and friends so why he decided to drink it away is beyond me. Then, he called his folks and ended up telling them the whole story from the COPD to the observation he’s under and his mother got mad and hung up on him.”

Hollister’s mouth fell open in shock and I nodded to confirm my words. “She hung up on him?! I thought they were close!”

I nodded. “Therein lies the problem, my friend. They are close and that’s why she was hurt and angry. He’s always gone to her when he’s had a problem and he’s never withheld anything from her. I know this was not withheld on purpose, but I’m sure that factored into it a little bit. Mostly, she got mad, from what I understand, over the drinking. He’s been sober for…23-24 years now, and that’s a huge milestone, one no one thought he’d make. He’s still considered sober, but this is a bump in that road that he didn’t need.”

“I agree with that. So we do the observation like we used to and hope that’s enough? Does Dr. Magnus really thing he’s in that much danger of a relapse?”

We stood together, our 45 minutes over with. As we left the cafeteria, I shrugged, placing my tray on a conveyor belt.

“I don’t know; I don’t think he is, but that’s just me. I think it was a onetime deal and he’s learned his lesson. But who knows? He’s never done this in his sober years and I know that temptation will be strong for him. I trust him and he knows I trust him, but the doctor said observation, so we’re doing it.”

“I hope it works. I know he hates being on observation and if I could fly, I’d go with him. He seems to do okay with Racheal, though,” Hollister said, as we got into the elevator. She pressed the basement button and I nodded. “So at least it won’t be painful for him at work. I know it will be hard, since he flies 95% of the time, but if he gets on well with the flight staff, that’s half the battle.”

“And I’m grateful for the flight staff, trust me. I was afraid he’d have to be grounded during this time, but that’s not been the case for once. Sean didn’t want to ground him, either, but he knew it might happen. Sean won’t ground anyone without a good reason and he’ll go up in that chopper if it saves him grounding someone, especially one of his best pilots.”

“No sense grounding a pilot that’s got a safety record like Jimmy’s.”

“What about Jimmy’s safety record?” a voice asked and we turned to see Ann, one of the newer flight nurses, coming off the second elevator. She was in her flight suit and looked like she’d just gotten in.

“We were saying that Sean didn’t want to ground Jimmy during his observation because he’s one of the best pilots that man has, especially since he’s got an accident-free safety record.”

“True…not many pilots can say that. What’s this observation stuff, anyway? Sean said I’m to observe Jimmy tomorrow, when he’s on for flight nurse. I guess I can’t leave him during the 12 hours, even in the bathroom! What’d he do?”

With a sigh, I brought her up to speed; she’s only worked here a couple of years and she’s not as close to everyone else, so she’s not heard Jimmy’s entire history.

“Oh. Well, hopefully it all goes well. He doesn’t know me that well, so I don’t want to have to yell at him,” she said and bid us farewell as we went our separate ways in the ER.

I almost laughed, actually, when she said that, but it was so true I couldn’t laugh. She’s right that she doesn’t know him, so I hope he’s no trouble for her. This time is hard enough for him without stranger problems on top of it. With a sigh, I settled behind the nurse’s station and counted down to the end of my shift; it couldn’t come fast enough.

Fifteen

“Can I just get a couple of minutes to myself?” I asked my husband, when he got home that night. I was irritated after a week of being followed, considering co-workers are watching me that barely know me. “I just need like, 24 hours to myself.”

“No, the rule is you get a five minute break every hour and nothing more,” Jacoby reminded me, as Priscilla escaped back to her room. She’d finally come home after more than a week at her friend’s house, but she still wouldn’t speak to us. I guess having her home is better than nothing, but things are not yet resolved. “Now, if you want your five minutes right now, go for it; otherwise, help me make supper.”

Did I mention that, out of 21 days, I still have about 14 to go? I’ve survived the first seven or so, but I’m so tired of it and I learned my lesson. I have had one beer in the first few days and that was with Tony after work. Therefore, I count myself as having learned my lesson because I have no cravings for alcohol and no desire to have a repeat performance.

“Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson Jacoby. There are no cravings, no desire to go out and drink, nothing. I am content to remain sober, so please can we end 14 days early?”

Jacoby whirled on me and it did occur to me that I’ve been begging for the observation to stop pretty consistently since it started a little over a week ago. I suppose now he’s annoyed with me or angry at me or something. I know they’re just trying to help but it was a onetime deal and as I said, I learned my damn lesson.

“We are only trying to help you!” Jacoby snapped, glaring at me. “If you can’t handle that, then be my guest. Go out, get drunk, whatever makes you happy. But we’re trying to help you, Jimmy.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I know that and I appreciate that, Jacoby. But I am a grown man now who has been sober for 23 fucking years! I think I know what I’m doing here!” I snapped back, crossing my arms over my chest. I know it’s childish, but when I’m mad, I sometimes like to punch things and it’s just safer for everyone this way. “I know I fucked up and I shouldn’t have gone out that night, but it’s done and it can’t be undone.”

“And that’s why we’re doing this, Jimmy,” he growled at me, starting to pace. That’s a sign that he’s really mad and probably wants to hit me. We’ve always prided ourselves on not being a violent couple, however, no matter how bad things get. “We’re doing this so you don’t end up relapsing. I don’t want you to give up 23 fucking years of sobriety! I know the losses of late have been difficult; trust me, I was not prepared to lose my own fucking mother! But I am working through it and a few months on, I can at least function. I miss her like hell, I cry about her all the fucking time, but you don’t see me going out and getting smashed over it!”

That might have been the last straw for me. “For god’s sake, Jacoby! I know I fucked up, okay? But you try losing your father and the one woman besides Eleanor who was a mother for me that close together, okay? I know that Hank meant a lot to you, too, but he was my FATHER, Jacoby! He was all I had for ten years and even when we found my real parents, he and Eleanor remained mostly what I had! I know that mom and dad and I are close again, but it took years for that to happen. In the mean time, I had my parents in Eleanor and Hank and now they are both gone. I am, essentially, an orphan and I can’t quite get over that!”

I don’t know what exactly happened next, but Jacoby slapped me. My jaw fell open and I heard the girls gasp, as Jacoby took his shaking hand back, looking at it as though he didn’t recognize it. My cheek was stinging as I felt tears well up in my eyes.

“You fucking hit me!” I whispered, fear lacing my words. He’d never hit me before that I could remember. I mean, he might’ve hit me before and I don’t remember it, but in recent memory, there’s no hitting. “Why did you hit me?”

“I-I don’t know,” he said, his voice shaking. “I haven’t done that in years. I am so sorry Jimmy.”

Now that I remember, he has slapped me before and it usually brings on flashbacks. But tonight, there were no flashbacks, just shock as I stared at my husband, facing me in the kitchen. In some ways, the flashbacks would be better than just standing here, feeling hurt and confused.

“There are no flashbacks tonight, Jacoby,” I whispered, aware the girls were watching from the stairs. I’m sure they were just as shocked, since these types of fights don’t happen in our house anymore. “But I still don’t know why you hit me.”

There was a very painful, very pregnant pause and then Jacoby shook his head. I knew that he had no idea why he’d hit me and really, did the reason matter? He’s hit me before, but he’s right, it has been years.

“I’m sorry, Jim. I shouldn’t have hit you. That was uncalled for.”

“It was. What the hell, Jack?” I asked, becoming angry now. My fists balled at my side, even as I felt the bruise forming painfully on my right cheek. I reared my fist back and would’ve gotten him square in the left eye, except someone stopped me.

“Dad, that’s enough.”

I turned to see Priscilla standing there, my fist in her hand, as she glared at me. I had really hoped her first words in almost two weeks would be ‘I’m sorry’, but I’ll take what I can get.

“I don’t know what the hell the problem is around here these days, but if this is what my home-life is going to be like, I’m leaving again.”

With that, she lowered my fist, then let go and left the room. The stairs creaked a bit as she ran up them and I heard her door click closed a moment later. Eliza was standing near the table and she looked scared, which dissipated my anger immediately.

“Eliza, I’m sorry you had to see that,” I told her, as she looked between her father and me.

“What was that?” she asked, approaching us slowly. “You two fight all the time, but never like that.”

Jacoby sighed, rubbing his face as he sank into a chair. “We used to, Eliza, before you were born. When your dad and I first got together, before we were even married, we fought a lot and there was a lot of hitting. We even broke up a few different times. But when he was sober, we were good; we didn’t fight much and we certainly didn’t hit each other. But when your dad is high or drunk, he’s violent. That’s why we waited to have kids until he was clean and sober for longer than five years. Tonight was a fluke; we reverted to our old fighting ways and it was wrong.”

“I’ll say. What is so wrong in this family that you have to fight like this? I mean, I’ve been trying to talk to you guys for almost two weeks now about college but you’re too busy fighting and yelling with dad to listen.”

I felt like a total heel when she said that. After all, she’s right. When she tries to bring up college, we are so distracted with other concerns that we don’t listen to her. I sat down and pulled her into a hug, apologizing for our behavior. I jumped when something cold touched my hand, then looked up at Jacoby, who had extended me an ice pack. I nodded, taking the towel wrapped pack and pressing it gently to my bruised cheek; this was going to look smashing at work tomorrow.

“The floor is yours, Eliza,” I said, as Jacoby took down some frozen pizza for supper. Any supper plans had been ruined at this point, so I guess that was the next best thing. “What do you want to say?”

“I decided to accept the financial aid package I got from Art Institute of California in Santa Ana,” she said, quietly. “I heard back from all three colleges I looked at, but I liked them best. I got a full ride for four years based off my drawing of you guys.”

It’s been a busy summer, with traveling to California and then two college visit days right when we got back. But clearly it had paid off and next fall, we’d be seeing Eliza off to California for college, our first child to leave the nest.

“That’s great!” Jacoby exclaimed, hugging our daughter tight. “I’m so proud of you!”

“As am I,” I told her, taking my turn to hug her. I really was proud, too, because she’s worked hard for this moment. She smiled, but I knew it wasn’t entirely happy. “What’s wrong? Just nerves?”

She shook her head, biting her lip; it’s a nervous habit of hers, and I waited to hear what she had to say. I mean, I think I knew, but best to let her do the talking.

“Well, I just thought you guys didn’t care, that’s all. I mean, I tried for two weeks to tell you my great news, but even when I went screaming through the house, you just ignored me. Everyone at work was thrilled and Molly even offered to hang up my acceptance letter in the office, since it never made it to our fridge. I took it in and Micheal put it up in a frame and everything.”

Well, that stings a little. I do recall a couple of weeks ago hearing her dancing around the house, but I wasn’t feeling well, Jacoby was at work and Priscilla was out with friends. I guess it’s shame on us for not paying enough attention to our daughter.

“Do you still want it on the fridge?” Jacoby asked and I was surprised when Eliza shook her head.

“Nah, it’s okay.” She stood up, waving awkwardly to us. “That’s all I wanted.”

“Wow…I don’t feel like father of the year exactly,” I told my husband, running a hand down my face. “I feel like a total heel, to be honest.”

“Same here, Jim. How the hell did we miss this exciting moment in her life?”

“I vaguely remember her dancing around the house one day, but I was down with my lungs and you were at work. I couldn’t get off the couch in my office and she never came in to talk to me, that I remember.”

“I did, actually,” she responded, causing me to jump. “But you were so out of it, you don’t remember. I’m going into Omaha with friends. Back later tonight and if not I’ll call.”

I nodded, listening to the door snick shut before I sighed, slowly banging my head on the table.

“Hey, don’t do that. We all make mistakes and while this probably qualifies as mistake of the year, it’s not the end of the world. We still have to take the girls school shopping tomorrow when we’re off and get them registered for school. That will take our minds off things.”
“I hate school shopping,” I muttered, as I stood up to grab the food. I guess Eliza’s not eating and Jacoby called to Priscilla to come eat. Even if she’s silent, at least she’s at the table and in the house. “Cilla, don’t forget about school shopping tomorrow.”

“Eh, I’m going with Randi and her mom tomorrow to do it; thanks though!” she said and grabbed three slices of pizza and started to leave the kitchen.

“You, young lady, are going to sit your ass at this table and eat with your family,” Jacoby growled, but Priscilla shrugged, making her way upstairs. Oh, she’s in a mood and it’s going to be the death of us. “Get back here right now or you’re going to be grounded for a week.”

That worked. The world’s most sullen, moody, angst-ridden teenager plopped her unhappy butt at her place at the table and sulked her way through the food. The second her plate was empty, she flipped us off and went to her room. What a surprise, she came back down with her bags packed and told us Randi was here to pick her up.

“Might come home, might not tomorrow. Can I have my school money?”

The nerve! “I think you already know the answer to that, young lady. You will be meeting us at Westroads Mall at 10 tomorrow morning and shopping with us. Randi’s mother is not raising you, we are, and you will shop with us as a family.”

“Yeah, right. Guess I’ll just get my money tomorrow, then. Good thing I’ve saved my allowances for this occasion.”

With that, she was gone, leaving two very angry men in her wake. I growled low in my throat and for once, Jacoby didn’t try to calm me down. I do not know what has gotten into that girl, but she’s got some serious talks coming from us. This attitude is not going to be tolerated any longer and she’s in for a rude awakening if she thinks it is.

Sixteen

School shopping is the bane of every parent’s existence, I’m sure of it. Eliza has always been easy to please during school shopping; she’s kind of a tom boy, so a few pairs of jeans and t-shirts are all she needs. We always get them new tennis shoes and at least one other pair of shoes and then their school supplies. High schoolers need less stuff than elementary school kids but it’s more expensive. The calculator she needs this year, for instance, is over $100! She’s an art school student (well, will be); what the fuck does she need calculus for?

Priscilla is another matter entirely. She, Randi, and Marg were indeed at Westroads at 10 as we’d said to be. But that was all we saw of her, just a glare and smirk as she walked past us into the mall with her friend. Marg hung back, assuring us this was just a phase and it happened to all teenagers; Randi was going through something similar, though not quite as bad. She certainly wasn’t moving out on a regular basis, that’s for sure.

“It’s just something they all go through. They want to test the boundaries and see what buttons they can push. I’ve made it clear to Priscilla that she has to return home tonight, not because we don’t want her to stay, but because she needs to be with her family. She was mad, but she’ll get over it. The first time, she stayed for nearly two weeks and I don’t want that to happen again. She’s a lovely girl, but she needs to work this out with you guys. Any idea what’s going on?”

I shook my head, waiting for Jimmy; his lungs were angry today and I hoped his COPD wasn’t going to advance quickly for him. When he’d caught up, we resumed our conversation, finally settling on a bench so he could rest. Eliza had some of her allowance and work money, so we said we’d text when we were ready to do school shopping.

“I have no idea what’s going on. Jimmy’s been having some problems with his health and mental illnesses, but we’re working through them. I mean, yeah, we’ve had some fights and stuff, but that’s about it. Otherwise, it’s been a fairly normal summer for the girls. I don’t know if she’s mad because Eliza’s had a bit more attention this summer with senior pictures and prepping for college or what.”

“We’ve—asked her what’s wrong, too,” Jimmy said, digging his rescue out of his pocket. He’s finally on the new medications and they seemed to be working until today. When he could breathe, he spoke again, seemingly with more air. “But she won’t tell us.”

Marg nodded, looking thoughtful. “When she stayed with us, she complained about Jimmy’s health problems, Eliza doing all these campus visits, ect. She said she was tired of it all and wanted out. When I asked her to elaborate, she seemed at a loss for words. I suspect it’s not so much that she’s angry, which she might well be, but that she feels there is less attention being paid to her. What can you do to pay her more attention?”

“We’re going to sit down and have a long chat about her recent attitude,” I said, and Marg nodded. “But outside of that, we give all the attention we can, you know? We are still working and we have to help Eliza with her school stuff. She got accepted to the school of her choice with a full ride and so we’re going to have to prepare for that and graduation. But we’ve tried to offer her trips like this one today or to chaperone something during the school year. She doesn’t want anything to do with us. I thought about taking her to the zoo in the next couple of days, since that’s something she always enjoys, but haven’t brought it up to her yet.”

“It’s a good start. You should have the talk first, of course, but when she cools off, try to offer the zoo trip. If she can spend even one day with you two, it might help. It might not, of course, because some kids are just like that and she is 14. But it’s worth a try. How are you feeling Jimmy?”

He shrugged. “Aside from today, pretty good. The new medications are working and my breathing has been getting better actually, which was a nice surprise. Today is a tough one for some reason, though. I think it’s the humidity. I forgot my mask, which I’m supposed to wear on days like this, so it’s entirely my fault.”

I sighed, though I’m partly at fault, too. I should’ve reminded him to wear the damn thing, when I saw the humidity was 98%. It’s only, you know, 102 degrees out there right now.

“Well, hopefully being inside will help for now,” Marg said, as we watched the crowds; everyone was out school shopping today, it seemed. “When you go back out, just put your hand over your mouth and that should help.”

Have I mentioned that Marg is a retired nurse? She’s actually not much older than we are, but she had terrible back problems and managed to snag retirement rather than disability, which suited her. She knows her stuff about asthma, though, since she worked for a pulmonologist for several years.

“Well, we should have the girls meet us so we can get this over with,” I said after a few minutes. The sun was streaming in through the skylight, making the floor shine. The plants that are scattered around seem to be soaking it up as well, and it makes the mall look nice. “I’ll send them a text and see what happens.”

***

Three hours later, it was over. I sent Jimmy inside right away, because while a hand over his mouth is working, it’s not a great solution and he needs to breathe. Eliza and I can carry in the bags in a couple of trips, and if my husband is feeling up to it, he can come help. Needless to say, I’m glad our renter pays us in a couple of days, because this was one expensive shopping trip! Eliza had grown over the summer, apparently, and is now 6’3” tall, one inch shorter than Jimmy, so we had to get all new jeans for her. Not one single pair fit and she has no luck with cheaper places. But through some miracle, we found seven new pair of jeans, a few pair of shorts, and a bunch of new shirts. Her chest grew, too, so that meant new bras (thank god for places that can measure her!), and when we were done, our giant finally had a new wardrobe, all ready for her senior year of high school.

Grumpy, pardon me I mean Priscilla, was nothing but a pistol the entire time. I finally gave her half of her money and let her and Randi have at it. I know that wasn’t the way to do it, but it was easier than fighting with her public. This way, too, she’s spending most of her own money on the clothes she thinks she needs to have and I don’t have to see the bill. She will be home later tonight, however, on the order of Marg, so it will be interesting to see how things go when we talk.

“I’m glad that’s over for another year,” I complained, as I sank onto the couch. Jimmy grinned at me from his recliner, a breathing wand in his hand. His nebulizer buzzed a bit and I hoped it would help.

“Me, too,” he agreed, coughing a bit. He slept on the way home and I called Dr. Sullivan, who gave me the guidelines for panic; so far, Jimmy does not fall under those guidelines. I always knew when to panic when it was just asthma, but COPD is more serious and can have worse consequences.

“Feeling better?” I asked, when the breathing treatment was over. He nodded, setting all of his equipment aside. “We should plan out our talk with Grumpy Shaddix tonight. I know we have to talk about this attitude problem, but we should get some consequences and solutions for her as well.”

Jimmy nodded, reaching for a notebook he often kept by his chair. I’ve seen him writing in it, sketching in it, and I suppose it’s a sort of journal for him. Crossing his ankles, he grabbed a pen, then looked at me in askance.

“Well, she’s got a rotten attitude. So, running to Randi’s house is no longer allowed. From now on, she can only see Randi either here at the house or when we’ve scheduled it with Marg.”

“That’s fair. Now, she’s got to understand that we can’t give her 100 percent of our attention all the time. We will give her her fair share of attention of course and more when necessary, but she is not an only child and will not be treated as such. Any more leaving the house as she has been means being grounded for one week to start and adding a week from there. She will have her driving lessons revoked for outbursts toward us that she does not resolve and we can figure out punishments from there.”

“I agree. Marg said she’d have her home by six, so she can have supper with us. Speaking of, what are we having for supper?”

Jimmy shrugged, grabbing his laptop. I waited patiently, since he’s developed a bit of a passion for cooking over the years (hey, he went from burning water (you think I’m kidding, don’t you? You must be new here…) to being able to actually cook edible food!), and he’s got quite a trove of recipes on that computer.

“It’s still really, really hot and humid out, but since our grill is in the shade of the deck, want me to make burgers and potatoes?”

I pretended to wipe drool from my mouth and nodded, causing Jimmy to laugh. “Yes! You make the stuff, I’ll cook the stuff. You stay inside, though. Should I run into town for some sweet corn?”

“Ohhh…yes!”

I laughed, quickly slipping into my sandals and heading out the door. Eliza’s going to stay home with Jimmy, so they’ll be fine alone; since it’s close to six anyway, I might catch Priscilla on her way home, joy of joys.

“Coby!”

I turned when the garage door opened and greeted Ryland, from up the gravel. He doesn’t come down much and that’s fine with me. They’re a nice family and all, but they don’t really fit in out here for some reason. We had a BBQ to welcome them shortly after they arrived but the entire thing seemed awkward and we were all glad when they left.

“Hey Ryland; what’s up?”

He came into the garage and shrugged a smile on his face as usual. “Not much. Just wondered if I could get Priscilla to babysit tomorrow night? It’d be from seven until about midnight. We’d feed the kids, so all she’d have to do is bathe them and put them to bed. We’d pay her about $30 for the whole night.”

“I’ll talk to her, but I’m okay with it. She’s been upset with us, so she’s at a friend’s house right now. If she won’t do it, I’ll talk to Eliza.”

“Great, we appreciate it. How’s Jimmy?”

The neighbors know about Jimmy’s health problems, of course, though I didn’t remember telling Ryland. It doesn’t matter, though, since it’s nice of him to ask.

“He’s doing okay. Today’s been rough, but the heat and humidity are hard for him. I told him I’d grill tonight so he doesn’t have to go outside. We took the girls school shopping today and I think that was enough for him. I’m running into town right now for sweet corn for tonight.”

“Don’t go into town. Come on up!”

