to have overnight guests.”
Josie propped her elbows on the table, cutting me out of the negotiations as best she could. “Totally get it. But I know we can figure it out, Peepaw. I mean, do they check on you at night? Like, after the lights go out?”
Carl suppressed a smile at hearing his name like that. “Not really, not unless we push our help buttons.”
“Okay. So . . . it’s easy. Why don’t I just come for breakfast like this, hang out, leave after dinner, then I’ll pop in your window to crash. In the morning, I’ll pop back out and come for breakfast again. No one will ever know. What do you think?”
“I think it’s stupid,” I said.
Carl took a break from nodding and hunched forward so he could see me better around Josie. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Besides everything,” I said, “where the hell is she going to sleep?”
Finally, Josie regarded me. “You guys have that recliner in the corner of your room.”
“You’re not sleeping on a daggone recliner,” Carl said.
“Why not?” I asked.
“She’s a lady.”
“So what?” I blustered, though really I was thinking she hardly qualified.
Carl squared his shoulders, jutted his chin. For a moment, he looked like the man in the black-and-white picture taped to our mirror—the man from fifty years ago with the smart haircut and the tight neck and his arm hooked for his new bride’s hand. A real gentleman, that man.
“She’ll sleep in my bed, and I’ll sleep in the recliner,” he said.
And so this is how he shamed me. By being like he is.
“Now wait a minute,” I said. “You know your hip won’t let you walk for days if you spend any amount of time in that chair.”
Carl shrugged. Josie appeared unmoved, which gave me yet another reason to find her distasteful. But that was beside the point. It looked like Carl had no intention of turning her to the streets, and I had no intention of letting Carl be more disabled than he already was. I got sore as a boil on the days I had to push him around in a wheelchair to get him to wherever we were going.
“Oh, fine,” I said, crossing my arms. “I’ll sleep in the damn chair. It makes more sense.”
This offer quieted Josie and prompted Carl to look at me with this unrestricted delight that was both a thank-you and a holy-shit-we’re-going-to-do-this glee. And despite myself, I joined him in it, because how could you deny that breaking the rules was just a little bit fun.
Truth be told, I’d only really given up entertaining myself that way when I got to Centennial. I’d never forget the very first time I toured the place. It was colder than blue-belly hell that day, and the sky was dropping swollen raindrops that would’ve been snow had the temperature given up another degree or two. The overcast afternoon and water-streaked windows lent the inside of the building a distinct snugness—a warm gray without the grimness. They’d turned the fireplace on, and there were board games and soft music and people shuffling this way and that with convincing purpose.
After suffering some serious consternation about the money and the necessity and everything else that goes along with admitting you can’t—shouldn’t—do it on your own anymore, I decided I needed this exact sort of hug at the end of my life. Especially considering that Simmons was my only alternative.
When I finally arrived, I promised myself I’d behave. I wouldn’t give this place up. Not for anything. Not for anybody.
And I couldn’t let myself forget that. Sure, our little scheme gave me a fun skydiving buzz, but I reserved the right to pull my chute at any time, and I wouldn’t forget where I had to land in the end. And it was here.
There was no other place but here.
* * *
* * *
Carl had settled in, pert as a cricket, covering everything for Josie, from the week’s schedule to the weather, like we were going on a goddamn cruise. The way he ran his mouth