I gave him a confused glance, then told him to hop in; I’m not walking with a heat index of 109! It took a short few minutes to drive the mile to his house and I swallowed a sudden lump upon entering the yard and exiting the truck. I mean, the yard itself hasn’t changed; the trees are still there and the shed and garage. But things have changed: the house used to be a light yellow and now has beige siding on it, same with the garage and shed. The back porch, which used to sag just a bit, is now solid and has been fixed. As we walked toward the house, I noticed all new windows, a new roof, Jimmy’s swing was gone from his tree and the gardens, Eleanor and Hank’s prized possessions in their later years were gone as well.

I’m embarrassed to say, but I started bawling. Ryland stopped to look back at me, alarmed at my emotional reaction. I hadn’t actually been up here for a while because I didn’t want to see it; I didn’t want to see the changes the family had made. I sat down on an old tree stump, amazed that it had stayed, and put my face in my hands. I knew that this was no longer Hank and Eleanor Mark’s house, but to me it always would be.

“Coby? What’s wrong? Should I get Jimmy?” Ryland asked, placing an awkward hand on my left shoulder. I shook my head, trying to get my emotions under control, but it was no use. “What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t begin to talk, though, as I looked around at the old house and the yard that had been so close to me for so many years. I mean, when I first bought my house, which was a hunk of junk close to falling down, Hank and Eleanor were the first people I met. When I married Jimmy, they became the parents he didn’t have. We spent more hours in this kitchen after fights, or just having a family meal then I can ever count. Hank would take Eliza and Priscilla sometimes for a weekend or a night and give us a chance to have a break. I took a deep breath and wiped my eyes, even if it was all for naught.

“I’m sorry, Ryland, I really am. I guess…I just…we spent so many hours at this house before Hank died, you know? This was our refuge during fights or if we needed a night off from Eliza or Priscilla. Jimmy came here when he needed time alone or if he needed parents to talk to. We couldn’t find his parents for the first 10 years we were together and Hank and Eleanor adopted him. He’d come up here for family stuff, I came up here for family stuff, etc. We helped paint the house every five years, we tended the gardens, we helped Hank with upkeep when it got too much for him. And when I look at the house now, it’s so different.

“I guess I’ve been avoiding coming up here, Ryland, and I don’t mean that because of you at all. You guys did nothing wrong; it’s just too hard to come here and see this house and all it’s meant to me and know that’s all gone now. Hank really is gone, for a year now, and since he’s the only dad I ever knew, it’s just really hard. I know that sounds so horrible of me, because you’ve been such awesome neighbors, but it’s so hard to finally see the house. Jimmy has had such a hard time since we lost Hank and then we lost mom six months later. I thought I was doing okay, but then I realized how horrible I’ve been to you guys, you know? Ignoring you, avoiding coming by the house and it’s all because I couldn’t handle it.” I wiped my eyes, accepting a hanky from Ryland to wipe my nose. “This is so embarrassing. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Ryland said, giving me a tight hug. His wife came out to join us, alarmed when she saw me crying on the ground. “Don’t you dare be sorry, okay? I should’ve realized that when I brought you up here. I didn’t even think about it, I just knew we had sweet corn and I can supply you for free. I never once considered that this might be hard for you. We’ve made a lot of changes, made it our own, and I never considered how much that might hurt.”

I shook my head, trying to assuage his apparent guilt. “It’s not your fault. I just…I’m not used to seeing the gardens gone or the house beige or the shed not peeling with paint. Jimmy’s swing isn’t on his tree anymore and everything is just so different. I mean, Eleanor taught us how to garden and I can still picture all of her rose gardens and the other flower gardens. I tended them until you guys bought the house and I didn’t realize you’d gotten rid of them.”

“We didn’t, actually,” Ella said, and I gave her a confused look. I know where they should be, considering how much effort I’d put into them over the years. “They’re still here and they haven’t moved. Because you haven’t been up here for a while your memory puts them where it wants them. But look.”

I looked north and there, where they’ve always been, were the gardens, just as beautiful as ever. Ella beckoned me over and pointed to Jimmy’s swing and I sniffed. She was right; everything was in place, I just hadn’t realized it. She brought me into a hug, allowing another display of emotion.

“You were always welcome,” she told me, rubbing my back. “You guys are always welcome.”

“I’ll remember that,” I told her, trying to calm down a bit. I wiped my face once again and gazed at the roses I’d learned how to grow over the years. “Thank you.”

Ella smiled as I wiped my eyes one more time, taking a deep, shuddering breath. What a way to meet the neighbors.

Seventeen

Jacoby is certainly taking a long time to get sweet corn. I mean, it’s probably about ten minutes into Mondamin, tops, plus time to get the corn from the vendor. Scott sits just as you enter town, so he’s not hard to find. Unless he’s busy (which happens), Jacoby should’ve been back by now. He’s been gone over an hour and I’m starting to worry.

Hey, what’s up? You’ve been gone over an hour, hon. Burgers and potatoes are ready and I’m worried.

But again, there was no answer. As humid as it is, I know I’m supposed to stay inside, but I’m about to go out looking for him!

“Eliza!” I called up the stairs (Priscilla wasn’t home just yet, but Marg called to say they were running late), and heard her muffled response. “Come down here please.”

She appeared at the top of the stairs, her face asking what I wanted. When I explained, she nodded, grabbing her keys and purse and heading outside; she knew I shouldn’t be outside, after all, with my lungs. Not that her lungs are suited for this weather, either, but she’s certainly in less danger than me.

“I’ll call when I find him,” she hollered halfway out the door. “Grumpy’s home now, too.”

I almost laughed, but bit it back. Hearing Priscilla stomp up the stairs, I stopped her in the kitchen.

“You can start the stock pot boiling for the corn,” I told her, ignoring her death glare. “No attitude. After supper, you’re going to sit down and have a chat with your dad and me.”

“Whatever.”

She slammed her way around the kitchen, filling the pot with hot water and almost dropping it on the stove. Water sloshed a bit over the side as she flipped on the burner then turned to face me, arms crossed over her chest.

“Am I allowed to go to my room now?” she spat and I shook my head.

“Nope. You’re going to hang out with me in the living room until you dad gets back. When he gets back with the corn, you’re going to shuck it and clean it, then you can help him make supper. There’s going to be a change around here, Priscilla June, whether you like it or not.”

She actually looked astonished; that’s exactly what she looked like. I shook my head and pointed to the living room, blocking her way to the stairs. She tried to push me aside, but I’m bigger than her and she gave up.

“This is so not fair!” she complained, as my phone went off. “You’re ignoring me!”

“No, I’m not, but you’re repeating yourself. When you have something new to say, feel free to speak.”

I looked at my messages, relieved that Eliza had found her dad. He’d wandered up to the neighbors, which surprised me; he doesn’t seem to like them that much. Either way, they had corn and they were on their way back.

“Why am I being punished here?”

I regarded my daughter, soon to be 15. She was in high school now, learning to drive, growing up. She’s not as tall as her sister, though, and seems to be taking after Jacoby in that sense. I’m 6’4” compared to his 5’9”, and Eliza is already 6’3”. I really hope that kid stops growing soon. But Priscilla, she’s all Jacoby. She’s got his eyes, his hair, his skin coloring and for a while, had his even temperament. Her attitude of late reminded me too much of myself and that scared me.

“Dad? You can stop staring at me now. Honestly.”

“I’m worried about you, Cilla. I know you don’t care, but I am. You’re in the same downward spiral I was before I hit rock bottom. Trust me, Cilla, I don’t want you going down that road, okay? I don’t want to be my parents, wondering if you’re safe or alive. Don’t do what I did and ruin your life.”

It was probably lost on her, but at least I felt better. Jacoby and Eliza came in and I told the girls to start the grill and get the corn cleaned up. While they did that, I grabbed my husband and pulled him into my office.

“What’s wrong? You look as though you’ve been crying.”

He nodded, sitting on my couch while I locked the door. I handed him a box of tissues and then sat next to him, concerned. I’m definitely the more emotional of the two of us, so this is concerning.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me, honey. I was worried when you were gone so long.”

“I’m sorry. Ryland came down to see if Priscilla would babysit tomorrow night and I said I’d talk to her. I mentioned I was headed in for corn and he said to come up since they grow it. I-I wasn’t thinking and we drove up there and I broke down, Jim. Everything has changed so much and I just couldn’t handle it.”

I held him tight, understanding how he felt; I felt the same way. We knew it was going to happen, but it’s hard to see it actually happening.

“I know, honey, I know. It’s never easy to see the changes even though we knew they were coming. But perhaps now that both of have been crying in their yard we’ll have better relations with them. For now, perhaps we should go eat. We still need to talk to Cilla and it’ll be easier to do that if we’re calm.”

My husband agreed and we took another moment before we left my office. I did not want to go into our talk already charged up, even though she’d already made me mad. I was surprised to find that Priscilla was helping as instructed, poking the ears of corn into the boiling water. We always had to make two pots of water, since we all ate at least three ears of corn each. Our soup pot is big, but it’s not that big.

“Eliza’s got the burgers and potatoes on,” Cilla said and for the first time, she sounded civil. Maybe Eliza said something to her. “She’s outside.”

I chose to stay inside and set the table, getting everything ready to eat. I wanted to eat outside, but I can’t eat with a mask on, of course, so inside it will have to be. Priscilla was quiet but I didn’t press it; the talk later tonight will be unpleasant enough and I didn’t want to start now.

***

After supper, as planned, Jacoby and I sat at the table with our daughter and started our talk. The sun was still shining into the living room from the west window and it made the occasion seem much sunnier than it would likely be.

“So, Priscilla, I think you know what we want to talk about.”

She shrugged, sinking down sullenly in her chair. We all had a can of pop in front of us, but something about her expression said it wasn’t to her liking. I had some questions, but I kept to myself for now; if she’s up to something, I hope I’d know!

“This sudden attitude problem of yours is going to stop. There is no must stop about it,” Jacoby began, receiving yet another shrug from our daughter. “So, what are you going to do to be a more pleasant young lady?”

Boy, silence can be palpable, I guess. I wonder if this was what my parents went through before my disappearance. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration.

“For starters, no more running off to Randi’s when you’re mad. If you want to see her, she comes here or we schedule with Marg for you to go there,” I told her and that’s when the first tears started. “If you do run off, you’ll be grounded for one week to start; after that, it’s up to us to decide. Any arguments with us that you don’t resolve or that outright insult one or both of us will mean two weeks being grounded. We’re going to see some improvements in your behavior, young lady.”

She shrugged, standing from the table, only to be re-seated by a stern word from Jacoby.

“Now, I want to hear from you what you plan to do to change,” I told her, but got a shrug. “That’s not a good enough answer. School starts in two weeks and I will come get you if I have to; you’re not going to go to Randi’s every day. And you sure as hell won’t get your school permit if this shit keeps up.”

Well, that got us a death glare for sure. “So what, you’re going to dictate my social life now? Great! Because you guys have one hell of a social life, let me tell you. And as far as my school permit? Already got it!” she smirked, brandishing the small rectangular plastic beginners license. “Randi’s mom and Randi went with me last week to get it. So, what are you going to do now that that threat is empty?”

I reached over and easily plucked it from her hands, tucking it safely into my wallet; she looked stunned to say the least, as if she thought I couldn’t or wouldn’t be able to do that. Well, I am her father for starters and furthermore, I have very long arms, so yes, I was able to do that.

“That’s not fair!” she shouted, standing up from the table. “You can’t just do that!”

“I can and I did,” I told her, waiting for her to sit back down. Of course, I was prepared for her to run off, but we’ve laid out the rules if that happens. “You know what happens if you run off from this talk, Priscilla, so I suggest you sit back down.”

Well, that got to her, at least; she sat back down, slumping in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. For a brief moment, I thought she was going to throw her pop on me, but she didn’t.

“Now, what are you going to do to change?” Jacoby asked, the situation clearly wearing on him.

“Nothing. I haven’t done anything wrong, you just think I have. I’m sorry if I don’t think everything supposedly wrong with dad is actually wrong; I’ve been doing some research and it appears that depression is just something a person creates when they’re upset. Trust me, the research is out there. So, depression isn’t real. I know the lung stuff is real, but nothing else is. So, while I might be a typical teenager, I haven’t done anything wrong. So, give me back my permit and quit trying to ruin my life!”

I couldn’t help my reaction as I stood up, tears streaming down my face; she thinks how I feel isn’t real? I’d love to see her research on that! I towered over her, and if this had been a cartoon, there’d have been steam coming from my ears.

“I don’t know what bullshit you’ve been reading young lady, but it’s all bull. Depression and PTSD are as real as it can get and you know it!” I reared back to slap her but Jacoby intervened in time. “If I ever hear you say that about me again, you will be grounded until you are 40!”

With that, I stormed from the kitchen, leaving Jacoby to sort out the mess. I ignored my daughter’s continued ramblings as I got into my truck and headed into Mondamin; I needed a moment to myself and Molly’s bar was the only place in town I was going to get what I needed.

When I stormed into the bar moments later, Molly was there. She works one or two nights a week here and there to keep busy or to cover when her son can’t be there. She also knows how to deal with me and before I knew it, I was seated in my usual corner, a glass of ‘Pepsi on the rocks’ in front of me. She knows what I want right now: Scotch. She also knows the rules: no drinking and she enforces it.

“What’s going on, Jimmy? You haven’t come storming in here in a very long time.”

I slammed the glass back, drinking the entire thing in one breath. Molly flagged someone down for a refill and then took my hands, rubbing them in an attempt to calm me down.

“That damn child!” I shouted pounding the table. Another pop was placed in front of me and I slammed this one back, too, slamming the glass on the table. The waitress took it for a refill as I tried to gather my stormy thoughts. “She just doesn’t get it!”

“So this is about Priscilla, then? I figured as much; Eliza keeps me up to date. Is it back to her denying the depression and PTSD, then? After so many years, you shouldn’t be surprised when she does this. What were you doing this time?”

I took my time on the third drink, as Molly started to calm me down. She’s getting up there in years, but she’s as healthy as a horse and still has the touch with her customers after all these years.

“We were having a talk with her. She’s been terrible the last few weeks, since we got back from vacation. She runs off to Randi’s house all the time, she won’t listen, she defies us; we’ve had it! I know she’s 14, but this is getting out of hand, honestly. So, we laid out some rules and that was the end of that. Apparently, she went with Marg and Randi to get her school permit and stuff, which we never approved of, so I need to talk to Marg about that. I certainly hope Marg didn’t pick up the bill for that, no matter what it was! I’m just so mad at her, Molly.”

She nodded, still rubbing my hands. She’s a mom, though her kids are all grown. That aside, it still means that she understands where I’m coming from, because she’s had teenagers before and she’s got teenage grandchildren now, with a great-grandchild on the way.

“I know you’re mad right now, but you’re not going to feel any better until you calm down. Now, I know that sucks, because you are so mad. You wanted to drink, so I know this is serious. What she needs is a slap in the face. I have some contacts and if you and Jacoby will permit it, I can get her into volunteer where she’ll get scared straight.”

I knew that she had sensed Jacoby running frantically in, hoping I wasn’t drunk off my ass. The relieved look on his face indicated that, while I’d be wired from the caffeine for a while, at least I wasn’t drunk. He sank into a chair, sending a text message to probably half the county to say I was fine and sober.

“Thanks, Molly, we owe you again,” he told her, wiping a hand down his face. He accepted a glass of Pepsi while I signaled for a refill, then glanced at me. “All better?”

“Getting there. Molly has an idea, but I want to hear her out before we make a decision.”

Jacoby nodded at our friend and as she spoke, I started to think she had the right idea.

Eightteen

I listened as Molly explained her idea and to be honest I thought she was nuts at first. But then I thought about it and realized she might be on the right track.

“So, you can get her a few hours a week after school volunteering at this place?” I clarified, and Molly nodded, smiling. “And what’s this place again?”

“Just the local children’s hospital in Omaha; my sister is a nurse on their behavioral health unit and they always need volunteers to work with the kids, sit with the kids, etc.”

“And you really think this will help?” I asked, glancing at Jimmy. He’s calmer now, but I can still see tears in his eyes; Priscilla really hurt him this time, and she’s been dealt with. She’s at home with Hollister right now, steam coming from her ears because she’s grounded for two weeks. “Because I’m at my wit’s end here.”

Molly nodded, accepting a glass of water as our pops were refilled. We both have to work in the morning, so we’d best slow down on the caffeine. I thought about her offer and it seems reasonable to me.

“Jimmy, what do you think? Do you think this is going to help?”

He sighed, wiping his eyes, the hurt he was still feeling clear on his face. “I don’t know; nothing we’ve done so far has helped, so why should this be any different?”

Molly took his hands, massaging them. “Because here, she’d see it in kids, some of whom are her age. It might be just what she needs to realize whatever she’s reading is pure bunk, that this shit is real. Have you seen her apparent evidence?”

I shook my head, considering we’d had no time after Jimmy had left the house. “Not yet, but I intend to review it when we have a moment. She’s grounded for two weeks right now, so I’m trying to figure out who’s going to stay with her while we work the next few days. School starts next week, so that’s less of a problem, but it’s only Tuesday so we need a solution now.”

“She can come with Eliza to work; she can’t do much because of her age, but she is allowed to wipe down tables and wrap silverware in napkins and stuff like that. Send her with her sister tomorrow, Thursday, and Friday. Eliza’s got day shift then, 08-16, since she’s getting ready for school, and I’ll come by the farm on Saturday if you have to work.”

“I have the weekend off, but I appreciate it,” Jimmy said, sniffling a bit. “She hurt me deep with her words so I want this to work. Let’s try it. When can she start?”

“I’ll contact my sister and have her get in touch with Priscilla. I’ll give her the warning that she’s a cranky damn teenager and might be highly offended. Let me work my magic, guys, and she’ll be there every day after school; I’ll take her myself, since I volunteer there as well. I will just change my hours so we’re there together and she won’t have a reason to back out.”

I approved of the plan, as did Jimmy. I don’t care if she’s going to be mad; let her be mad. I want this to work because something has got to change before this family implodes.

***

As predicted, Priscilla did not like the news of her job. I told her she didn’t have a choice, however, and told her that Molly was going to pick her up after school and see to it that she arrived. Since school starts Monday, we had to hurry her through the necessary paperwork before she could start, but it was worth it if you ask me.

“Have a good day at school!” I told Eliza as she made her way out to her truck. Priscilla was riding with her for the first few weeks since we’ve still rescinded her driving privileges. Both girls had early marching band practice and as such were out the door about the same time as me, since our schedule changed about five years ago. Now, we work the 7a-7p shift, which I like better. “See you when I get home from work.”

“Bye dad!” Eliza called, and it wasn’t long after that her truck roared off down the gravel.

I told Jimmy I was leaving, as he stood at the coffee pot, filling his mug for work. The lucky bastard doesn’t have to be in until nine, since he’s got the Monday through Friday spot these days. I don’t want his job, so I’m content with my three days a week and every third weekend schedule.

I hadn’t even gotten out of the garage before my cell rang. Confused, I checked the caller i.d., automatically turning to head up the gravel when I saw Hollister’s name.

“Hey Coby. Damn truck won’t start again; could I catch a ride?” she asked and I laughed. It was time for a new truck, but she’s as stubborn as Eleanor and Hank.

“Sure. I’m almost there, actually. When are you going to get a new truck?”

“Never!” she declared, waving at me as I pulled into her drive. Randy was up tending to the horses, his favorite activity since he retired from the police force several years back. They now raise the horses that the mounted patrols in Omaha use. “Thanks for the lift, Coby. See you tonight Randy!”

He waved, as I turned around and let her call work that we’d be a few minutes late. It’s not a big deal, but it’s polite to tell them.

“So, a friend of mine says Priscilla is going to start volunteering on the pediatric behavioral unit at Children’s; what’s up with that?”

I nodded, slowing at the first of a couple blind intersections. “Punishment.” I recounted the talk we’d all had last week and Hollister nodded. “We have to do something and this was Molly’s something. I don’t know if it’s going to help or hinder, but I felt it was worth a try, at least. Jimmy was upset for three days after her comments.”

“Did you ever see what she was reading?”

I nodded, sighing as I pulled to a stop at the county road. “I did and it was all bunk. Some of it was from some religious extreme groups; others were just people spouting off things they have no idea about. But it was all bunk. I showed her some real sites, but she didn’t want to read them, believing hers to be right. I don’t know what else to do with her, so maybe thrusting her into the throes of it will be what she needs.”

“Good luck,” Hollister said, as the traffic cleared and I headed for the interstate. “How’s Jimmy doing otherwise?”

“He’s doing well. He has rough days when the humidity is high, but we keep the air on those days, so he does okay. I’m not worried yet and neither is his doctor, so that’s the main thing right now.”

We all know, of course, how dangerous COPD is; we treat patients with it all the time in the ER. But it’s one of those things that when it’s your husband or someone else you’re close to, you worry more.

“I agree and as long as he can maintain his lung function, that’s important as well. The newer meds are a lot better than they were around 10 years ago,” she told me as I pulled into the back lot at Creighton. The nice thing about working in the ER is that we don’t have to park where everyone else parks; we get parking closer to our door. “Well, shall we see what kind of day we have in store for ourselves?”

***

Over all, it wasn’t a bad day. No one died, which is always a plus, and no one came in as a patient that I knew or was friends with. Molly had Priscilla home by seven, in time for us to eat, and reported that while our daughter had been reluctant, she’d had a good day. Apparently, they were starting her off mild, so the big shock would come later. I really wish they’d given her the big shock right off the bat, but I guess I can’t be too picky.

“You know, you are technically punishing Priscilla for something you use to do,” Hollister told me on the ride home. I gave her a quizzical glance before I turned onto the gravel. “Well, at the risk of pissing you off, remember what you used to say about Jimmy’s meditations?”

I groaned; she had to remind me I was being a hypocrite, didn’t she? I mean, I kind of knew it already, but Priscilla is being so much worse than I ever was. I just kind of picked on Jimmy for meditating when things got hard for him to handle…and I thought it was a little silly. I never once doubted the validity of his mental illnesses.

“To be fair, I only doubted his meditation stuff; I never doubted his mental illnesses.”

“Fair enough. But you do realize how you sound when you do this to her, right? I mean, I doubt she’s aware of those days, but if she is, that might be part of her problem. She might know or have figured out that you’re being a little hypocritical.”

I sighed, because it was possible. We didn’t talk much about ‘those days’ with the girls since they were in the past and weren’t very happy days to talk about. But it was possible that we were overheard at some point or she’d inferred something from a conversation. I don’t think she’s done that, but this is Priscilla, so how knows?

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Coby,” Hollister said, as I pulled into her driveway. “I doubt that’s the case, but it was worth mentioning. Thanks for the ride! If I need a ride tomorrow, do you work?”

“No, I’m off tomorrow, but I’ll be up getting the girls ready, so holler if you need a ride. Have a good night,” I told her, as she hopped out of the truck. A blast of sultry August air rushed in and I thought about Jimmy. Hopefully, he’s mindful of the humidity tonight.

The drive home from there was quick and I hurried inside. The girls were home and Jimmy had supper in the oven.

“Go shower, then we’ll see how Priscilla’s first day went,” he told me, placing a kiss on my cheek. As our marriage goes on we’ve become less affectionate, so the kiss was welcome. “I made pizza.”

My stomach grumbled hungrily and I hurried through my shower. I felt gross after today, considering it was hot in the ER and we had a lot of very ill patients. I hate knowing I bring germs home, but there’s not much to be done about it, really.

“Okay, I’m ready for pizza!” I announced as I returned downstairs twenty minutes later. Jimmy laughed, placing the steaming food on the table. Eliza had the table set and Priscilla brought some breadsticks over. “It smells amazing!”

“It’s just pepperoni and beef, but I used provolone and mozzarella for something new.”

As we started eating, I wondered how to approach Priscilla about her day. After all, this is going to be a very touchy subject no matter what I do so I need to be careful.

“How was school ladies?” Jimmy asked, and I figured I’d let him go with it; he’s 10 times better at these things than me.

“It was fine. Band was kind of aggravating today, but otherwise I can’t complain,” Eliza said, shrugging. “We have an assembly on Wednesday next week about graduation stuff, too. I guess we’ll get our order forms and such for invitations and all that jazz.”

“Speaking of jazz, are you doing jazz band again this year?” I asked, swallowing another bite of pizza. Eliza plays trumpet and she’s amazing at it.

“I think so. Mrs. McCarthy wants me for lead trumpet again, so I probably will.”

“Cilla, are you doing jazz band?”

She nodded, wiping her mouth. “Yeah, I guess the trumpet section is short this year so I said I’d give it a try. Mrs. McCarthy says she thinks I can do it just fine, so who am I to argue?”

I bit back a reply, feeling Jimmy kick my shin. After some further small talk about the start of the school year, Jimmy asked the million dollar question.

“How is the hospital, Cilla?”

She shrugged and I waited for an answer. “It’s okay. Kind of dull and it smells like a hospital. It’s not as fun as Creighton, since I don’t really know anyone, but it’s okay. The kids all seem pretty normal so far, so I guess I’ll have to wait and see. But I like it.”

That’s a relief off my shoulders. I can only hope that she continues to like it, because this is meant to be a learning experience after all. If she’s happy so far, then I’m happy as well.

Nineteen

Priscilla is surviving her ‘punishment’, apparently. Molly makes sure that she shows up twice a week after school (well, after driver’s ed) and has her home by the time we’re ready to eat. I didn’t think it was making much of an impact on her until today, though, when she came home with a haunted look in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, surprised when she attached herself to my waist, crying. It’s not that she never cries, she just hasn’t cried on me in a very long time; I kind of missed it. Rubbing her back, I asked her again what was wrong. “Did something happen at the hospital?”

She nodded, and I was surprised to find Molly running in the back door. “I’m glad she came in here. I think her experience finally sunk in today. She got moved up to work with the more severe kids today and one of them had a serious meltdown. Hair pulling, screaming, yelling, pacing, the whole nine yards; the nurses finally had to sedate the poor kid, but Priscilla saw it all. Don’t take this the wrong way, but it was the same type of meltdown you used to have, Jim.”

I looked down at my daughter, who was clearly scared, and held her tighter. I never wanted to scare her, but maybe it was for the best. I guess it’s better for her to see someone have a meltdown like mine rather than see me. Sighing, I stroked her hair, wishing I knew what to say.

“Dad, I don’t know what happened today, but I don’t want to go back. If you guys want me to believe that what you go through is real, fine, I believe you. But please don’t make me go back!”

I considered her plea, figuring I’d have to sit down and talk it over with Jacoby. She’s only been doing this for two weeks and I don’t know exactly how long we’d planned for it to go on.

“Let me talk to Jacoby, okay?” I told her, and she nodded wiping her eyes before escaping upstairs. With a sigh, I ran a hand over my face and sank into a kitchen chair. “Who decided to move her up?”

Molly sat down with me, after getting a couple of glasses of water. “The director of the higher level program. My sister was a little nervous about it, given that Cilla’s only been there for two weeks, but we decided that for this to work, she had to get up to the higher level. She’s registered to volunteer for the next four weeks yet, so she’ll probably have to stick with it. But she’ll likely be bumped down; she wasn’t ready for that and a volunteer her age shouldn’t be in that area anyway.”

“I can’t disagree with that,” I told her, as the back door opened. Jacoby’s face suggested we should explain what was going on and I gestured to him to sit down. “Priscilla had a difficult experience at the hospital today.”

Molly brought him up to speed and I waited to see what he wanted to do. I want her to complete this experience, but I’ll understand if she needs a break.

“Can she take the rest of this week off and start up again next week?” he asked, his face thoughtful. “I want her to finish this experience, because this will be good for her. Just because she says she gets it now doesn’t mean she’ll stick to that. We said six weeks and I’m sticking to it.”

“I don’t know, Coby…a meltdown like that is scary, as you should well know. I think we’ve achieved what we set out to achieve.”

There was a moment of silence and I can almost bet my husband was counting to ten. This was his big thing, his way to make her realize that my mental illnesses are real. And as such, he won’t be happy at my suggestion that we let her go with a month left.

“I don’t know. We aren’t in the business of letting her off just because she doesn’t like something. If that was the case, she’d have dropped out of school by now. Just because she got scared at work today doesn’t mean we should let her off.”

“I can’t disagree. But you didn’t see the haunted look in her eyes, Jack. She was crying and this time, she meant it. Maybe we shouldn’t let her off, but we should consider giving her a couple of days before she has to go back.”

My husband seemed to consider that, but I think Molly made up his mind. She’s not afraid to disagree with people, but she agreed with me.

“Jim’s right, Coby; she needs a few days. You should see her right now, because I guarantee she’s not going to forget this for a long time.”

“Well, all right. She can go back on Monday, then,” he decided and I sighed with relief. “But she’s not going to get out of going the next six weeks. If need be, we’ll ask that her assignments be in less severe areas, or whatever the right words are.”

“I’ll see to it that she’s kept out of that area,” Molly promised, as the backdoor opened once again. Have I mentioned that I once thought about getting a revolving door installed? No, really! “Hey Liza, how was work?”

It’s after 2000 already? Wow, time flies when your kids are having problems.

“It was fine, but supper was super busy. What’s going on?”

I don’t know if it was right, but I felt Eliza needed to know. She said she’d go talk to Priscilla and begged off supper, since she’d eaten at work already. At this point, any supper plans were on hold anyway, though I’d had plenty of time to cook.

“Want to order out?” Jacoby asked, once Molly had excused herself. Naturally, I hadn’t used my time after work wisely, so there was nothing started.

“Sounds good to me. Pizza or what?”

We took time to decide, pondering take out menus, asking Priscilla what she wanted and finally accepting an offer from Molly; she’d bring us three specials (bacon double cheese burgers, fries, and a drink) on the house. I offered to pay numerous times, but she said no, it was on the house and I couldn’t argue with that.

Later that night, after we’d all gotten to bed, Jacoby and I laid awake. We’d both managed to snag tomorrow off, and we planned to enjoy it together. I had a check up with Dr. Sullivan in the morning and saw the chiropractor in the afternoon (and had therefore requested the day off), but outside of that, we were planning a nice relaxing day for ourselves.

“So, we’re going to garden tomorrow, right? There’s a cold front coming in tonight, so the humidity will be gone. The girls will be at school, so we’ll actually have time to ourselves for a change.”

“Don’t forget I see Dr. Sullivan in the morning and the chiropractor in the afternoon. But in between, I intend to do yard work and gardening. Do you want me to mow tomorrow?”

Jacoby nodded, snuggling into my side. “I think you’d better…otherwise, we’re doing to need a machete to get through the yard,” he laughed and I joined in, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

There were no words needed after that, as he attacked me hungrily, his nails racking my back. We’d have to keep quiet, but I had a feeling there was an amazing night ahead of me.

***

I was right about an amazing night! Not that I thought I’d be wrong, considering we know how to make a night amazing, but still. If the doctor asks why I’m waddling, I’m going to have to think quick: am I honest or do I make up an excuse? Not that we can’t do that stuff but even at my age, it’s embarrassing to admit to the doctor that I’ve had mind-blowing sex with my husband.

What I am pleased to talk about with the doctor is that I have had no breathing problems since my last check up. I mean, yeah, I’ve had a couple of days where I was a little short of breath, but nothing serious and nothing that required more than a quick couple of puffs on my rescue breather. Hopefully Dr . Sullivan will be pleased with me, because I really don’t want to take any more medication.

“Jimmy?”

I followed the nurse back with Jacoby (because of my short term memory problems, he has to come along) and settled into the exam room. Thankfully, most of the clinics have been remodeling over the last several years and have done away with the awful orange and green rooms of the 70s; now, everything is a nice neutral white or beige.

“How have you been feeling since your last check up?”

“Pretty good, actually. I haven’t needed my nebulizer and I only needed my rescue breather once or twice.”

Jacoby nodded to indicate that my information was accurate. I hate that he has to do that, but if I want to have a good appointment, I have to be accurate.

“Great. Let’s get your vitals and then the doctor will be ready for you.”

An hour later it was all over. I’d passed the important tests with flying colors and had my COPD declared under control. It’s a good feeling knowing that a potentially deadly disease is under good control and I am in no danger of dying right now.

“Well, this was a good visit and you’re good now until next year,” Jacoby said, smiling as we got into his truck. “I think we should celebrate! Let’s go out for dinner and then do some shopping. We haven’t really bought ourselves anything of late, since we were busy getting ready for school.”

“Can we go to Famous Dave’s?” I asked, as my husband merged into traffic. We were making good speed down Dodge when Jacoby started to slow. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m pulling over,” he announced and then I saw it: an accident scene and we have to respond. I grabbed our stethoscopes and badges (we keep these items in both trucks, just in case) and bolted out as soon as it was safe to do so. “We’re paramedics and we’re here to help!”

We ran toward the intersection of 17th and Dodge, quickly counting the cars involved. “I’ll take the third car.”

I ran toward a small yellow car and started assessing the driver while someone else phoned 911. I couldn’t do much, but I did what I could, writing down the person’s name and vitals on a small notepad I keep in my pocket.

“You’re going to be okay,” I assured the passenger, taking her vitals. I smelled smoke and realized, a bit belatedly that the car was on fire. “Jacoby! We need to get these people out of here now!”

He didn’t question me, just helped me get the doors open. “You and you! Get over here!” he shouted, pointing to two different bystanders. They hurried over and knelt where he indicated. “Hold her head and don’t let go. Don’t move it and don’t let her move it. You’re her neck brace!”

The strangers nodded, as we got the driver out. I know a hot street in Omaha isn’t comfortable, it’s better than being in a burning car. We’d moved the occupants as far away as we could into the shade and away from the burning vehicle, in case the car exploded.


“You!” I shouted, coughing a bit. I covered my mouth with my shirt and helped get the driver out. “Over here now! Hold her head still and don’t let her move it. You are her neck brace!”

Thankfully, both seemed able to follow instructions. Neither protested as I gave them stern instructions, moving the driver to the sidewalk for the time being; I could hear sirens in the distance and hoped help was coming.

“I’m a nurse!” a voice shouted and I looked up, grateful for more help. “What can I do?”

“This car is on fire, and we need to assess—the others in the vehicle there,” I said, panting a bit. Together, we ran for a blue car wrapped around the stoplight and I sighed. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.”

“I’m a paramedic!”

Sean? I looked up and waved my boss over, glad to see him. He helped us with the four occupants of the blue car and then he saved our lives.

“Get down!” he shouted, and then we heard a boom. I had dived partially under the car and felt the ground shake. When it seemed safe, I looked up, realizing that the yellow car had indeed exploded. “Is everyone all right?”

“I’m good,” I reported, standing on shaking legs. I spotted Jacoby waving at me with his left thumb up, so he was okay as well. “Are the victims from the yellow car okay?”

Our volunteers gave thumbs up as well and I relaxed. “Okay, ambulance is here, guys. Get ready to transport.”

From there, I was on autopilot. It took about 45 minutes to get everyone into an ambulance and on their way to either Creighton or UNMC.

“Thanks for your help,” I told the bystanders, as we all sat on the curb, waiting to get checked out. It was standard procedure after an event like this and there was no point arguing it. “You did a great job; can we get your names?”

“No need to thank us,” the woman said, accepting an alcohol wipe from one of the medics that had just arrived. “We were glad to help.”

“Still,” Jacoby said, standing; he’d go first, apparently. “We’d like to at least let the victims know who helped if nothing else.”

“You’re all going in to get checked, especially you Jim,” Hollister informed us, giving me a hand to stand. “We’ll see to it you all get back to your vehicles. If you’ll give me your keys, I’ll see to it they’re all locked and out of traffic.”

It took a few minutes but finally, we were on our way. This is standard procedure, but it worried me for some reason. Things were going well and I didn’t want to get any bad news. Sean squeezed my hand and smiled to assure me, but I couldn’t help the nervous smile I shot him. I felt like something was going to go wrong and I couldn’t shake it.

Twenty

Thankfully, we all checked out fine. Everyone had a few minor scrapes and cuts from the exploding car, but nothing serious. I think the worst ‘injury’ was a cut on Jimmy’s arm that required a band-aid. He’d admitted to me, once we were back at the car that he’d had a sense of foreboding, but even his lungs were okay, despite the smoke they’d been exposed to.

“Well, shall we head to eat now?” I asked and Jimmy nodded, as I moved into traffic once again. The accident scene was clear now and only a few scorch marks on the pavement indicated anything had been amiss. “You okay? You’ve gone quiet on me.”

He yawned and I smiled. “Just tired, honestly. I’m glad my feeling of foreboding was wrong for once, you know? I’m also glad that everyone is going to make it, even if there will be some lasting injuries; at least no one died. On to lunch!”

I laughed, as he took my hand and kissed the back of it. Through the years, intimacy has leveled off a bit, which I’m told is normal. After all, we got married when Jimmy was just 19 years old. Now, he’s 47 and we’ve been married 28 years, so it’s understandable if we don’t want to be intimate all the time.

“So, what are you going to order?” I asked, searching for a parking spot. Naturally, we’ve delayed dinner to the early part of the afternoon, so that means everyone is down in The Old Market eating. “I think I want brisket and chicken.”

“I can’t decide,” Jimmy admitted, stroking his chin in thought. He knows darn good and well that turns me on and right now, I’m trying not to look at him. “What? Can’t a guy think?”

I squirmed, as I pulled into a spot and grabbed some quarters for the meter. “Sure…but not when I’m watching!”

Jimmy laughed, and continued his motion, causing me further discomfort. This, of course, caused my husband further amusement, as he got out of the truck and followed me down the sidewalk. We linked hands and he placed a kiss on my cheek.

“I love you, you know that? 28 years of marriage and we haven’t really lost the spark.”

I saw someone grimace (yes, the old prejudices are still around) but I ignored it. I simply kissed my husband and then held the door to the restaurant open for him. He’s right about not really losing the spark, which is nice. I know some of our other married friends (gay and straight) complain about the lack of intimacy in their lives while Jimmy and I are still going strong (I know what I said earlier, but we’ve only lost a bit of the spark). Despite all of the problems and unhappiness we’ve had over 28 years of marriage, we’re still good in bed.

“What can I get you to drink?”

We placed our orders and then settled into looking at the menu. I know that Jimmy has some worries yet about his health, but I was hoping that today’s check up would put him at ease. Instead, he seems more uptight than usual and I don’t think it’s anything to do with the accident scene.

“So, what’s up? You got a good health report, we saved lives, and now we’re going to have some ‘us’ time, which we’ve been short on lately. So what’s bothering you?”

Jimmy shrugged, as our drinks arrived. We put in our food order and I waited for an answer; I can tell when something is bothering my husband and now is no exception.

“I don’t know, really,” he admitted, shrugging. He sipped at his raspberry ice tea and then twirled the ice around a bit. “I mean, there are no difficult anniversaries this month and I’m doing better I think with your mom and Hank. Ophelia is in a better place now and I’m doing better with that as well. You’re right that I got a good health report, etc., and I should be happy. But I don’t feel happy like I should.”

I knew we were going to have these days, considering his depression. But I had thought he was making good progress since we got home from California and got over that little drinking hump. In fact, I’ve seen no evidence of cravings since then, which pleases me. In any case, I need to proceed with caution here, because I don’t want to set him off and make things worse.

“Well, do you need to see—“

“I already made an appointment. I go in on Saturday morning at 10, since that’s all she had,” he said, and I nodded, relieved. I hate suggesting his counselor, but sometimes, it’s the best I can do. “I guess this is just par for the course with my depression, huh?”

I nodded, squeezing his hand as we fell silent. I know that he’s really struggled with his depression with all the loss we’ve suffered of late and I want to help him. It’s just that he’s hard to help when he gets like this and I’m kind of at a loss.

“You know what? After we eat, before we set out on our afternoon to ourselves, I want to do something,” I told him, an idea suddenly coming to me. My husband looked confused and I grinned. “Just leave it to me, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, drawing it out a little. I have had some wild, crazy ideas in the past but usually they pan out. “What are we going to be doing, exactly?”

“That’s between me and myself and I,” I told him cryptically, causing him to grimace. “Oh come on! It’ll be fun!”

He simply shook his head, smiling at the waitress as she brought our food. The idea was taking shape, however, and all I needed to do was pick a location to pull it off. I know he’s down right now, but I am determined to bring him back up and since it’s the middle of the day on a school day, I know just what he needs.

“So where are we going again?” he asked, once we finished eating. We’d sat and talked for a bit to settle our food, since I didn’t need us getting sick when we’re having fun. “There’s really no shopping if we walk this direction in The Old Market.”

I just smiled, as we crossed Dodge at the light and continued on our way. Once we’d arrived at our destination, a park with beautiful trees and lots of walking paths and a pond, I walked up to the sno-cone stand.

“Two pieces of wax paper please,” I said, figuring we could get a treat when we were done.

“Coby? What are we doing?” Jimmy asked, still frowning. This had better cheer that man up.”Wax paper? Oh you’re not suggesting…”

“I am. This has always been fun for us, Jimmy and now is no different. I know that you’re upset and depressed, but I want you to smile a little, honey.”

He shook his head as I handed him his piece of paper, making my way over to two very large, aluminum slides. The Gene Lehaey Mall is well known in Omaha for these slides and they are fun for people of all ages.

“Well, you stand there and pout and I’m going to have some fun,” I told him, placing my paper square on the slide. I carefully sat down while he perched himself over on the steps and faced away from me. He used to take pictures of me doing this, but he hasn’t touched his camera in months. “Come on, Jim!”

I leaned back a bit, lifted my legs and went flying down the slide. Okay, it hurts a bit more when I fly into the sand than it used to it, but it was still fun. I stood up, brushed myself off, and went back for another try. I noticed that Jimmy seemed to be crying, which depressed me; we’re here to have fun!

“Jimmy, come on! Just one time!” I begged, heading down once more. I managed to get my feet down to stop me this time and had a more successful and less painful landing. I walked over to him, as he now had his knees drawn to his chest and his shoulders were shaking. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer, as I put an arm around his shoulders. I tried to think if he’s done this activity with Hank, but he hasn’t. We did bring mom here a few times, but she only went down once.

“Hey, come have some fun, okay? Or, we can go shopping.”

He just sniffled and kept his face hidden. We got a couple of looks from passersby, but I ignored them.

“You don’t have to fly off like we used to,” I reminded him, mindful of his back. He’s having more problems with it again, so he’s flying more and lifting less. “Just go down once to remember how much fun it is.”

He ignored me, however, and I felt at a loss. I have no idea what’s wrong, other than this is part and parcel of depression.

“Jimmy, come on honey. I came here so we could have some fun, cheer you up a bit; what’s the matter?” I asked, though I was almost afraid to know the answer. His phone was in his pocket, so he hasn’t had any bad news that I know of. “Well, I don’t know what to do.”

Finally he lifted his head, drying his eyes. “I don’t know what wrong. I just felt like crying.”

With that, he stood up, took his paper and perched at the top of the slide. I don’t think his heart is really in it, but at least he was participating, I guess. I moved to take my spot in line, watching him go down, though he didn’t smile. I suppose that this was his way of ‘making me happy’, if you will. When he was done, he resumed his perch on the steps and I sighed, taking my turn.

“Well, shall we do some shopping?” I suggested, growing irritated with him. I know, I know, this is how depression works, but usually I can cheer him up! “If this isn’t much fun for you, like it always has been, then let’s go do something else.”

He didn’t say a word as he stood up and followed me back to the Old Market. I was surprised, though, when he waited by my truck, clearly expecting me to open it.

“Where are you going?” I asked, irritation clear in my tone of voice. “I thought we were going to shop the Old Market, since you know, we never have time for that anymore.”

“I want to go home.”

Or for god’s sake! I threw my hands in the air in frustration and unlocked my truck, handing him the keys. “I’m going shopping. You can sit here and pout.”

With that, I stormed off, leaving him to his misery.

***

“Jack?”

I turned around in the narrow aisle of a used bookstore to see my husband standing behind me. His eyes were red and his face seemed neutral.

“I’m sorry about the park. I don’t know what happened but I know I ruined your fun.”

Well, I wasn’t expecting this. I think as we’ve aged, Jimmy and I have gotten better about our fights. As I think I said once before, they no longer last for days at a time, unless we’re really going at it. Yeah, we have some really bad fights and have some long-lasting ones, but overall, we apologize quickly.

“I’m glad you decided to come shopping,” I said, drawing him into a hug. If he’s apologized and doesn’t know what happened, then I’m not going to drag things out. “Apology accepted.”

He smiled, though I could tell he was still upset about something. He has these moments when he has a memory or flashback or something and gets upset but can’t verbalize what’s wrong. From the haunted look in his eyes, I’m betting he’s had a memory or something that spooked him.

“So, what kind of books are you looking for today?” I asked him, trying to get away from the uncomfortable subject.

“I don’t know. I think I’m just going to browse and see if something catches my eye,” he decided and I smiled, placing a small kiss on his cheek. We are careful of our affection in public, but that doesn’t mean we can’t steal a kiss here and there. “Mind if I take off to browse?”

“Go for it. We’ll meet up at the entrance when you’re done,” I said, grabbing a couple of books from the shelf. Jimmy nodded and took off, making me wonder how the remainder of our day was going to go. If he stayed happy things would be fine and I found myself hoping he’d stay happy; I don’t like dealing with his down moments and they seem to be more frequent of late. “Please stay happy, please stay happy, please stay happy.”

I got a strange look from another customer but I ignored it. I’m allowed to chant to myself in public, right? Well, I am. Either way, I want Jimmy to stay happy, no matter what. He and I finally have a day to ourselves and I want us to enjoy it.

Twenty One

I’m sure Jacoby thinks I’ve had one of my moments, but it’s not that. I don’t recall having a disturbing memory or flashback; I was just met with the overwhelming urge to cry. I felt bad for my behavior and while I know all is forgiven, I think I’ll suggest a second trip to the slides.

“Hey, Coby, when we get done shopping, want a re-do on the slides?” I asked, as we paid for our books and headed out into the surprisingly cool July afternoon. Storm clouds were building to the west and I thought I detected just a bit of humidity. I’ve learned to carry the mask with me and I checked that it was in my back pocket now and was satisfied that I had it.

He smiled, linking hands with me as we walked down the street. I love these moments when it’s just the two of us, out walking like this. I know we both have a few more stores to visit, but Jacoby is walking back toward the slides. I have a feeling I know what’s going to happen.

“All right, Slim, it’s on!” he declared a few minutes later. He handed me a sheet of wax paper and then grinned. “Best of four and the loser buys snow cones.”

I shook his hand, grinning. “It’s a deal.”

The slides were empty right now, which made this easier. We both settled on top of a slide and I counted down.

“Ready, set, go!”

We both took off, flying for the bottom of the slide. I laughed as I landed in the sand, which isn’t quite a pleasant as it was a few years ago.

“I got the first one,” I told him, as we headed for the top of the slide. “Good luck beating me. I think you’re going to owe me a rainbow snow cone!”

“Good luck, Slim!” he declared, counting us off.

I beat him once again, laughing as he rubbed his sore back. He knows to stop at the bottom, but he never learns. Even stopping before I landed in the sand, I got to the bottom before he did.

“Dam you, Slim!” he shouted, shaking his fist at me. “You up for two more? I know you have a touchy back and all.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Looks like you’re the one with the touchy back,” I mocked him, settling onto my wax paper. “Ready?”

“Go!” he shouted.

Once again, I put the brakes on just before he got to the bottom. I think he needs a new sheet of paper, but damned if I’m going to mention it to him.

“That’s three! You gonna bother with four?” I teased him, blowing him a kiss while I was at it. “I mean, you’re losing miserably, after all.”

He flipped me off, still rubbing his back. “Fuck you, Slim.”

“Not in public, Jack.”

We set up the final run and I laughed as I beat him for the fourth time. At least this time, he remembered to stop before he landed in the sand.

“I hate you,” he told me, as we moved toward the snow cone stand. I laughed, looking over the flavor choices, as he pulled out his wallet. “A large rainbow snow cone and a large cherry snow cone.”

With our treats in hand, we resumed our shopping, enjoying a chance to be together just the two of us. We love our kids, but we still need our time and now that those two can take care of themselves after school, we can do more stuff like this.

“So, what should we do after we finish eating?” I asked, as we moved back into the main part of the downtown. Rush hour was getting started and I was surprised to find it was nearing five already. We’d spent the entire day in town without even trying. “It’s close to five so we should probably hang out until rush hour clears.”

“I agree. We could just wander, if your breathing is okay,” Jack suggested, scooping some of the red ice into his mouth. The way that spoon is lodged in there made me want to take him right here and now. “Not in public, Slim.”

I laughed, bits of ice spraying from my mouth, as we entered the Old Market passageway. I knew we were heading for the sculpture garden and I was right. This, of course, is a place for photo ops all sorts and I wish I’d grabbed my camera.

“We should’ve grabbed a camera,” Jacoby lamented, almost reading my mind. “You should get your camera out when we get home; get come candids of the girls.”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” I confessed, admiring the many different flowers that grew here. This garden is always so amazing. “I haven’t taken pictures in a long time. After Hank died and then your mom, I lost my inspiration, but you’re right. When we get home, I’ll dig it out and see what I can do with it.”

***

“Is dad taking pictures again?”

I ignored the murmurs of my girls, as Jacoby grilled and I wandered the yard with my digital camera. This is one of those super nice ones, with the different lenses and great zoom and quality of pictures. I zoomed in on a rose and captured a bee taking the pollen from it, smiling when I reviewed it. The problem is that, eventually, I have to offload this memory card and I know there are pictures of Hank and Jeanette on it.

“That’s awesome, dad,” Priscilla said and I turned to see her looking over my shoulder. “You’re a great photographer.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling as I hugged her. This is a rare nice moment with her and I’m not going to ruin it. “Do you want to take some pictures with me?”

“Sure,” she said, grinning. She ran inside to grab her camera (we spoiled the girls with identical cameras to mine last Christmas) and soon, we were wandering the yard, discussing various pictures we wanted to take. “Look dad!”

I looked up, following her lens to see an eagle soaring overhead. Multiple clicks from her camera had me on edge, waiting to see the results.

“Those are amazing,” I said, once I got to review to final product. “Great shots!”

She grinned, as we continued to wander the yard. “Do you think you’ll ever take down our playset?”

I shrugged. “We might, we might not. We’ve not really had any problems with it and it’s well made. You two have out grown it, yes, but we were able to replace the kid swings with a swing that we can all sit on at different times. So, I don’t know.”

“I like how the sunlight is playing shadows on it,” she remarked as we moved around the monster structure. It had been a gift on her first birthday from our family and friends and a total shock to us. Sneaky Hank had had it set up without our knowledge, but we loved it. It was solid wood, well cared for (we had it treated yearly) and as I said, we managed to get a swing that seats three put on it. Most of the toys are gone, the sandbox abandoned, but we still get some use out of it. “Look at that shadow.”

The sun was coming through the trees just right to make the shadow of a leaf on the slide. We both photographed it and then looked up as Jacoby called to us.

“Supper’s on!”

We made our way to the porch, where we had a picnic table set up, eager to eat. The humidity had kindly held off, so I didn’t have to wear my mask right now.

“All right, steak, medium well,” he said, and Eliza raised her hand. “Medium well, more well than medium, Priscilla. Jimmy, medium well and myself, medium rare.”

Eww. I think his steak is still mooing, which is gross.

“Potato packets with names on them,” he said, using tongs to deliver the foil wrapped packets to the table. “And we’re ready to eat!”

I cut into my steak, grinning at how tender it was. I dipped it in steak sauce and groaned at the first bite.

“Well done, Jack!” I said, after swallowing. “That’s one of the most tender steaks yet.”

“Yeah dad, it’s really good!” Priscilla gushed and I smiled. She was on good behavior today, which on the one hand worried me, but on the other, I wasn’t going to question it. “This is great.”

We lapsed into silence, then, busy eating and I smiled. I had my family around me and I wouldn’t trade this for the world.

***

I don’t understand why graduation has to cost so much. Oh my god, we just got the listings for all the different things that we need to order and wow; we’re going to go broke! The problem is, I don’t know how many people we want to invite to the party. Are we having it here? In town? In Omaha? There are so many questions and so little time to answer them in. It’s October now, nearly Priscilla’s 15th birthday, so we have to hustle on this.

“Eliza!” I called up the stairs, watching her bedroom door. She’s got the day off work, which is unusual for her on a Saturday, so we’re going to take advantage of it. “Come down here!”

She opened her door and groaned. “What? I’m doing homework!”

I didn’t want to interrupt that so I had a little debate in my head. “When you’re done, your dad and I want to go over graduation stuff with you.”

“Fine,” she said and shut her door once again.

Teenagers, I tell you.

“While we’re waiting for her, let’s make the family list at least,” Jacoby suggested, settling his laptop at the kitchen table. “So, we’ve got your folks, your sisters and their families, my aunt and uncle, Matt and Val and family, Johnny and Lacey, Zach and Gena, Brian and Michelle and family, Leana and Adam and family. We should probably invite Ryland and Ella as well, since they’re neighbors. Anthony and Annie and their daughter, Hollister and Randy, Sean and Aaron and their daughter, and I’m sure Eliza will have a long list of friends. Who else?”

I tried to think who we’d missed but really couldn’t think of anyone. I don’t really talk to my extended family, after some comments were made about Jacoby and I and our children, so they won’t come. I gave it some more thought, then came up with some names.

“Rochelle A and Racheal from work should come. So should Dr. Mathias. Uhm…Shelly, from Dr. Mathias’s office. Hrm.”

“We’ll think of more people as time goes on. I’m sure she’ll want to invite some teachers, too,” he said, typing a few more names into the document. “I just want to make sure we order enough invites, that’s all.”

I nodded, standing. “Want anything?” I asked grabbing a glass. Jacoby requested a pop, so I grabbed him a Pepsi and poured myself a glass of milk. I hoped he wouldn’t pick up on my melancholy mood, and so far, so good. “We’ve got senior pictures done, we’ll get this stuff ordered in another week or so and then what?”

“We plan the food, figure out a location, and then we wait,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “But we’re doing fine for time so far.”

I nodded, sipping at my drink. I was excited for my daughter, because I never got to graduate from high school, but I was sad, too. Hank, Eleanor, and Jeanette should be here for this. They should be able to see their granddaughter graduate and start college, but they won’t get that chance. I excused myself from the table, since Eliza would be a while and holed up in my office; I needed time to calm down before I had another breakdown.

Twenty Two

I never realized how many people we knew until we had to invite them all to graduation. Eliza did finally get us a list of her guests, which include friends and teachers mostly. In the middle of planning graduation, we’re also planning Priscilla’s birthday party, which is going to be a small affair. Randi will sleep over and we’ll have the neighbors over for a BBQ. Jimmy’s parents will send a gift as usual (there’s no point them flying out for this), and come on her 18th birthday instead.

“Cilla!” I called, standing at the bottom of the stairs. She’d finished her volunteer work a few weeks ago and now came home directly after driver’s ed. I’ll be glad when that’s over, though I’m not ready for her to drive yet. “Come here!”

I swear, even though she’s thin like Jimmy, she thunders down those damn stairs; we’re going to need new ones before she graduates.

“What?” she asked, a little out of breath. Yep, it’s fall with three asthmatics in the house.

“What kind of cake do you want?” I asked and I actually saw an emotion other than annoyance or defiance on her face.

“Uhm,” she started, her voice shaking a bit. I realized then that I’d asked a very difficult question. Hank had always made her birthday cake without fail. Even though he’d passed away in July of last year, he’d had one made and in the freezer, ready to go, with specific instructions for the frosting. A friend of ours decorated the cake and Priscilla, while sad, was also quite happy. “Well, I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry, honey, I wasn’t thinking,” I told her, as she turned from me. She hates to be emotional around us and I gave her some time.

“I don’t think I want a cake this year, actually. Can you or dad just make some brownies or something?”

I nodded, watching her retreat upstairs. I felt like a total heel for making my daughter cry. Amanda Richards, a friend of mine, was very good at cake decorating and had done a fantastic job on the cake last year. But she wasn’t Hank, and I have a feeling Priscilla will never want cake again.

“Why so melancholy?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin before I realized it was Eliza talking to me. Jimmy’s late at work tonight, trying to get caught up after a week of vacation. If we don’t use all of our PTO in what Sean deems a ‘timely fashion’ you get what we call ‘forced’ vacations. Not that anyone minds, of course, but we still have a good time jabbing him about it.

“I just feel bad that’s all. I made your sister cry when I asked her what kind of cake she wanted for her birthday next week. You know, last year, Hank had it all ready to go except the frosting; Amanda took care of it, but this year is different. She wants Jimmy to make brownies instead.”

Eliza nodded, hanging her coat on a hook downstairs. “Well, brownies are good. I suppose dad could always write on them; it’s not that hard, is it?”

“No, I suppose not. How was work?”

“It was work in a bar. A couple of Molly’s recovering regulars came in and got pop and food, but otherwise, that’s about it. Not much goes on in a small town bar in Iowa,” she said and I had to smile. “Where’s dad?”

“Working late. He’s got a ton of paperwork to catch up on, the schedule needs to get out, and this is his only chance to do it. Apparently, according to Tony, he’s locked the door to his office and refuses to let anyone in or answer his phone.”

“Sounds like dad,” she said, laughing. Eliza seems to be handling this change of season best of my asthmatics, though I could hear a slight wheeze to her laugh. “No idea when he’ll be home, then?”

“None. I figured I’d cook for the three of us and he can eat when he gets home.”

She nodded then headed upstairs. I, on the other hand, perused the freezer for food. I’m in the mood for soup tonight and finally managed to find everything I needed to make chili. It’s always a hit around here and Jimmy made cinnamon rolls last night, so we’re set.

“That smells good.”

I have to quit getting lost in my thoughts; my poor heart can’t take anymore. I turned to see Jimmy coming into the kitchen, shedding the mask that has become a permanent accessory for him. His COPD remains under good control so far, which makes me happy.

“It’s the perfect weather for it,” I told him, as he lifted the lid on the soup pot to take a sniff. “I didn’t think you’d be home by seven.”

“Sean practically broke my door down to send me home,” he told me, with a bit of a laugh. We kissed and I smiled. “I was almost done, too, damn it. I told him I was coming in at six tomorrow and he said no, I was coming in at noon, because he can’t give me the overtime. The little bit that’s left I can finish at noon and then fly the remainder of the day. I hate short shifts.”

“Don’t worry about it, honey. Just sit down and have some food. Girls! Come on!”

“That was my ear,” Jimmy joked, rubbing the offended organ. “Did we get more shrill after we had kids?”

I laughed, as the girls took their seats, and Jimmy and I got condiments out of the fridge. We like our chili doctored, so the table is full of not only the food, but half the damn fridge as well.

“So, anything fun to talk about?” I asked, considering meal time is for such conversation. The TV is silent unless there’s bad weather and we have a weather radio for that now.

“Not really,” Eliza said, shrugging. “Band is going well. We’re playing some very complicated pieces for the Christmas concert, so I’m going to have to practice a lot. But otherwise, senior year classes are tough but not too bad, since I got all the hard credits out of the way last year. I’m ready to graduate and go to college.”

I’m not ready for her to graduate and go to college.

“Cilla? How about you?”

She shrugged, and it seemed she was still upset about the cake question. I understand that and I don’t blame her.

“It’s fine. I’m a freshman and the classes are kind of tough. I hate algebra. But I think I will join the cross country team. Running has really helped my lungs and I like distance running, so it seems like a good idea.”

“We’ll support you no matter what,” Jimmy reminded her with a smile. “Are you enjoying band?”

“That is more fun than it was last year, I admit. The pieces are really challenging, as Eliza said, but I’m really having fun. Mr. Talis challenges us, which is good.”

“Good. As long as you both keep your grades up, we’re happy. Don’t forget we have conferences at the end of the month, so I’d like to keep getting good reports.”

The girls nodded and I smiled. We place what I think is fair emphasis on grades in our house. We don’t make them a huge deal, but getting a good report card is important. We don’t hand out rewards, either, just lots of praise and…okay, okay, we help Eliza with her truck payments and insurance as long as she keeps her grades up.

“Did you get all caught up dad?” Priscilla asked, twirling her soup. She hasn’t eaten much and I hope she’s not still upset about earlier.

“Almost. Sean kicked me home around six thirty, and I don’t go in tomorrow until noon to avoid over time. But I got mostly caught up and should be done within an hour or so tomorrow.”

We were quiet after that and I did see Priscilla eat most of her soup and a couple of cinnamon rolls. I decided I’d have a talk with her after supper to make sure that everything was fine. I hate seeing my kids upset, more so when I caused it.

“What’s with Cilla?” Jimmy asked, as we cleaned up. We’d excused the kids from their chores to practice for band, since the pieces needed more time than usual. “She was awfully quiet tonight.”

“I kind of upset her. I asked her what kind of cake she wanted without thinking. She doesn’t want a cake this year and has asked for ‘brownies or something’ she said. I’m going to talk to her later and make sure she’s okay.”

A sour note rang out from one of the two trumpets working downstairs and I frowned. It was followed by a rather loud and angry ‘fuck!’ and I flinched. Someone was unhappy, though it was hard to pinpoint which girl it was. They sound very much alike and I have a hard time telling them apart when they aren’t right in front of me.

“Well, at least their practicing,” Jimmy pointed out, closing the dishwasher. He gave me a kiss and we moved into the living room. “Movie night?”

“Sure, why not?” I asked, going back out to make popcorn. I don’t make popcorn like my husband, but I make a decent batch. I figured he could have a beer, too, since he seems to have his urges under control for now. I don’t want a repeat of his drunken night, but I do trust him not to make such poor choices again.

“What do you want to watch?”

I thought for a moment, then asked him to find a comedy. We have plenty of movies, so he should be able to find something we both like. Just as he hollered out the title he’d chosen, the food was ready, and I hurried back in.

“Good pick,” I told him as our old favorite Mickey Blue Eyes started. We finally had to get a DVD copy a few years ago, when the VCR not only died, but it ate our VHS copy in the process. We were bummed, but we’re living with it. “Here’s a beer.”

“Thanks,” he said, then snuggled into me on the couch, clinking his bottle with mine. “Love you.”

“Ditto,” I said, hitting play on the remote. We both need a nice relaxing night and that’s what I intend for us to have.

Twenty Three

I don’t normally answer unfamiliar numbers on my phone but since this was local, I took a chance. The number seemed familiar, though I couldn’t put my finger on why.

“Hello?”

“Is this Mr. Shaddix?” a voice asked and I nodded out of habit.

“It is.”

“Sir, I wondered if you could come down to the police station in Missouri Valley and pick up your daughter, Priscilla?”

I nearly choked to death on the drink of water I’d taken and apologized for coughing in the woman’s ear.

“Excuse me? My daughter Priscilla?” Why the hell would Cilla be in police custody?

“Yes, sir. She’s being held here waiting for you to come get her.”

I glanced at the clock: it was just after six in the evening and I thought she was at Randi’s. They go to different schools, but sometimes, she’ll drive her truck home and then Marg picks her up. In fact, Marg had sent me a text about two hours ago stating that she had Priscilla from school and would make sure her truck got home later. The two should be wrapping up their evening right now so Cilla gets home for supper.

“Uhm, of course, I’ll be right down,” I stuttered, hanging up. I was furious and texted Jacoby that I had to run an errand before he got home. He wouldn’t really care, but he’d wonder why supper was only half done. I’d made pizza, but now covered it and shoved it in the fridge, then headed for my truck. “She’d better not be in trouble. This had better be a big misunderstanding.”

I mean, don’t all teenagers at some point have a misunderstanding that results in a trip to the police station? Maybe she was in a fender bender or something or witnessed an accident and had to give a statement. She’s not necessarily in trouble after all, this could all be innocent.

It takes about fifteen minutes to get into Mo. Valley and another five to find the police station from there. It’s not a big town, but there’s more to it than you see just driving through on Hwy. 30. If this is all innocent, I will be grateful to the police for taking good care of my daughter no matter the situation. I didn’t see any wrecks on my way in, but that doesn’t mean much; they get cleaned up pretty quick around here.

“Jimmy Shaddix to pick up Priscilla Shaddix,” I told the receptionist. I didn’t realize they had reception after five, but I won’t complain.

“One moment, sir,” she said politely, though she looked bored. She took her phone and dialed a number, spoke quietly, then gestured to an orange door directly to my left. “Someone will come for you shortly.”

“Thanks.”

I didn’t have to wait long before a uniformed officer came through the door. The station is small, of course, and it was a simple journey through a beige hallway to what looked like a conference room. My daughter was not in here and I was confused when I was told to wait. Bored, I glanced around the white walls wishing there was a window to look out. All I had for company was a buzzing set of florescent lights and a white conference table with a few scattered blue chairs on wheels.

“Mr. Shaddix?”

I turned to the beige metal door and shook hands with yet another uniformed officer. She gestured to the chairs and I sat next to her, wondering just what was going on. I was beginning to think my daughter was indeed in trouble and I wondered how best to punish her this time.

“I’m Lieutenant Marsha Valdex. I was the arresting officer when your daughter was pulled over.”

“Arresting officer?” I clarified, feeling my hands begin to shake. “What did she do?”

The officer opened a small file (mine is quite thick, and I hope hers stays small) and looked over the papers inside. Her face was neutral which I knew was a practiced looked, particularly when dealing with parents. I think I know, now, why I was brought to this conference room: if I’m going to explode in anger I can do it here instead of in front of my daughter.

“Priscilla was pulled over just east of West Harrison High School because she was swerving all over the road. Now, with a driver her age, that could mean a lot of things: reaching for something, texting, changing CDs, and many other innocent things. We still pull them over because they are endangering other drivers of course, and sometimes need a reminder to pay attention to the road and save those other things for a rest stop, gas station, etc.”

I nodded, considering we’d had this discussion with both girls quite often. I would be irritated, but understanding if this was the case; I bet it’s not.

“However, when I pulled her over, I recognized that she wasn’t doing any of the above things. My prepared lecture had to change once I got her out of the vehicle. She’d barely pulled over and it took her three tries to get to the side of the road. Once there, I had her get out and gave her a sobriety test. I don’t give a lot of these to fourteen year old drivers, but I could smell the alcohol on her. She failed the test with flying colors and so I brought her in for driving while intoxicated. Her truck was towed to impound and you will be able to get it back in the morning.”

I was fuming. My hands were clenched into fists and I couldn’t regulate my breathing. How could my daughter, knowing my struggles with alcoholism, put her life and others in danger like that?

“This is why we brought you in here, as most parents have a rather explosive reaction to this news. It is best to be calm when you go down to see your daughter. She will be fined and lose her school permit for 90 days.”

I was so mad I couldn’t even speak. I just paced the room, picturing steam blasting out my ears. I can’t believe my daughter has been arrested for drunk driving! She’s fucking fourteen years old for Christ’s sake!

“I’ll kill her!” I shouted, forgetting that I was in a police station.

“I don’t recommend murder, sir,” the officer deadpanned and I almost laughed. “I understand that you’re angry, and I’m going to come back in about five minutes to discuss her options for the night.”

“No, no, I want to get this over with. I’m sorry about threatening my daughter,” I apologized and the officer nodded, as we resumed our seats.

“It’s a normal reaction, sir, and we never take it very seriously. Lots of parents feel that way in this situation.” She opened Pricilla’s file once again and I sighed. “Now, because of her age, she’s being held here at the station, in another conference room. At this time, you can take her home or she can spend the night in juvenile hall sobering up. She would be released pending time before a judge tomorrow morning.”

I didn’t even have to think about it. “She’s spending the night in juvie, no questions asked,” I said and Marsha nodded. “What time do I need to be at the courthouse?”

“She will head over there at around ten, as that’s when the judge typically sees the cases from the night before.”

“I’ll be there. Thank you for calling me.”

I didn’t want to see Cilla right now, and told the officer to pass along that I’d see my daughter in the morning. I needed to control my anger and I needed the night to accomplish that. On top of that, I get to tell Jacoby about this, not to mention Eliza, and by then, Priscilla will wish she’d stayed in juvie a bit longer.

***

“She did what?!” Jacoby screeched, such that I thought I’d go deaf.

“She got pulled over for erratic driving. The cop figured it was the usual teen stuff, like texting. But she was drunk. She blew a .19 on the breathalyzer and she’s in juvie for the night. I called in late to work already and have to be at the courthouse by ten for the drunk tank line up.”

Jacoby was frantically texting with someone and I wondered who. Then, I realized he was probably texting his ex-wife; she’s a damn good lawyer.

“Marissa has drunk tank tomorrow. I told her not to go soft on Priscilla. Oh shit, Jimmy, what do we do!?”

“We punish her. She’ll probably have a fine to pay, she loses her school permit for 90 days, and she’ll probably have community service. But we have to make sure we punish her here as well. We take away her truck, make her ride with Eliza or ride the bus, make her do chores, but we have to make sure she gets that she screwed up.”

“By the time we get through with her, she’ll wish she stayed in juvie a bit longer.”

I nodded, taking my husband into my arms to calm him. He’s as angry now as I was when I got home from the police station. Our daughter, for all intents and purposes, has become a statistic. I don’t the exact numbers, but I think that it’s around 25% of teens that have tried alcohol by her age. I expect the kids to experiment (even if I don’t like it) but I never expected this.

“All our talks with her and for what? So she can find this out on her own? Yeah, this is real mature of her,” Jacoby scoffed as I heard the timer sound for supper. I grabbed a couple oven mitts and took the hot pan out, just in time for Eliza to get home from work. “Damn kid.”

“Uh oh, what’d Priscilla do now?” Eliza asked, kicking off her shoes. She hung her jacket up, then came into the kitchen, glancing between the two of us. “I gather something bad, by the looks of you guys.”

I nodded, sighing. “She’s in juvie for the night for drunk driving.”

“Excuse me?” Eliza asked, pausing with her left foot on the steps.

“You heard me.”

Her mouth popped open and I almost laughed. “Priscilla got it for drunk driving? Holy shi---bubbles.”

We know the kids swear we just don’t want them doing it around us. I contained my laughter once again, as Jacoby set the table.

“Yeah, she got it for drunk driving. She’s got a hearing tomorrow and she’s lucky it’s Marissa that’s doing the drunk tank line up. She won’t go easy on her, and neither will we. She’s going to get her truck taken away, she’s going to probably have community service and she’ll have to ride with you to school.”

“Joy,” Eliza muttered, escaping upstairs to change.

“You’ll give her a ride if we give you gas money,” Jacoby muttered but I shook my head. “The bus doesn’t even come out here anymore.”

“Then she’ll ride with Eliza and we won’t pay for gas. She can pay for her own gas.”

Our eldest reappeared with a frown set into her face, but didn’t press the issue.

“Well, as exciting as this is, I’m starving.”

We all sat down to eat, but there was a tension in the air that was almost palpable. I know it’s because we’re angry and Eliza’s annoyed, but I don’t like it. I don’t like it when my family is upset like this and I especially dislike it when my kids are in trouble. Tonight Jacoby and I get to decide punishment and I know that our lives are about to suck for a very long time.

Twenty Four

I am beyond pissed at Priscilla. I have to work tomorrow and I can’t just get the time off like Jimmy can. He’s mostly a desk jocky these days, though Sean does have him on flight duty from time to time. Wednesday is always his desk day, though. He helps in the ER, but he’s got to do the schedule for the flight crew among other things. I don’t really know all that he does, but he’s got a lot of meetings on Wednesday as well.

“Did you sleep last night?” Sean asked, as I stumbled into the ER barely able to function. I need coffee. Well, more coffee. I’ve already had one travel mug of the stuff and I need another one. Or five.

“Not really. But with enough coffee, I’ll be good to go,” I said around a yawn.

“Uh huh,” he muttered, clearly not impressed. “Right. You’re going to stay in today, Coby. I don’t want you out in the field with nothing more than coffee running through your veins. If I can arrange it, you’ll be off early tonight, too. I imagine your daughter kept you up?”

“Exactly. I’m still pissed, but I’m able to put it aside for work. Jimmy’s going to update me when he gets to work from her little hearing. I’m just…argh!”

Sean nodded, pulling me aside. He refilled my coffee, then rubbed my shoulders. “You need to calm down, Jacoby. I know it’s frustrating and everything else, but calm down. If you’re going work today and this weekend, I need you to focus. I need you to get some sleep. Today, I’ll be understanding and keep you inside, but this weekend, not so much, got me?”

I nodded, unable to argue. “I know and I’m sorry. I just don’t understand what happened, that’s all. The anger will wear off and I will sleep tonight, I promise.”

“After you yell at her, right?” Sean asked, with an understanding smile on his face. I had to nod, yawning again, and he patted my shoulder. “Don’t be easy on her.”

“I won’t. We’ve already worked out her punishment and I think it’s going to be fair even if she’ll hate us for weeks to come.”

“Well, you have to do what you have to do. In the mean time, I’ll have you check patients in, help with assessments and transport and try to get you out of here by three.”

I gave him a thumbs up and headed back into the ER bay, hoping we’d have a slow day.

***

Sean is a man of his word and I clocked out right at three. I had already spoken to Jimmy, and he agreed we’d talk to Priscilla when he got home around five thirty or six. She’d been given 100 hours of community service, six weeks probation, and had her school permit suspended for 90 days. In addition to that, Jimmy and I were taking her truck away (he’d picked it up from impound this morning and it would be parked at Tony’s house), she had to clean bathrooms for the next two weeks, and she had to come home straight from school the rest of the semester. She could stay for drivers ed, of course, but when that was done, she had to come straight home. If Eliza couldn’t bring her (she was in theater this semester, so had to stay late quite often) someone would come get her. The icing on the cake? She can’t see Randi for three weeks, as we’ve learned (through a somewhat forced confession to Jimmy) that Randi supplied the booze.

“You’re ruining my life!”

“Is that anyway to greet your dad when he gets home from work?” I asked, prepared for her wrath.

“Fuck off.”

She stomped up the stairs as I yelled at her that that wasn’t helping her case in any way shape or form. That got me a slammed door, which shook the house to its foundation just about. This poor house has withstood so many slammed doors over the years that I want to find the builder and hug him. For a house that’s 128 years old (well, the framework, at least) it’s doing well.

“Teenagers.”

I shook my head and settled to figuring out supper, since I was home before Jimmy for a change. I cook on my days off, but most nights, supper falls to my husband. You might remember his previous inability to cook? Well, a simple gift from Eleanor (via Hank) has completely turned him around. Her cookbook contains simple recipes that he learned from and has helped him move into more intricate cooking. We still stick with simple meals, but I’ve seen him do some amazing stuff over the years.

Now, I wondered if I should bother with anything more exciting than taverns. It’s simple and it takes about two pounds of ground beef for our little family and it reheats well. I have a feeling supper is going to be surly tonight for at least one person. The rest of us will be in similar moods, though I think I’m the angriest.

I set down the ground beef needed for taverns, then moved into my office. Jimmy had called his folks before the hearing to let them know what was going on and they were as shocked as we were. I’d called my aunt and uncle but knew they’d email, since they weren’t home when I called. I did tell them what was going on in the voicemail, but if they call I’ll be surprised.

“Oh child, what are we going to do with you?” I muttered, grabbing a small glass from the shelf above my desk. In my fridge I keep some hard liquor that Jimmy doesn’t know about and I poured myself a shot of whiskey now. It burned going down but it felt good. I didn’t want to get drunk; I just wanted a little something to take the edge off. Another shot and I felt a little better. “Now, to figure out what to do with Priscilla.”

***

I sat and brooded in my office until Jimmy got home around six, followed shortly by Eliza. I called Priscilla downstairs, but she ignored me, so I started cooking. Jimmy got her downstairs and while she pouted, at least she was at the table.

“How was your day Priscilla?” I asked, trying to spark some conversation at the table.

“Like you don’t know. Me with a bunch of common criminal teenagers is a great way to start my fucking day.”

“Language!” Jimmy admonished, snatching the swear jar. Priscilla flipped him off and he indicated the jar with two fingers; her fee was 50 cents and rising.

“Whatever. Community showers suck, the ‘house moms’ are nothing but yelling, screaming bitches and school sucked, too, once I actually got there.”

75 cents and climbing.

“So yeah, I had a great day. I have to do some stupid community service for something that’s not even my fault. I’m not doing the community service, either, so don’t force me. It’s fucking stupid to punish me when I wasn’t even driving.”

“But you were. There’s video evidence of it, so don’t bother getting out of this. You’ll serve your probation and your community service as directed by the judge.”

She shook her head, flipped us off again, and slumped down in her chair. We’d wait to deliver the rest of her punishment until Eliza was in her room, but I knew we were in for a fight.

“Well, I’ve got homework,” Eliza said, rinsing her plate and putting it in the dishwasher. I figured she was telling the truth, but she also sensed the tension and knew what we had to do.

“Me, too,” Priscilla said, standing in a huff.

“Sit down, young lady,” Jimmy said, sternly. I cleared the table as my daughter tried to get away. “Priscilla June Shaddix, sit. down.”

She jumped, unaccustomed to Jimmy’s growl and sulked into her chair once again.

“What?” she snapped and I shook my head.

“You have to know that you’re not going to go unpunished from our end,” Jimmy said, cool as could be. I was fuming, but I managed to contain it. “So, it’s only fair to know how we’re going to punish you.”

“Oh, great. Just what I don’t need.”

I stood up, fists clenched, but Jimmy got me to sit down. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret later, Jack.”

I think my daughter was scared for a moment, but only for a moment. “Fine. Now, you listen and you listen well, young lady, if you ever want to see the light of day again.”

She rolled her eyes but remained quiet. “What hell am I going to be doing?”

Jimmy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose; I’m waiting for him to explode. “We’re taking your truck away for starters. You owe me $75, by the way, for the impound fee. Then, you have to clean bathrooms for the next two weeks. Furthermore, you have to come home straight from school the rest of the semester. You can stay for drivers ed, of course, but when that’s done, come straight home. If Eliza can’t bring you someone will come get you. You are also barred from seeing Randi for three weeks, as we’ve learned that Randi supplied the booze.”

“I hate you!” she screamed, jumping to her feet. “I fucking hate you both! You’re ruining my life over something that I didn’t fucking do! Go to fucking hell!”

And she ran out the backdoor. We were prepared for this of course and we both jumped when the newly installed magnetic alarm started to screech. Priscilla just started to cry, heading for the basement while Jimmy shut the door and re-set the alarm. There’s a little button it that prevents it going off, but we’re not going to tell the girls that.

“What was that awful noise?” Eliza asked, appearing in the kitchen with a distressed look on her face. “I’m trying to study for a test!”

“Sorry, honey. Every time we go out for the next few weeks, there will be an alarm sounding on the door. It’s to keep your sister from sneaking out. You’ll also have to drive her to school the remainder of the semester.”

“Great. Well, let’s keep the alarms to a minimum, shall we? I don’t want to fail chemistry.”

Eliza returned upstairs and I sighed, figuring we’d better let Priscilla sulk a bit. Her trumpet was bleating angrily from the basement so at least we know she’s in the house. My phone ringing scared us more than the door alarm, actually.

“How did it go?”

“It’s your mom,” I told Jimmy, who nodded, keeping an eye on the back door. “It went about as we expected. She’s beyond angry, owes the swear jar over a dollar, plus she owes Jimmy for the impound fee. In short, she’s pissed.”

“I imagine she would be, but she’ll get over it. If this teaches her a lesson, then it’s worth it.”

The alarm sounded again, and she flipped us off, as Jimmy went running after her.

“What’s that screeching noise?” Barb asked as I hurriedly shut the door behind myself, stepping onto the porch.

“The alarm over the back door. It’s meant to be keeping her inside, but she’s taken off. Jimmy’s after her. Her truck is parked up the gravel about two miles, so she’s not going anywhere like that.”

“Call—the—damn—cops,” Jimmy panted, as he met me on the porch. “She—fucking—stole—my—truck.”

“Shit. Can I call you back, Barb?”

“Of course.”

I hung up and looked at my husband as though he was nuts. I mean, I know we’re having problems with her, but does she need to get arrested two nights in a row? He wasn’t able to verbally answer me, but the angry look on his face was enough.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“I’d like to report a stolen truck.”

Twenty Five

Am I bad dad for calling the cops on my daughter? Jacoby and I are on our way to Missouri Valley to retrieve her and my truck and I feel horrible. I mean, I reacted in the heat of the moment and now I’m not sure I made the right choice.

“You did the right thing,” Jacoby assured me, as we pulled into town. My breathing had regulated but emotionally I was unable to speak. “This is how she learns. How did she get your truck, anyway?”

With a sigh, I got out of my husband’s truck, wondering how much it would be to get mine out of impound. “She had a key. I don’t know how she got it, since I never gave her one, but she had a key. My keys are always with me, except when I sleep, so I’m not sure how she got a hold of it.”

“Was it a copy?”

I nodded, holding the door for him. I figured she’d be transferred to juvie again, and I wanted her home, so we could deal with her. I sometimes wish she could spend a night in real jail, but because she’s a minor, they can’t put her in the cells. No doubt, she’ll be in a conference room again.

“We’re here for Priscilla Shaddix,” Jacoby said and I realized it was the same receptionist as last night.

“One moment,” she said, casting a glance at me. I hope we don’t become regulars down here. Jacoby used to be regular down here, and I don’t want that title next. “Someone will come for you shortly.”

We waited only a couple of minutes before we were taken back to the same conference room I was in last night.

“She’s being held here because she’s a minor. Are you going to press charges?”

I hesitated and Jacoby looked at me. “I-I don’t know yet.”

The warden nodded, leading us to our daughter. She looked miserable and I could see she’d been crying. Now I really felt like a heel, but she stole my damn truck!

“Do you know where the truck is?” I asked, as Jacoby called to our daughter.

“Impound, sir. You can get it out any time.”

“Thanks. Is she free to go?”

“Since there are currently no charges pending, yes; if you decide to press charges, there will have to be a court date set up.”

I nodded, as Priscilla shot us death glares, arms crossed over her chest, as we all left the conference room. At least she wouldn’t be in juvie tonight, I guess, but we still had to put further punishment on her.

“Let’s go over and get your truck,” Jacoby suggested, once Priscilla was seated in the back seat. We’d considered going back to regular cabs on our trucks, but the girls still ride with us from time to time, so quad cabs are still our best bet.

“You owe me for this,” I told Priscilla, who flipped me off. “Careful, I’ll have your finger amputated.”

That didn’t do much good, considering she knows I’m bluffing. I’d never actually have her finger amputated, though it’s tempting. I’m kidding.

“It’s probably going to be another $75. Good thing we got paid today,” I muttered. It helped, too, that rent was in for the farm land and so we’re sitting pretty good again right now.

It took half an hour to get the truck back, but at least it was in one piece. I followed my husband and daughter home, wondering just how many times we were going to do this this year.

***

Needless to say, Priscilla was really unhappy when we barred her from seeing Randi for an additional week. We also confiscated her phone and blocked her wireless signal on her laptop. She can take her phone to school so she can call for a ride home, but that’s it. If she’s good for the next two weeks, she can have that and the wireless back. Tony has said we can store her truck up there until the semester is over, so that’s covered as well.

Me, though, I’m cool on the outside, panicky on the inside. I knew one of my kids would have the same problems as me, but I never wanted that to happen. They had seemed capable of avoiding my addictions, but now it seems Priscilla is getting started down a dangerous path. I needed someone to talk to and quickly dialed my mother. Considering she’s been where we are now, I hope she’ll have some answers for us.

“Mom?” I asked, once my mother picked up on the other end. I started crying, I couldn’t help it. “I need some help.”

“Let’s get on Skype,” she suggested and I nodded, hanging up once both web cams were on. “Now, what’s going on?”

“You know about Priscilla, right?” I asked, and she nodded, as I grabbed a tissue. “Well, we laid out her punishment once we were both home from work and had eaten supper. She hated her night in juvie and we thought that would help. But after we fought with her, she bolted out the back door. The alarm sounded and she went downstairs. I thought we were in the clear, but she bolted outside. She stole my truck and I called the damn cops on her!”

I was nearly inconsolable at this point and could barely hear my mother speaking to me. I was a horrible father and I had failed my daughter.

“Jimmy!”

I looked up at the screen, into my mother’s worried eyes and tried to compose myself. “I’m sorry, mom.”

She shook her head, her salt and pepper hair falling over her shoulder. “No, don’t be sorry. It’s important to remember that you and Coby have done nothing wrong. Your emotions are normal and this is what your father and I went through all those years ago. You think you’ve failed your daughter that you’re a horrible parent, but nothing could be further from the truth. She’s making her own choices and you have no say in what she does. What you need to do is be there for her right now. I know that she won’t listen to you, but you have to try. And in the end, whatever ultimate choice she makes, it’s her choice. But that won’t quell the guilt you’re feeling right now.”

I nodded, wiping furiously at my eyes. “But I don’t trust her to make these choices, because she’s making bad ones! I know we sometimes joked with the kids about making poor choices but now it’s for real. She’s making a bad choice and I don’t know how to show her that.”

“You can’t show her that, Jimmy. We learned that with you. But what you can do is love her and show her that she’s got a family that’s better than anything else in the world. She’s going to hate you for a while, but that just goes with the territory, sadly. But don’t throw her out, no matter how tempting it is. Get help for her now, before she does something stupid.”

“I fucking hate you!” Priscilla shouted and I heard her thunder up the stairs, causing me to shake my head.

“Well, she knows how to slam a door,” mom commented and I had to laugh. I know she said that on purpose to make me smile and laugh, and I know I needed it. It’s just that so little about this situation is funny. “I’m sure she’s accused you of ruining her life?”

“Yep. And she fucking hates us, as you heard just now. We really came down hard on her, though I don’t know if it’s doing anything. I still don’t know if I want to press charges for taking my truck or not.”

Mom nodded, her eyes kind but worried. She’s been here, done that and I needed all the support from her and dad I could get.

“What is her punishment?”

“We took her truck away and parked it up the road, she can’t see Randi for three weeks, as we’ve learned that Randi supplied the booze, no cell phone or wireless internet for two weeks, she’s lost her school permit for 90 days as part of her punishment from law enforcement, she owes me $150 for impound of both trucks, she’s got to clean bathrooms for two weeks. She also has to come home straight from school the rest of the semester. She can stay for drivers ed, and if Eliza can’t bring her someone will come get her. We thought it was fair and of course she disagreed.”

“She’s a teenager, honey, of course she disagreed. But you’re doing the right thing, Jimmy. I know you don’t think you are, but you are. Just try to get to her before you completely lose her.”

We were quiet for a moment and I wondered if I dared ask mom what was on the tip of my tongue. I didn’t know much about my teenage years and I wasn’t sure if mom wanted to relive them anymore than she already was. But yet, if she had some insight that might help us, I might be better off asking.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked, and I saw dad come and sit beside her. His hear had thinned and greyed of late, and I saw my follicle future.

“Well, I don’t know if I should say. I mean, it might bring up things you’ve tried to forget.”

My parents nodded, as Hamlet jumped into my lap. He’d been spending a lot of time in here lately and I wondered if it was the stress in the house. The silence descended upon us like bricks once again before anyone spoke.

“Well, what did you want to know?” dad asked, as if he was prompting a young child.

“I guess…what did you do when I really started going south? What can you tell me that will prepare me for the inevitable end my daughter is crashing toward?”

They were quiet again, glancing at each other and for the first time in a long time, I saw the guilt they carried. I knew, of course, that they felt horribly guilty for what happened with me; they felt they could’ve done more. I didn’t want to carry that guilt for years and years and I needed insight now.

“Well, this is where it gets complicated, Jimmy. You and Jacoby are doing everything right, even if you have doubts. But your dad and I…we floundered. We didn’t know what to do and we made the wrong decision. We threw you out, because we had two other children at home to worry about and we didn’t know what else to do. But before that, we got you counseling, we gave you plenty of chances to talk to us, we picked you up after arrests, everything we could do. Please, don’t make the same mistakes we did,” dad told me and I nodded, wishing I hadn’t caused them so much grief.

“I’m sorry for everything I did,” I muttered, feeling renewed tears. “I’m really, really sorry. I’m going to try so hard to turn Priscilla around.”

“Good luck and we’re always here if you want to talk,” mom said, smiling. “You need to get some sleep tonight, Jimmy, so you can think clearly. But you’ll know what to do and you’ll do the right thing when the time comes. We love you…”

“I love you, too,” I said, and clicked off. Mom was right that I needed to sleep. It was just after nine, but I had to work tomorrow, flying most of the day. If I’m going to fly, I need to be focused.

“Hey Jim,” Jacoby said, as I emerged from my office, still wiping my eyes. “Miss Delinquent is in her room for the night. Her window is alarmed and so are the doors to the outside, so she won’t get out. I’ve confiscated copies of keys for all of our trucks from her and searched her room; no sharp objects or anything are there.”

“Good. I’m off to bed; I’m exhausted. Don’t be up too late,” I said, kissing him. He nodded, as I moved up the stairs. I checked on Eliza, who was working on a paper and Priscilla, who flipped me off. “Sleep well tonight, honey.”

She said nothing as I shut her door and I had a momentary thought. Heading back downstairs, I told Jacoby to take all of our sharp objects and lock them up; I didn’t trust Priscilla and that hurt.

“Will do. Now get some sleep.”

I returned upstairs and settled into bed after taking my meds. I didn’t think I was going to sleep tonight, though, because there was far too much on my mind. I had to figure out how to save my daughter before she killed herself.

Twenty Six

Let me tell you something I have discovered about teenagers: when they want something back, they work very, very hard to get it back. Naturally, Priscilla wanted her phone, her internet and other privileges back, so she’s been very quiet the last three weeks. This worries me, but at the same time, I’m delighted.

Of course, Priscilla’s problems have overshadowed Eliza, which we didn’t want. She’s preparing for college and graduation and we should be helping her with that. Instead, we’re making sure Priscilla doesn’t get arrested or, worse, killed. Hopefully Priscilla will stay quiet and we can put the last few weeks aside and chalk them up to poor teenage choices.

“Dad?”

I looked over at the doorway to my office to see Eliza’s tall frame standing there. She looked nervous, which is unusual for her; she knows she can talk to me about anything.

“What’s up?” I asked, inviting her in. She settled onto the small couch in my room, rubbing her hands and licking her lips. “Must be pretty big if you’re this nervous.”

I tried to think if there was anything coming up at school that required a date, but couldn’t think of anything. If she’s dating she hasn’t told us, so maybe that’s the problem.

“I know Priscilla’s been bad the last few weeks, so you’ve needed to pay her a lot of attention,” Eliza began and I started to get an inkling of what she wanted. “I, uhm, tried to talk to daddy, but when I was done, he started to cry, so I came to you. I know the last few weeks have been hard on you both, but he seems to be taking it harder.”

I nodded. “What did you need to talk about?”

“Well, it’s time to order graduation invitations. My class ring is here and I need to pick that up tomorrow. But one of you will have to help me with the paperwork.”

Well, now I’m getting teary-eyed. When you have kids, you’ll understand the emotions. It cannot be time for my oldest child to graduate high school, can it?

“Uhm, well, sorry.”

“No, no, honey, don’t be sorry. Your dad and I are just emotional, that’s all. It’s hard for us to believe it’s time for you to graduate high school and such. If you ever have kids, you’ll understand, I promise. Of course we’ll help you with your paperwork.”

“Thanks,” she said, giving me a hug before leaving the room.

I sat there, contemplating things for a moment. I wondered how we ended up with the good kid, bad kid scenarios. I know that’s a terrible way to see it, but I can’t help it. When Eliza had her birthday a few months back, she got to do as she pleased with her money and gift cards. Priscilla, on the other hand, when she was finally allowed to open her gifts and cards from her cancelled 15th birthday, had to turn all the money over to Jimmy to help pay for impound fees. She also has a $350 fine to pay for DUI and Minor in Possession, not to mention the towing fee. We’re also making her pay Tony and Annie $20 a month for storage of her truck, since they’re driving it a couple times a week so it stays in good repair.

“Oh I don’t want my kids to grow up,” I muttered, wishing once again that my mother was here. I have no doubt she’d have some insight or a funny quip for me, but I’m again reminded that I am an orphan.

“Me either,” Jimmy said and I turned to the doorway. He had composed himself and regarded me with a sad smile. “But they’re going to grow up whether we like it or not. I told Eliza not to worry about the paperwork, that we’d get it done. I just can’t believe we’re about to have a high school graduate on our hands.”

“I know. But they were bound to group up sometime, I guess. Is this how our parents felt when we were getting ready for graduation?”

“I imagine so,” he said, and for a moment, I thought I’d dredged up a regret of his. His parents never got to attend any of his graduations from his GED, rehab, or college, but if he was thinking about it, he never showed any sign. “At least by graduating high school, it means we raised them right.”

I smiled, chuckling a bit. “In theory, at least, right?”

Jimmy nodded, then turned from my door. “We’d better go find Eliza and start that invitation list.”

With a sigh, I moved from my comfortable chair and followed my husband downstairs, hoping it was a short list.

***

A couple of days later I was making supper, waiting for Jimmy to get home. Priscilla and Eliza were upstairs doing homework, and for once things seemed to be quiet. I’d decided to make chili and cinnamon rolls and the rolls had just been iced when Jimmy walked in the door, a stack of mail in his hands. Before I could even ask what we’d gotten, I heard shouting up stairs. So much for a quiet evening, I guess.

“I fucking hate you! This is supposed to be the best year of my teenage life and you’ve ruined it. Why don’t you get your fucking shit together and learn to be an adult? Stop fucking up your damn life Cilla! And quit ruining my senior year!”

“Whatever. You’re just the one they spoil rotten. Oh, Eliza can have the nice truck, give Priscilla the shitty one. Oh, Eliza needs this or that, better give Pricilla the leftovers; must be nice to have all the nice new stuff in this fucking house while I get the scraps. Yeah, I fucking love you, too. Why don’t you just head to college now? It would make my life easier, that’s for sure. The hate is returned several fold dear sister. Maybe I’ll just fucking drop out of school and move out, then you wouldn’t have your senior year ruined.”

We both looked at each other and then hurried upstairs, ready to stop anyone from packing their bags.

“I hate you Priscilla! You’re the center of attention around here and I’m fucking sick of it! I’m supposed to be getting ready to graduate and go to college but our dads are too busy keeping you alive! I’m not looking for attention, but when I need it, I want it to be there. But no! You keep fucking up so they have to rescue you or pay you more attention. What the hell are you doing, Cilla? Thanks for ruining my senior year! Why don’t you go fucking live with Randi, huh? You seem to like her family more than ours anyway!”

“Maybe I will! Why the hell would I want to live here where no one cares about me? It’s all about Jimmy! No one gives a shit about me!”

“Is that how you see it?!” Eliza roared and I knew right then that she’d gotten Jimmy’s temper. She stepped closer to her sister and I ran to get between them. “For God’s sake, Priscilla, we could lose our father to addiction, lung disease or alcoholism; don’t you care?”

Priscilla just missed getting slapped thanks to me stepping in. I caught Eliza’s hand and glared at both girls. Jimmy reached us seconds later, hurt written all over his face, as he faced his youngest daughter.

“What the hell is going on here?” I asked, even though I’d heard the whole thing. Eliza retracted her hand and turned to leave, but Jimmy stopped her. “No one leaves until I get an explanation.”

“She’s accusing me of ruining her senior year! How the hell have I done that?” Cilla asked, waving her hand toward her sister. “Excuse me for making some mistakes! I wasn’t aware that she cared so much about school!”


“I’m trying to maintain my grades so I can get to college you dimwit! I’m sorry that you don’t give a shit about your grades but I have a scholarship to an art school and I can’t wait to go. If I failed any of my classes like you’re doing, I’d be in an awful lot of trouble. But you just keep doing things and rarely getting into any trouble. The last batch of problems notwithstanding you’ve done a hell of a job of hiding things from our parents.”

The look on Cilla’s face was priceless. I had no idea what was going on, but I gather we weren’t meant to find out.

“How could you?! I trusted you! You said you wouldn’t tell!” our youngest shouted, tears falling down her face. “You bitch!”

“Language!” Jimmy shouted, looking between the girls. “What’s going on?”

Cilla turned away and crossed her arms over her chest, clearly unwilling to speak. If my kids are keeping secrets from us, I’m not going to be very happy, no matter the circumstances.

“If someone would kindly explain what’s going on, that would be most welcome,” I told the girls, moving them into the living room. They flopped onto the couch as we settled into our recliners. Jimmy had grabbed the mail for some reason, and was quickly flipping through the stack. “Priscilla, are Eliza’s accusations accurate?”

She was silent, but the look on her face seemed to suggest that they were. I glanced at Eliza who certainly wasn’t shy and was happy to answer me.

“Yes, they are true. I didn’t say anything because she promised to bring them right back up. But she’s been failing since school started. Her teachers have sent notes home, but she always ‘loses’ them, and she gave them a fake phone number so they couldn’t reach you. I told her it was wrong, but she promised she’d bring her grades up.”

Why didn’t they just look us up in the phone book? We are listed…

“I suppose that explains this, then?” Jimmy asked, holing up a letter. I could see it was from the school and my suspicions were confirmed when Priscilla tried to snatch it. While I unfolded and read the letter, Jimmy refereed a renewed fight between the girls.

“Well this is interesting,” I said, gaining the attention of my family. Jimmy got the girls to sit down and all listened as I read the letter. “Dear. Mr Shaddix. I have Priscilla in my algebra one class and while she shows great intelligence, she is failing my class. I have attempted to work with her but she is resistive. At present, she is behind on four assignments and one test. She is disruptive in class, often speaking out of turn, picking on other students, and using her phone. I have tried to contact you on this matter, but all emails have bounced, the phone was disconnected, and Priscilla refused to give me your work number. Please call or email me to schedule a conference.”

It was signed by Mrs. Angela Meyers and I sighed.

“She’s lying!” Priscilla shouted, as she walked over to me. She tried to take the letter, but I got it folded and placed in my pocket before she could do so. “She’s a liar! I’m not even in her class!”

“Sit down,” Jimmy growled, grabbing his laptop. Have I mentioned that we can check our kid’s grades online these days? We’d checked them a couple of weeks into the new school year, and since everything was fine, we hadn’t checked recently. I guess we should’ve checked a bit more often. “Let’s see…Priscilla Shaddix. Yes, here you are. Your grades look…horrible. Jacoby, what’s the date on that letter?”

I glanced at the upper right corner, searching for the date and read it aloud to Jimmy: “October 21st, 2028. Why?”

“According to the school’s website, these grades were updated this afternoon at 1530. This says Priscilla is passing band, driver’s ed, writing I, and reading I with all As. But she’s failing math, science, Spanish I, and even PE. I didn’t know you could fail PE. How are you failing PE?”

“Those grades are wrong!” she shouted, but I wasn’t convinced. I trust the website and I trust that the teachers are telling the truth. I know conferences are coming up soon, but we rarely go, since the girls are usually straight A students.

“Jimmy, check Eliza’s grades, please.”

Eliza didn’t look nervous at all as her father typed her name into the search box and we waited for the page to load.

“Eliza Shaddix. Looks good. Her grades haven’t changed much since school started; straight As, as always,” he announced proudly, and our daughter smiled. She works hard on her grades and it pays off. “I think it will be best if Jacoby and I set up a meeting with Mrs. Meyers and we’ll go from there.”

I agreed and said I’d call first thing in the morning. Tomorrow is Friday, meaning we likely won’t be able to get in until the next week during conferences, but something has to be done. If Priscilla is failing, which I do find hard to believe, there will be consequences and she won’t like them. Given that she’s already in a lot of trouble, this had all better be a big misunderstanding.

Twenty Seven

I had the brains for school but not the desire. Thankfully, both of my girls seem to have the brains and the desire for school; or so I thought until today. Sitting in this classroom with a pouty teenager beside Jacoby and me, I’m starting to think Priscilla has the brains but not the desire. We will see Eliza graduate and head off to art school, but I’m starting to think we will not see that for Priscilla.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Shaddix,” the teacher said, doing that annoying thing where we are treated as one person. Would it kill them to say Mr. and Mr. Shaddix? “I’m glad we finally get to talk.”

It turns out that Priscilla really is in Mrs. Meyer’s algebra one class and now we’re going to find out if the grades thing is right. We checked her grades before we left the house and they are still bad, so this meeting should give us some much needed answers. After this, we really need to work with Eliza on graduation stuff, even if it is only October.

“We got your letter and were concerned,” I said, ignoring my daughter’s annoyed sigh. “We checked her grades online as recently as this morning and it says she’s getting an F in your class.”

“Yes, she is,” the teacher said, casting a glance at Priscilla. “She’s behind on her homework and it wouldn’t take much to bring the grade up to a passing C. If she really applied herself, which I know she’s capable of, she could easily have an A in my class again as she did at the start of the year.”

I looked over at my daughter who just rolled her eyes.

“Well, Priscilla? Care to explain why you’re failing?” Jacoby asked, glaring at her.

“That’s not even me. I’m not even in this stupid class. Honestly, dad, she’s pointing to someone else. Let’s go home.”

She stood, but I got her to sit down with a sharp call of her name. The teacher grabbed two pieces of paper and indicated that she did indeed have the only Priscilla Shaddix in the entire school. The only Priscilla Shaddix in the school was failing algebra one with flying colors and I started to suspect each conference was going to go like this one; I was not looking forward to them.


“What can we do?” Jacoby asked, while I slowly counted to 100. I’ve had anger management training, but it’s barely helping tonight.

“You can try to get her to do her work, apply herself better in school. Otherwise, there’s not a whole lot you can do. Priscilla is old enough that she knows what she has to do and how to do it, but if she doesn’t want to do it, she won’t do it. I’ve tried and will continue to try a variety of discipline measures here, such as detention and will continue to encourage her to seek help when she needs it, but things are on Priscilla now.”

“Thank you for meeting with us,” I said, finally composing myself. I took several deep breaths. “We will be having a nice long chat with our daughter when we get home.”

We shook hands with Mrs. Meyers, then moved into the hallway. We had to meet with a few other teachers as well, and I think she knew we were mad, as she followed us, trying to tell us her teachers were liars, etc.

“You would do well to be seen and not heard,” I growled at her, as we marched her to the next meeting. I don’t care that a few of her classmates were watching, because it’s good for her. She’s going to be grounded for quite a while and if she wants to see the light of day again, she’ll get the back work done. “You’re going to be grounded for so long you’ll forget what outside looks like.”

“That’s not fair! I’m not failing anything!” she shouted, as I yanked the door open to meet with her science teacher. “Those teachers are fucking liars, dad! They hate me!”

“Priscilla June Shaddix you will be quiet right fucking now!” I roared and I caught the look of shock on her face. Even the teacher jumped and I felt bad for that, at least…I hadn’t meant to scare the teacher. “When we get home, you will sit down at the table and be quiet then as well. Now, sit the fuck down and be quiet while we speak to Mr. Norris, got me?”
She was quiet then and I assumed she understood me just fine. Jacoby and I are going to need time to work out her punishment, considering she’s already in trouble for past problems. I had really hoped we were done, but here she goes again and Eliza’s not going to be happy.

***

“Thanks a fucking lot, Eliza!” Priscilla shouted as soon as we walked in the house. We were at conferences for almost two hours and I’m drained. “You fucking ruined my life you damn snitch. I hope you fail all your damn classes and lose your damn scholarship. You deserve it. You’re going to some damn sissy school anyway and studying some damn sissy art so you can be poor and live on the streets in California. Congratulations, you’re wasting your life on some stupid dream. In the mean time, you ruin my life, thanks.”


I feel like a teapot that someone has forgotten to take off the stove. That’s how much steam has come from my ears today, I swear. “That was uncalled for!” I barked, as Priscilla started for the stairs. “You stay down here, young lady.”

“Fuck you.”

Jacoby blocked her way, however, while Eliza’s face moved between hurt and anger.

“You’re the one ruining things, Cilla. You’re ruining my senior year by taking all the attention on yourself and you’re ruining your life. What are you going to study in college? Drinking 101?”

“I’d have a lot more fun than you will. Art school; what a crock of shit.”

“SIT DOWN!” I barked, pointing to a kitchen chair. Priscilla continued to defy me and I growled low in my throat. Once upon a time, if my memory is correct, my friends and I were trying to start a band and I was one of the best growlers in the city. When the band didn’t work out, I thought my talent was no good…then I had kids. “SIT DOWN.”

“I’m outta here,” she huffed and headed for the back door. Once again, however, she was blocked. She tried to hit Jacoby, but he easily deflected her. “I’m not going to sit down and listen to my stupid punishment. What’s left? You’ve already taken away my truck, my permit, and my friend; what’s left?”

“Fine, we’ll deal with this here,” I decided, giving my daughter an equally petulant look. I thought this stage ended after the terrible twos, but I guess I was wrong. “No more band, no more Randi, no more anything until those grades come up, do you understand me?”

Her jaw dropped and she glared at me, tears glistening in her eyes. “You can’t take me out of band! I’m actually passing that!”

“If you’re not passing all of your classes, no band, no Randi and that’s final.”

Priscilla stomped her foot and growled, making for the upstairs. We let her go this time, wondering just how much longer until she shook the house down by slamming her door.

***

“So, who do we have so far for graduation invitations?” Jacoby asked, as we looked over a piece of notebook paper. Eliza had to get her paperwork turned in soon, so while she picked out the invitations she liked, my husband and I went over the potential guest list. We’ll get to Priscilla in a moment, promise.

“We’ve got my folks, my sisters, my niece and nephew, Matt and Val with Madeline and Abby, Johnny and Lacey, Brian and Michelle with Lyric and Noel, Gena and Zach, Tony and Annie with Georgia, Hollister and Randy, Sean and Aaron with Emelia, Ella and Ryland and kids, Leana and Adam with Matilda, my aunt and uncle, Rochelle A and Racheal from work, Dr. Mathias, Shelly from Dr. Mathias’s office, Dr. Mumford, assorted friends of Eliza’s including Monet and family, Molly and Micheal, Sean Pennington and family…who else? And who is on the list of Eliza’s assorted friends including Monet and family?”

I looked back over the list, naming each person individually. It seems like every time we make this list, we add five more people, or someone had a baby, or, or, or. I don’t want my baby to graduate from high school, but I do wish this part was over!

“That sounds good to me. Now, we need to plan the menu and where we’ve having the party. Eliza!”

I swear, before we are empty nesters, this house is going to shake apart. If one of them isn’t slamming their door in anger, one or both are thundering down the stairs. Both came down this time, though Priscilla looked annoyed. She’s still grounded from the bad grades (going on two weeks here and Randi’s pissed, too), but the grades did make an improvement this week.

“Eliza, we need to discuss your graduation party. What did you need Cilla?”

“Since my grades went up, can Randi come over? Her mom’s gotta go to Sioux City and she doesn’t want to go along.”

I glanced at my husband pondering. She’s right, her grades did improve this week, there’s been no drinking and amazingly, no bad behavior. With a sigh, we both nodded, flinching at her squeal of happiness.

“I love you!” she shouted as she moved up the stairs, phone already at her ear.

“Wow. Anyway, Eliza, where do you want to have your party?”

“Here, if we can. We have a big enough yard and it should be pretty nice, I’d think. It’s May 21st, so usually the weather is nice by then,” she said and I nodded, noting that in the notebook. “As for food…I don’t know. How about sandwiches?”

I shrugged, looking over at my husband. He shrugged and glanced at Eliza, who burst out laughing.
“You guys are no help at all!” she laughed and Jacoby and I shrugged in unison. “Fine. How about burgers? I know that might get expensive, but I bet it’s cheaper than all that lunch meat and bread. In fact, I bet Molly will let you order the meat and buns through her so you get a good discount on them, too. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll see if we can borrow a couple of grills in case everyone on this list shows up,” I decided, marking that in the book as well. “We can decide on side dishes later, but potato and macaroni salad are easy to make in large quantities. Are you interested in having your party the day of graduation or the day before?”

“Hrm…Monet’s having hers the day before and there are a couple of others on Saturday I want to go to. I’ll get out of school the week before graduation, yay for being a senior, so, I don’t know…for now I’ll say day of, but if we need to change it, I’ll say that Friday, how does that sound?”

“Works for me as well. Okay, so we’ve got the menu, the location, possible date, we’ll deal with the time when we’ve got a solid decision made, and we’ve got a working guest list. Invitations don’t go out until about three weeks ahead of graduation, so we’ve got time to decide the last minute stuff. I think that’s it.”

Eliza left the table as Randi ran in and straight upstairs without so much as a hello. “Were we too soft on her?” I asked Jacoby as he tucked graduation stuff away. The paperwork was done for now, it seemed and we had some time to relax again. “I mean, letting Randi come over just because her math grade went up to a C?”

Jacoby shrugged, twirling the pen absently in his hand. “I don’t know. But we did promise her that if at least one grade went up, Randi could come over. She made good on her end of the deal and we, in turn, made good on our end of the deal. So, no, I don’t think we were too soft. If this keeps up, she might get more privileges back, which would make our lives easier.”

I had to laugh, knowing how right he was. “You are too right, honey. Well, now that the majority of the graduation stuff is out of the way, what are we going to do? It’s Saturday and I’m bored.”

A weekend off together isn’t so rare as you might think these days. After all, I never work weekends anymore and Jacoby only works every third weekend, so we’re together more often than not.

“Well, we need to rake,” he said and I groaned. I love yard work, believe it or not, but today, I wanted to stay inside. “Though that is why we had children.”

“Cheap labor and all that,” I said, causing Jacoby to laugh. “What else can we do?”

“Well, Eliza’s busy with homework and I think Monet is coming to spend the night,” he said, thoughtfully. Sure enough, Monet ran through the kitchen a second later and thundered up the stairs, her black hair flying behind her. “As I was saying, Monet is coming to spend the night. So…how about a movie night? It’s almost four, so if we start deciding on a menu now, we can either cook or order in with plenty of time to spare and still have a good night.”

“Works for me,” I told him, grinning. “In the mean time, let’s have some fun.”

Jacoby didn’t need to be told twice as we moved upstairs and quietly shut our door. You’d be amazed at how good we are about keeping quiet when the kids are right next door. He pushed me down on the bed and I grabbed the back of his head, nipping hungrily at his bottom lip. With no fanfare, my jeans were off and Jacoby was on top of me.

Twenty Eight

“How was your flight?” I asked as my aunt and uncle arrived in baggage claim.

“It was fine,” Alan said, as JoAnn grabbed their bags. Both yawned and I had to smile; the seven hour flight from California isn’t an easy one. “When do Joe and Barb get in?”

“They should be landing in another hour. Katie and her family got here yesterday and Kelly and her husband were coming with Joe and Barb. Jimmy’s at home right now and the girls are in school. They get out today and don’t go back until Monday.”

“Do you have to work this year?” my aunt asked, as we found a place to sit down and wait for my in-laws.

“No, so this worked out nicely. I took a week off and Jimmy’s off for a week as well. Everyone is here for a week, so we should have a nice visit. Jimmy’s making Eleanor’s famous turkey and mashed potatoes tomorrow, so come to the table hungry!”

“That won’t be a problem for Al here,” JoAnn teased, rubbing her husband’s slightly round stomach. He laughed, shooing her hands away, and grinned at her. “I feed him entirely too well, I think. I swear he was stick thin when we got married.”

“It’s an age stomach,” he protested, crossing his legs. “I am, after all, in my late 60s, so it was bound to happen at some point.”

I burst out laughing, catching the attention of a few people in the vicinity. I didn’t care, either, as I examined briefly my own slightly protruding belly. Since Jimmy learned how to cook, I seem to be gaining all the mid-life weight while he’s still just as thin as ever. Sure he’s gained a few pounds, but he’s still around 200 tops while I’m about 220 these days. I’m not fat by any means, but it’s certainly harder to stay in shape.

“Where are you guys staying?” I asked, knowing they’d gotten a hotel. We simply didn’t have room for everyone anymore, so my aunt and uncle as well as Katie, her husband and kids had opted for a hotel. We’d still be hosting Joe and Barb, as well as Kelly and her husband, but that was about all we had room for.

“We’re staying in Missouri Valley, at the Super 8 there,” Alan said, watching people go by. I’m sure this is interesting to him, as he’s a retired newspaper photographer. He has a knack for seeing things in body language that anyone else would miss. “I think Katie and her family are staying there as well.”

I nodded, stretching a bit as I checked the time. “That’s where they’re staying. They come to the farm during the day and then go back just to sleep. Barb, Joe, Kelly, and her husband Thad are staying with us. So far, the girls are on their best behavior and I hope it stays that way!”

Priscilla has shaped up lately and her grades are right back where we want them. She’s got most of her privileges back, except her school permit. She lost that for 90 days and it’s been a LONG two months so far. She’ll get her truck back when her permit gets re-instated in January and I cannot wait!

“How is Priscilla doing?” JoAnn asked, as I watched the flight boards. So far, their flight is on time, so we shouldn’t have much longer to wait.

“Better. She brought her grades up, there have been no more trips to the police station to retrieve her and if she keeps doing well, she’ll get her school permit back in January. I don’t know what was up there in October, but it seems to be over, at least for now.”

“She’s a teenager and all teens go through some kind of problem phase, it seems. Not all of them go to the lengths that Cilla did, but remember when Eliza was this age?”

I had to think about that, even though it was only three years ago. All at once, though, I remembered what my aunt was talking about and I blanched. Eliza had, uhm, experimented, shall we say? with marijuana and another boy. Not only did we go through a pregnancy scare with her (thankfully, she wasn’t), but community service because she got caught by the cop in Mondamin. Yes, they bother with a cop from Missouri Valley patrolling our tiny little town.

“Oh god, I’d tried to forget that,” I said, shaking my head. “I didn’t need to relive that just now.”

“But it makes my point,” JoAnn said, as the sun peeked through the clouds. I really hope the snow keeps holding off so we can have a good visit and not get stranded at the farm. “She’s a teenager and this will blow over like everything else does.”

I nodded, as I saw that Joe and Barb’s flight was in a little early. The baggage conveyor whirred to life and I watched the escalators. It would still be a few minutes, of course, but I wanted to be ready.

“Did you want to check into your hotel first?” I asked, watching people stream into the area. I spotted Kelly and waved, waiting for her to spot me.

“We probably should. We’re supposed to get a rental as well,” Jo said, and I nodded. We used to discourage it, but it’s getting too hard to transport everyone in three trucks anymore.

“I know that Katie and her family have a rental and I think Joe and Barb were going to get one, as were Kelly and her husband.”

“What are we getting?” Thad asked, shaking my hand. I received hugs from Kelly and Barb and a handshake from Joe.

“A rental.”

He nodded, his massive frame easily towering over mine. The man is, not even kidding, 6’9” tall. Kelly met him when she was studying at UCLA for her bachelor in nursing and it was love at first sight. How she manages to do anything but hold his hand is beyond me, unless he’s sitting down. They’ve been married now about three years and couldn’t be happier.

“Are we all ready?” I asked, as they all got out the paperwork for their rentals. We walked to the rental counter and once the keys were in hand, I went to get my truck. “Follow me!”

We stopped off in Mo. Valley so my aunt and uncle could check in, letting Joe and Barb go ahead, since they know the way. Kelly and Thad opted to wait and follow, and inside of an hour, we were on our way out. I can’t believe it’s Thanksgiving already, putting us that much closer to graduation.

“Even in November, this place is beautiful,” JoAnn said, once we’d arrived out at the farm. The trees were bare, gardens gone for the winter, and I don’t see it. “You don’t see it, but it’s true. You’ve done well, Jacoby.”

“Thanks,” I said, blushing a bit. My aunt and uncle are new visitors to the farm, as they never really came before mom passed. But since she’s been gone, they’ve come more often, and I’m always glad to have them here. “Shall we head in where it’s warm?”

We started across the yard, only to hear our back door bang open (this poor house…is it going to survive until Cilla goes to college?) and Priscilla shout her greeting.

“Jo! Al! Kelly! Thad!”

She ran across the yard and practically tackled the entire group in a hug. She was panting and wheezing, as this time of year is bad for her, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s good to see you, too,” Thad boomed, in his deep voice. He’s a nurse manager on the heart floor, while Kelly is a nurse manager on the psych ward, and I have decided I would not care to have him as my nurse…he’d be kind of scary at the bedside, even though he’s as gentle as can be. “Let’s get you in where you can breathe.”

She laughed when he picked her up and carried her over his shoulder. She was ‘beating’ his back to no effect and I had to laugh. She gets on well with Thad and if her trouble surfaces again, they’ve offered to take her in for a while to see if they can help. We’re considering it as a last-ditch solution if necessary.

“Thad! Put me down!” Priscilla giggled and I shook my head, laughing harder when Jimmy grabbed his camera. A few pictures later, my daughter was settled safely on her feet. “Thank you!”

I greeted my husband with a kiss, trying not to get any flour on me. I can see he’s been busy making pies, which is why I did airport pick up. Our house felt very crowded at the moment, but I loved it. Remind of that statement a week from now, okay?

“What have you been busy making?” I asked, gesturing to the counter.

“Pumpkin, lemon meringue, apple, pecan, and coconut cream pies. I also pre-made a couple of Eleanor’s popular casseroles: taco and tater tot; they were the easiest to double. I’ve also got six pizzas sitting in the fridge downstairs ready for supper tonight.”

“You deserve a break!” I declared and Jimmy smiled. “When you learned to cook, you really learned to cook.”

He grinned, pulling me into a tight hug. “No way. We have guests with hungry stomachs! Besides, I have to get that turkey in tomorrow morning at five. Though I’m going right back to bed once it’s in. Mom said she’ll make some sides, so I propose we put the refrigerated pies away and then all head in to grocery shop.”

“Deal.”

It took some doing (we have a very, very large turkey in our fridge, thawing), but we managed to get the coconut cream pie in, as well as a raisin cream that he didn’t mention making and were ready to head into Omaha.

“Are those of you who just got here okay with this?” I asked, understanding that people would be tired.

“I’m good to go,” Al said and JoAnn nodded, as did Kelly and Thad. “Let’s go, then. Do we have a list?”

That took another 45 minutes, mostly because the teenagers had a lot of suggestions as well. When we finally got the list done, it was lengthy, and I was afraid of the total.

“All right. Let’s see how many cars we need,” I said, as everyone piled into the backyard. “We’ve got room in Jimmy’s truck for one, unless Eliza wants to drive?”

“I’ll take the kids,” she said, gesturing to their two cousins. “That way, we can hang out in Omaha for a bit and let you adults do your thing.”

“Sounds good. But come to Baker’s first before you take off,” Jimmy requested and got an okay as the kids headed for Eliza’s truck. “Okay, now we have room for three.”

In the end, it took two vehicles (Joe is driving my truck), but we all fit and could get into Omaha.

“This shopping trip is going to be frightening,” Jimmy commented, pulling onto the gravel. We’ve been very lucky with the winter weather lately and I hope it stays that way.

“We’ll all help pay,” Barb reminded him and I nodded, thanking her. I do like that about our families, considering they always help pay for food while they’re here. We might be doing just fine financially, but feeding this crowd is still a challenge. “We’re here for a week and you guys don’t have to foot the bill for that.”

I thanked her, as we moved onto the interstate finally. I love where we live, but once in a while, I start to entertain the idea of moving into Omaha. The problem there is that I don’t want to live in the city and deal with the headaches of city life. I like our several acres, the fact that someone can still farm our several acres and it’s quiet.

“Are you guys all coming out for Christmas?” Al asked, as the barren winter landscape flew by.

“Yes. We’ll be landing on December 22nd around seven in the evening at LAX,” Jimmy replied, passing a slow moving semi. “We’re going to stay until January first and we fly back here around two that afternoon California time. Hopefully Priscilla will continue with her good behavior so we can still come.”

I had to agree with my husband. We haven’t had to cancel a trip to California yet, but we’ve been close. We started going out there for Christmas a couple of years ago, when Jimmy’s mom became very sick. The doctors still don’t know exactly what she had, but now we try to go out at least every other year if we can. It gets expensive, but we were able to afford it this year, so we said ‘why not?’.

“Any idea what caused her behavior?”

I shrugged, as Jimmy took the exit into downtown Omaha. “No idea. She was fine and then she was horrible. I mean, we’ve had some of the usual teenager attitude problems with her, running away when we fight kind of stuff, but that’s just because she’s 15. The incident with drunk driving and such was a big surprise to me.”

Barb nodded, patting my shoulder. “Well, at least it seems to have passed for now. Hopefully it was just a hump in her life and she’s cleared it for now. I think all teens go through this at some point. You’re a good parent and you’ll get through it with her.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t convinced. I mean, I think we’re good parents, even if our children beg to differ on occasion. But I still wonder what went wrong that my daughter got caught drinking and driving at the age of fourteen! I put that thought aside as we arrived at the grocery store, noting that the kids were already here. I just hope they don’t have two carts full of junk already…I’m not paying for all their junk food!

“Cheer up,” Jimmy whispered at me, as we linked hands and walked into the store. “Things will be fine.”

“I hope so,” I responded, placing a quick kiss on his cheek as we entered the store. I trust my husband, but I’m a parent and I worry; I just don’t think we’re done quite yet.

Twenty Nine

Around two on the afternoon of Thanksgiving Day, I was in a food coma, I’m 99% sure. Everyone had arrived at the house by 10 and by then, mom, Jacoby, and I were knee deep in side dishes. Everyone else decided to pitch in when they got here, including our kids and their cousins, and now, it’s time to sleep. We’re not into football, so the TV is actually off right now, which is nice. Only the light snores of the adults fill the room; I think the kids went outside, calling us ‘boring’ as they left.

“Sleepy,” Jacoby muttered, as we snuggled into my chair. It’s a tight fit, but we make it work. “Blankie.”

Yes, he becomes unintelligent when he’s this sleepy and really, don’t we all? I certainly do, at least, and trust me, as we snuggle under a fleece blanket Eleanor made me years ago I lost all ability to be coherent.


“Dad? We’re hungry.”

Grr. I was having such a nice dream about Jacoby, and now someone is waking me up. I tried to wave the person off, but it was no use.

“Dad? Come on, we’re hungry. It’s almost six and you’ve been asleep for like four hours.”

Oh, I hate that whiny voice, I really do. I sighed and finally cracked my eyes open, noting that Jacoby was just waking as well. In fact, the snores of earlier were gone and I slowly sat up, rubbing my eyes. I could see that mom and dad were just waking up, as were Jacoby’s aunt and uncle. Even my sisters and their spouses looked to be freshly awakened, given the sleepy looks on their faces. Then I saw four teenagers staring daggers at us.

“You slept, like, forever,” Jensen complained, crossing his arms over his chest. I worry about that boy… “Seriously, we’re starving.”

“Jen, you know better than to act like that,” Katie chastised her son. “Apologize. And you’re not starving.”

“Sorry. But for real, we’re starving.”

I laughed a bit and shook my head, noting that we had indeed slept the day away. Mom stretched a bit, as Jacoby and I untangled ourselves and got out of the chair. Thankfully, any indications of my quite happy dream had diminished, so I didn’t need to worry about that.

“You’re hungry? How can you be hungry after that giant meal we had?” I asked, my eyes wide. “I mean, we stuffed you silly on turkey, salad, pie, bread, you name it. What’s left?”

“We’re growing children, dad,” Priscilla reminded me, though I didn’t need a reminder. The fact that the clothes we bought her in August barely fit now in November is reminder enough. “We need food.”

“And there’s a kitchen right through that doorway. You know how to heat up leftovers and make sandwiches. Is anyone else hungry?”

It appeared that only the ‘growing children’ were hungry, and they all grumbled as they slumped toward the kitchen, no doubt to eat us out of house and home. I don’t know where they’re putting it, though I suspect a hollow leg or two.

“How they can eat is beyond me. I am still stuffed, though at least I don’t feel uncomfortable,” Jacoby said, stretching a bit. I love it when his shirt rides up his stomach like that. “But I’m certainly not hungry.”

We all started laughing, then, when my dad beelined it for the kitchen and returned with a large piece of pumpkin pie with whipped cream.

“What?” he asked, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Not hungry doesn’t mean there’s no room for pie.”

Now I think about it, he’s got a point. There’s always room for pie, right?

“I thought you guys weren’t hungry,” Eliza said, pointing a loaded plate at us, as they made their way upstairs. We suspend the food in the kitchen only rules a bit for times like this.

“There’s always room for pie,” I reminded her and laughed when she rolled her eyes. “It’s true!”

We all laughed again, as forks scraped against plates and pieces of pie disappeared into our still-full stomachs.

“Well, I think we’re going to head back to the hotel for the night,” Alan said, when his food was gone. “What are we doing tomorrow?”

“I believe a few brave souls wanted to go shopping,” Jacoby said, looking at my sisters, mother, and his aunt. “I think the rest of us, the smart ones, are sleeping in and hanging out around the house.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll snag the rental and come hang with the guys,” he said, and I laughed when JoAnn smacked his arm. “Guy time for sure tomorrow.”

We all saw them out, and my sister Katie and her family followed a couple of hours later. Bedtime was early tonight and I really hope that tomorrow I have room to eat a full meal again.

***

“OMG!” Priscilla shouted, and yes, she said each letter individually; yes, that drives me bonkers. “The deals! Dad, you will not believe it, but I got all your Christmas presents. Both of you. And they’re wrapped. It was so awesome!”

Someone slap the teenager out of her quick! Okay, I’m kidding, but I hate it when she talks like this. And where she got the money is beyond me. She doesn’t have a job, just her allowance, and while she’s paid her fine and other fees, her allowance isn’t that big.

“That’s great. How did you know what we wanted?”

She laughed, rubbing her hands together. “You and dad are big talkers, daddy, trust me. I listen and I know what you want.”

She’s got to be bluffing…because I haven’t told Jacoby anything about what I want for Christmas, I swear. I mean, I might’ve mentioned a book or movie here and there, but that’s about it. I certainly haven’t been giving out verbal lists of my wishes…and I the stuff I’d want would be Jacoby level spending anyway.

“Just trust me,” she told me, patting my arm. I gave her a quizzical look as she dashed upstairs with bags in her hands, each bag cleverly blank so I wouldn’t know which stores she’d visited.

Mom came in next, bearing only a few bags, mostly from book stores. She handed one to me with a smile and I shot her another quizzical look; at least I’m good at them.

“It’s something I know you need, so I got it for you,” she explained, shoving the bag into my hands. “No sense waiting until Christmas or your birthday for this one.”

I looked into the bag and spotted a small, wrapped box. Since it’s from the bookstore, it could be about anything: my favorite chocolate, a bookmark, literally anything. Extracting the box, I examined the cheerful Christmas paper, beset with reindeer and snow, then carefully tore open one corner. The box inside was white, so that was no help. Once I got the small box worked open, I grinned: it was a brand new book light.

“Thank you!” I said, giving her a hug. She smiled, squeezing me for a moment, before releasing me. “I’ve been meaning to get one for a while, but never got around to it.”

“Consider that my way of apologizing for a few months ago,” she said, kissing my cheek. She walked away and I blinked for a moment before I realized what she was talking about. It might just be a small book light, but now it meant the world to me.

***

The remainder of the week was much the same: everyone came out to the farm and spent the day hanging out. We recruited Alan, Thad, and Myles to help put Christmas lights on the house, so we got that done before the snow decided to fly. Mom, our girls, my sisters, and JoAnn opted to get the inside Christmas decorations sorted and once the outside work was done, we put up our tree. Priscilla seemed incredibly happy this year, which is a nice change. Not that she’s not happy at Christmas, the since last Christmas was our first without Hank, it’s understandable that she was a bit melancholy.

“This is my first Christmas without mom,” Jacoby sighed, once the tree was up. The house looked festive, but the light had gone out of his eyes. He sniffled a bit and then excused himself upstairs; I went after him, pulling him into a hug as soon as we were alone. “I’m sorry, Jimmy, but Christmas is just not my idea of a good time this year.”

I held him tight, able to understand. I felt that way last year when we lost Hank. I didn’t feel like Christmas that year, either, though we celebrated for the kids. We’d do the same thing this time, but I knew it would be hard on Jacoby.

“I know it’s going to be hard,” I told him, holding him tight as he cried. “I know. You don’t have to do anything this year if you don’t want to.”

“We’ll have it for the kids, just like we did last year,” he promised, wiping his eyes. He pulled in a deep breath and stood back for a moment, looking at the last picture he’d ever taken of his mom. She’d been out here for New Years and was wearing a party hat, holding a glass of champagne, and smiling broadly. Two weeks later, she was dead. “It’s not fair to them if we cancel. But my heart won’t quite be in it.”

I kissed him softly on the lips and nodded. “I understand. That’s how I felt last year about Hank. Just do what you need to do and the girls will understand.”

He nodded, then squeezed me one more time before disappearing into our bathroom. I figured he needed some down town, so I returned downstairs, only to be met with worried looks from the entire group.

“We didn’t even think,” mom said, quietly, as she sat next to dad. “Is he okay?”

I nodded, settling into my chair. “He’s fine. It’s just going to be tough for him, that’s all. It’s his first Christmas without his mom and we just weren’t prepared for her passing. He’s taking some time to himself and the he’ll be down.”

There was a heavy silence for a bit before dad asked if we felt up to going out for supper tonight. Jacoby joined a few minutes later and agreed to going out. I could tell he didn’t want to, but neither did he want to make a big fuss in front of our family.

“I’m sorry, Coby,” mom said, as he settled into his chair. She shook her head, clearly able to read the anguish in his blue eyes. “We didn’t even think when we started on Christmas stuff and no one meant to hurt you.”

He smiled at her and it seemed genuine. “It’s not your fault. Christmas will go on for the kids, if nothing else. We went through this last Christmas too, remember? I told Jimmy not to cancel because it’s not fair to everyone else. I might not be very enthusiastic, but I will celebrate this year, as he did last year. So please don’t worry about it.”

Mom nodded, but didn’t seem convinced. After all, all of us felt bad, but especially mom since she’d spear-headed the decorating this year. Last year, we’d spent Thanksgiving with Edgar and his family and decorated on our own, with no family around.

“Well, where should we eat?” Jacoby asked, looking out into our dark backyard. We do have a light out there, but it doesn’t do much for the front yard. The Christmas lights are on, though, and it looks festive from here. “Do we want to head into Mondamin or venture into Omaha?”

Murmurs of indecision followed and we finally settled on our favorite: Molly’s Bar. I grinned, knowing she’d be open and glad to see us. I haven’t been in there for a while, and it’s more fun going in happy than going in upset.

“Are we ready?” Alan asked, standing and stretching. We hadn’t done anything but Christmas stuff today, so it was nice to get a chance to relax from that. I was feeling the cold air a bit in my lungs, so I grabbed my mask before we left. “Let’s go, then.”

I held Jacoby tight as we walked out of the house, shivering a bit when the cold air came around the house. He knew I was there for him, no matter what, but sometimes, it’s hard to remember that. When family leaves in a few days and it’s just us and the girls again, it’ll hit him once again that this Christmas is without his mom. In mean time, I plan to keep him busy and give him plenty of time to talk to me if he needs to; it’s just what a good husband does after all.

Thirty

I knew the first time Jimmy had an asthma attack after the COPD diagnosis was going to be scary, but I hadn’t counted on how scary. Our families left on schedule and right after, the weather turned to shit. The snow started and it hasn’t stopped yet. Apparently, we’ve already broken a record for November snowfall and we might break a record for overall snowfall this entire winter.

Two nights after everyone left, Jimmy and I were relaxing in the living room. The girls were doing homework and we were reading, since there wasn’t anything for us to do. No one seemed to need assistance with their homework, Hamlet was quiet, the internet was boring, and it was snowing. All at once, Jimmy put his book down and reached for his nebulizer; I could hear him wheezing and I immediately became concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

He shrugged, holding the wand to his mouth to dispense the medication. It’s rare for him to have random attacks like this, especially when there’s no obvious trigger. I watched anxiously, relieved when the treatment seemed to help. He’s been under the weather of late, so if he’s getting a cold, we’ll have to be extra careful. He had his flu and pneumonia shots today, so we should be covered.

The treatment seemed to help, and I returned to my book. After all, he knows how to manage his symptoms and if something was really wrong, he’d tell me. A few minutes later, however, I could barely focus on my book, listening to him wheeze. I put the book aside, just in time for him to lean forward, a hand on his chest.

“Honey?” I asked, but got no response. The wheezing was worse, though, and now he seemed to be gasping for air. I stood up and went to him, as he tried to stand. It was wiser for him to lie down, though, and I carefully lowered him to the floor. I reached for my phone, calling for the girls; there’s no way I’m going to get him to the hospital in time, considering his lips are already blue.

“Dad?” Eliza asked, the fear she was feeling written all over her face. It was hard to miss seeing Jimmy laid out on the floor, lips blue, as I shouted into the phone at the dispatcher. I knew things were bad, as I reached for the nebulizer. He was still breathing, but barely. “Dad, what’s going on?”

“Thanks,” I said, hanging up with 911. An ambulance was on its way from Mondamin and I sprang into action with Jimmy. “Jimmy, honey, breathe for me. What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, his mouth hanging open as he tried to pull in air. “Can’t—“

“Eliza, get my stethoscope, now!”

She didn’t hesitate, and shortly after the black rubber was in my hand. One listen to Jimmy’s lungs gave me my answers: he’s got pneumonia again. I sent Priscilla outside to direct the ambulance in and tried to keep my husband breathing. I gave him another breathing treatment, though it didn’t help much.

“In-in here,” Priscilla stuttered, rubbing her arms. It’s cold out tonight, even with a jacket, and I hoped they’d take precautions against the cold air for Jimmy.

“What’s up Coby?” Sean P. asked, and I was momentarily confused. Then I remembered that he pulls a couple nights a week with Mondamin as an EMT.

“Jimmy can’t breathe,” I said, rattling off a full report. “It’s probably pneumonia.”

From there, things are a bit of a blur. Eliza was warming up her truck while Priscilla locked up and I followed Jimmy out to the rig. I’d ride to Missouri Valley while the girls drove. I didn’t want them on the road, but Sean assured me things were clear, so I relented. His partner, Micheal, who also lived out here near us, was busy communicating with Mo. Valley hospital.

“You riding?” Sean P. asked and I nodded, hopping in the back. “Go!”

I forced myself to sit back and hold Jimmy’s hand; I was too close to the situation and I knew it. I watched as Jimmy struggled to breathe and hoped that something could be done. I wanted to shout orders, take over from Sean, but I knew he’d never let me. I had to sit back and watch, even though it was almost impossible to do. I wanted Jimmy intubated and bagged, but since he’s still breathing, they won’t do that. I’d never been so scared in my entire life and I knew we’d end up at Creighton before the night was over.

***

“Exacerbation of COPD along with left lower lobe pneumonia.”

I nodded, as Dr. Sullivan stood in Jimmy’s room at Creighton. He’d been admitted to ICU for the night so he could be more closely observed. He’d coded in Missouri Valley, which earned him a ride in his own chopper. By the time the chopper had arrived in Omaha, he was fighting the tube down his throat, and despite my protests, it was removed. I drove Eliza’s truck into Omaha and sat nervously in the waiting room for what felt like hours before we could see him. I can’t believe we almost lost him tonight and I know how scared the girls are. He’s on as much oxygen as they give him without a ventilator right now and I’m scared stiff.

“How did that happen? He had his pneumonia shot this morning,” I told the doctor, as she watched Jimmy breathe. His breathing was ragged and I could hear the congestion. “I mean, he’s had a bit of a cold for the last couple of days, but he saw you and everything was fine; what happened?”

I’ve seen doctors look lost before and Dr. Sullivan was definitely at a loss tonight. “I don’t know, Jacoby, and that bothers me. His chest x-ray was clear three days ago, when I saw him at the start of his cold. I even double checked it when he came through the ER tonight. Now, his left lower lobe is full of infection and his COPD is on the rampage. This is common with COPD but I’ve never seen it happen so fast.”

“The girls want to know his prognosis,” I told her and she sighed. I hate it when doctors sigh; it usually signals bad things to come.

“Right now, I’d say it’s 50/50 for a good outcome. I’m just being honest, Coby. I’d love to say he’s got a higher chance of survival, but I can’t guarantee that. If he doesn’t end up in respiratory distress and on a vent by morning, I’ll be surprised. The way he’s going now, his sats are in the low 70s, with fifteen liters of oxygen. I can’t give him anymore air short of a ventilator, which I know you want, but he fights it. If he’d rip it out, there would be irreparable damage, and you know that. As long as he’s breathing, I won’t put the vent on. For now, the first 24 hours are going to be critical, as always. If he makes it until tomorrow night at midnight, I’ll increase his chances of survival just a bit.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, as the doctor squeezed my shoulder and walked away. I sighed, looking around his room, noting Jimmy’s bed smack in the center. ICU rooms aren’t all that much bigger than regular patient rooms, but they are big enough for family members to sit. Ventilator equipment has gotten smaller over the years, so some of the space they used to take up is free now. The girls were sitting by Jimmy, holding his hands as he slept. I was distressed that his stomach caved in with each raspy breath, but this was part and parcel of his illness. “The doctor said that, for the first 24 hours, his chances are 50/50. If he makes it to tomorrow night at midnight, she’ll increase his chances a little bit. In short, girls, your dad is really, really sick.”

They were quiet, but the feeling in the room was heavy. He’s had this happen one other time, and I didn’t care for the repeat performance. That time, he nearly died as well but then the antibiotics kicked in and he got better. Of course, that time, he’d been a lot younger, too, and that makes a difference. Now, he’s in his late forties, and that can work against him. Aside from the little cold he’s had of late, I thought things were going well for him.

“Is he going to die?” Priscilla asked, wiping her face. For all the problems we’ve had with her, now she’s finally realizing what’s going on.

“He might,” I admitted, though it killed me to do so. I didn’t like saying that my husband could die, but we have to face the fact that he’s got a 50% chance of doing so. “But he might not. That’s the problem with 50/50. He’s on a good strong antibiotic, though, and that means he’s got a better chance of making it. This medication is known for clearing pneumonia quickly in patients like your dad, so all we can do is hope.”

I don’t think my answer was good enough, but it was all I had. My phone vibrating made me jump and I looked down to see Jimmy’s parents calling. With a sigh, I went to the lobby and answered, wishing I had better news.

“We’re on a two a.m. flight out of Orange County; how’s he doing?” Joe greeted me and I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. It was just after midnight now, so their flight wouldn’t leave for another four hours.

“Not good, Joe. He’s got a 50/50 shot at making it. They coded him in Missouri Valley, then airlifted him to Creighton. He’s got exacerbation of COPD and left lower lobe pneumonia. He had his pneumonia shot this morning and has had a cold for three days. But the doctor saw him three days ago and everything was fine. She even double checked his chest x-ray when he came in on the chopper. But he’s in dutch right now, medically. If he makes it through the next 24 hours, he’ll be in a little better shape. I’m sorry I don’t have better news.”

“It’s not your fault, Jacoby. I’ve been doing some research and this sounds like par for the course, sadly, for COPD. I think he’s just gotten lucky of late, to be honest. We’ll just hope this goes by quickly and that he pulls out of it. We’ll call when we’re in town; where’s he at?”

“Creighton. ICU room two,” I said, listening to the scratch of a pencil on paper. “I’ll see you when you get here.”

We hung up after that, just in time for JoAnn to call. I felt bad, considering everyone had just been out here at Thanksgiving, but this was serious and I wanted family here.

“Oh honey, what’s going on?” she asked, her voice full of sympathy. She hadn’t answered when I called, so I’d left a message saying only to call me back as soon as possible.

“Jimmy’s in the hospital and it’s bad. He’s had a cold for the last three days, but tonight, he pretty much stopped breathing. He saw his doctor three days ago and everything was fine, so apparently, the COPD is more to blame. He’s done everything he’s supposed to, so it’s not on his end, at least. He had his shots this morning, too, so that’s taken care of. But I guess he was already sick and so the shot couldn’t help him this time. He’s got a 50/50 shot of making it, Jo, and I’m really fucking scared. If he makes it the next 24 hours, he’ll be in better shape, but I have a bad feeling about this time.”

“We’re getting a flight out now, Jacoby, so we’ll be there as soon as we can, okay? Where is Jimmy?”

“ICU room two at Creighton,” I told her, with a sigh. I was trying to contain my emotions but it was becoming difficult. I’d called everyone I work with as well and several co-workers had filtered in and out through the night, but now it was just me and the girls.

“We’ll call when we have a flight,” she promised and hung up.

Now more than ever, I just really want my mom, I thought as I sank onto a nearby couch. It was comfortable enough, designed for hours of sitting and worrying. But it didn’t replace the fact that, right, now I was alone. My family was all in California, my co-workers were in bed or working, and the girls were with Jimmy. At a time when a guy just needs his mom, I was alone.

***

I don’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing I know, someone is nudging me. I sat up in a panic, then spotted Sean with a cup of coffee in his hand. A quick check of my phone showed it was around seven in the morning and there were two missed calls.

“Coffee. I checked on Jimmy and the girls and all is well. Take a moment before you go in and talk to me.”

I blew on the coffee before taking a cautious sip. With that little bit in me, Sean set our drinks aside and took me into his arms. I was no longer strong and I let it all out in a river of tears that I haven’t cried since my mom died. He said nothing, just let me cry until it was all out and then I sat back, checking to see who had called.

“Looks like family are on their way,” he noted, as I checked voicemail. Sure enough, my aunt and uncle had gotten the same flight as Jimmy’s parents. They’d be here around one in the afternoon our time with layovers, and Katie and Kelly were coming as well, though their families were staying behind for now.

“I’m so scared, Sean,” I croaked out, taking my coffee back. “He’s only been this bad once and it almost ended badly. He coded in Mo. Valley, then they flew him here; it wasn’t looking good for him last night.”

Sean nodded, as we sipped our coffee and the doors to ICU opened. Eliza came out, bags under her eyes and I remembered they’d have school today.

“I’ll call school; you and Cilla need to be with your dad,” I said, dialing the number by heart. When the secretary answered, I sighed. “Eliza and Priscilla Shaddix won’t be in today. Their day was rushed to Creighton last night not breathing, so they need to stay with him today.”

“I’ll mark them down.”

“Thanks.” I hung up, then took a sip of coffee. “Sorry I fell asleep out here.”

“It’s okay, daddy,” she said, sitting next to me. She pulled her sweater sleeves over her hands and sighed, before tucking her legs under her. She’s as skinny as Jimmy and just as flexible. “I bet you slept better than we did. Daddy made it through the night, though. His sats were up a bit this morning, in the upper 70s, and they’re going to do a chest x-ray this morning again. Are grandma and grandpa coming?”

“Yes, as are Jo, Al, Katie, and Kelly. They should all be here around one this afternoon with layovers. I hope the weather holds for them.”

I looked outside and saw fat snowflakes falling and began to worry. These are California drivers who are unaccustomed to Iowa winters, though the Sullivan’s are getting better. Maybe someone should go pick them up at the airport instead of them getting rentals.

“They’ll be fine, Jacoby,” Sean assured me, standing. He got Eliza some coffee, then told her to take a break. “Walk with me and we’ll go see Jimmy.”

I stood, after hugging my daughter, then followed Sean onto the unit. Shift change was in full swing and as I entered Jimmy’s room, I tried to relax. If he made it through the night, that’s the first hurdle. We’ve gone down this road before and we made it through with no problems. Now, we just have to make it down this road again with a good outcome.

Thirty One

I didn’t know what to expect when I first walked into my son’s room. Was he dead? Was he on a breathing machine? I knew that he was fighting for his life, that’s for sure. But when I walked into his room, I was relieved that he was, at least, alive. Jacoby was sitting with him and I noticed his eyes were closed, as though he was sleeping. I suppose his breathing troubles are taking their toll on him and he sleeps more right now.

I held Barb’s hand as we walked in and Jacoby looked up, coming up immediately to give us a hug. Jimmy’s nurse said two visitors at a time and we were encouraged to go first. I held my son-in-law tight, wishing this was all just a bad dream, but knowing it couldn’t be.

“How’s he doing?” I asked, taking a seat to my son’s right. Why do we always sit to the right of the patient?

“Better than he was last night. His sats, which are a measure of how much oxygen is in his blood, are up a bit now,” Jacoby told us quietly. “He was around 70% but he’s been steady at around 80% now for the last two hours. The antibiotic is kicking in, but it’s taking time, of course. There was no change on this morning’s chest x-ray, but we didn’t expect any. If he makes it through to midnight, he’ll be in better shape still. Dr. Sullivan is encouraged, though, and she’ll be by to see him around three so you can all talk.”

I nodded, as Jacoby excused himself to give us some time. I hadn’t seen my son this sick in a few years, and it brought back memories of the last time this happened. He’d almost died then as well, but we got lucky and got him back for a few more years; I’m selfish and I want him for a few more still.

“Mom and dad are here, Jim,” I said, taking his hand. His eyes opened a bit and I could see the confusion clouded in them. He tried to speak, but he didn’t have the air and his eyes closed again. I was pleased when he squeezed my hand. “Your sisters are here and so are Jo and Al. We’re going to send Katie and Kelly in, okay?”

He squeezed again and I suppose that was the only way he could communicate right now. I stood, placing a kiss on his forehead, which was damp with perspiration, then went to get my two other children. Barb stayed a few more minutes, then joined us in the lobby, going right to her granddaughters to offer comfort. I’m sure it was hard for them to see their dad like this, and we wanted to be there for the entire family.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Priscilla said, hugging me. “This is really scary.”

“I know. But your dad is strong and I think he’ll make it,” I told her, wishing I believed it myself. In some ways, I hope this helps her understand some of things that I know bother her. It’s not that Jimmy wants everything to revolve around him; it’s that sometimes, it has to. “Are you off school today?”

She nodded, wiping her eyes, as she went to sit with Barb. Jacoby was sitting with his aunt and uncle and I was glad to see them taking more interest in his life. That’s not to say they haven’t been interested before, but they never really came out for anything, and since Jeanette’s passing, they come out quite often.

“I’m going to take Jacoby for a walk,” my wife said, and I nodded. No doubt, he was missing his mom quite a lot right now. Even though my mom has been gone for at least thirty years now, I still have moments where I need her advice or support and find myself missing her more than usual. “He needs a mom; Jo’s coming, too.”

I sat with my granddaughters, wishing I could do more for them. Sadly, right now, all I can do is sit with them and hope we get some good news from the doctor this afternoon. Jimmy’s unresponsiveness scared me earlier, though I tried not to let on. He’s just so listless in that bed and his breathing is so ragged; I have a bad feeling that I can’t shake, and I don’t like it.

***

Jimmy made it to midnight and Dr. Sullivan said this morning that she’s seeing a slight improvement. It must be very slight, because I certainly don’t see it. He’s still unresponsive, mostly, though he does communicate with squeezing hands. Jacoby asked him some basic questions today, and he flunked with flying colors. The theory is that his brain is working so hard on breathing that other things are being put on a backburner, so to speak; couple that with his existing memory problems and you’ve got a bad case of amnesia. It sounds like he’s going to come out of it, once this all clears, but it’s hard to say.

“Jimmy, honey, open your eyes,” Barb prompted, and he complied, but confusion was clear in them. His stomach still caved in with every breath, but his sats were up this morning. I guess that’s a good thing, according to Jacoby and Dr. Sullivan, so I’ll take their word for it. “Can you talk to me?”

He shook his head, which is more response than we’ve had. I smiled, hoping he was making some sort of recovery. I know it’s a small thing, but my son is very, very sick right now, and if he can shake his head, I’m okay with that.

“He’s making progress,” a voice said, and I looked up as his nurse entered the room. “We’ve got all of his vitals monitored outside as well and his sats have gone up in the last hour. He’s into the 80s now, which is a good thing. The medication is particularly strong, considering how sick he was, so it’s working fast. If he can start coughing up the congestion in his lungs, he’ll get better faster. We need to encourage him to cough.”

Jimmy’s never been one for following directions, but he immediately started coughing. A few seconds later, I could see he was in some sort of distress and watched as the nurse used a vacuum type wand to suction phlegm from my son’s throat. Apparently, this is the nasty stuff causing all the trouble.

“That’s good, Jimmy. Keep bringing that stuff up okay?” she told him and he nodded, yawning before he opened his eyes a bit. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he croaked out and I grinned, as Jacoby walked in. “Hey Coby.”

My son-in-law’s face lit up as he realized that Jimmy was speaking to him. He rushed to the bed, carefully taking Jimmy into a tight hug and kissing him.

“How are you feeling?” was the first thing he asked and I almost chuckled…surely he knew the answer to that.

“Rotten.”

It was clear that Jimmy had a hell of a case of laryngitis, but he was trying at least. I watched the two, realizing now that, despite their problems, they truly were in love and had been for all these years. I never doubted that, but sometimes with their problems, I wondered just how in love they could be.

“At least you’re talking now. You’ve been making good progress since last night.”

“Where am I?” Jimmy asked, his dull blue eyes, half open, looking around the room. “What happened?”

That seemed to exhaust his limited air supply, and he settled into his pillows, exhausted. His breathing was a bit more ragged and he was coughing more, which of course brought up more junk. Jacoby got him to spit it out and that seemed to help his breathing a little.

“You stopped breathing at home last night,” Jacoby told him and I wondered if we should tell him all this now. He needed to rest, not get worked up over what happened. “I called an ambulance and you got air-lifted to Creighton. You’ve got exacerbation of COPD and left lower lobe pneumonia going on. But thanks to the medication, you’re making a lot better progress than was expected.”

“Oh.”

He dropped off to sleep after that, but I was happy to hear him speak. I know that he’s not out of the woods yet, but I think it’s a good sign that he’s going to make it. I stood, giving Jacoby some time with Jimmy, while I went to report the good news to the family.

***

A couple days later, Jimmy was able to stay awake longer and talk a bit more. He was still struggling to breathe, but it appeared that the exacerbation was clearing, which Dr. Sullivan said was the biggest hurdle. The pneumonia would be a lot easier to deal with if the COPD could be brought back under control.

“Hey dad,” Jimmy said, as I entered his room that afternoon. We’d all taken the morning off, at the urging of the staff and Dr. Sullivan, and we all felt refreshed.

“How are you feeling?”

He shrugged, coughing a bit, but I could already sense a big difference in him. “Better, actually. I don’t know if the COPD is coming back under control or just what.”

That is, possibly, the longest sentence he’s said since he got admitted. “You’re certainly able to speak for longer, which is good. Perhaps you can get out of ICU soon.”

He nodded, coughing again, which I have been told is normal. Once he’d cleared more phlegm, he leaned back against his pillows.

“How long have you been here?” he asked, and I was glad to see the earlier confusion gone.

“Since Tuesday,” I told him, glancing out the window. It was snowing again, and I think this is going to be a long winter for our boys. “Jacoby called from Missouri Valley and we got on the next flight we could. Al and Jo are here, as are Kelly and Katie. We, uhm, thought we were going to lose you.”

“I heard about—that,” he answered, pausing to catch his breath. I can already tell it’s going to be a long recovery for him, but I think he’s up to it. He coughed again, and I hope this is a sign the medication is working. “Jack said I coded.”

I nodded, because it hurt to let him know how close he was to dying. I mean, he’s been close before, but this is only the second time I’ve experienced it and I hate it.

“You did. But they brought you back and you’re here now, so that’s what’s important,” I reminded him, taking his hand. “Now, you just have to get better.”

“Where are the girls?” he asked, and I noticed his hand was trembling a bit.

“In school. They were out for a couple of days, but Jacoby decided they could go back now that you’re on the rebound. We got him to sleep at home last night, and he’s feeling better for that. He was exhausted last night, so between us and the nurses, we coaxed him home.”

“Thanks.”

I nodded, as my son returned to sleep. I know he’s going to be exhausted for a while, so I decided to let him sleep. The family was gathered as usual in the waiting room, although the girls would come a bit later.

“How’s he doing?” JoAnn asked, shedding her coat. She and Al had spent most of the day back at the farm, tending to neglected housework and snow clearing.

“Better. He was able to speak to me for a while just now and he’s aware of what’s going on. He’s exhausted, of course, but he’s getting better.”

“Good. I know it’s been a trying four days for Coby, so this will ease his stress a little. When does Coby go back to work?”

“I go back on Monday,” he said, entering the room with Priscilla. She won’t get her permit back for a while yet, so she’s catching rides where she can. “My schedule’s going to be a little out of whack for a bit, but that’s fine. How’s Jimmy doing?”

I updated my son-in-law and he smiled, visibly relaxing. He’s been a very stressed and devoted husband the last four days, and any good news is welcome.

“Dad, can I go to the gift shop?” Priscilla asked and I thought I sensed a change in her as well.

“I’ll take you,” I volunteered and Jacoby nodded, clearly grateful for the help. She can go on her own, but I want to go as well. “Come on, kiddo.”

She laughed, wrapping me in a hug before we started walking. We’ve always been close, though she’s drifted away the last year or so. Maybe now we can reconnect and get our close relationship back on track. More than anything, as scary as all this is, I hope this has opened her eyes to what’s going on around her and helped her see that her view of things is a little bit skewed.

My goodness a lot has happened in the Shaddix household these last few months. Now, there's teenage rebellion, then there's Cilla, good grief what has gotten into that child? I thought after her stint volunteering with Molly that she'd sorted herself out but no, she goes right ahead and becomes even more of a brat!
Poor Jimmy, pneumonia out of left field there, I hope he gets better soon cos he really doesn't need this on top of the COPD.
Man, I just wanna hug the entire family right now.

I'm already getting ideas for part 5, though nothing has stuck yet. Some cute stuff, some worrisome stuff, but nothing solid yet.

Yes, a lot has happened in their household of late. I, too, hope Cilla gets her shit together and comes around; you'd think Molly had scared her straight, but I guess not =(

Exactly, especially after that really bad day with the kid who had the meltdown, but no, she's still being a total brat. I guess she really is Jimmy's daughter, in every possible way.