every fleeting moment with his nurse. She was infuriating in her own right, like the way she mysteriously knew of his condition without apparently knowing him, but she was also endearing and sweet. It was her job to be, I understood that, but it was still a comfort I found myself needing.
“Hey,” I grunted, wishing I was capable of sounding a little happier to see her.
“You guys excited to be out of here today?”
Under her arm, she carried a folder that contained, I’m assuming, Pops’s discharge papers. The doctor had given him the okay to get back home, with strict instructions to come right back if he had any chest pain or difficulty breathing. Pops had nodded eagerly, ready to get the hell out of the hospital, while I wished my older sister and brother were there to handle this shit instead of me.
I shrugged. “Sure, yeah.”
Pops scoffed. “What kinda question is that? Of course, I’m excited to get the hell out of here.”
Andy laughed, meeting my eye. “You’ll be happy to get some sleep without being woken up every couple of hours.”
“You’re damn right,” Pops grumbled, slipping his feet into his loafers.
I sniffed a quiet laugh, not so sure I agreed. Sure, I was looking forward to my bed and trading the beeping of machines with the symphony of the streets, but I wasn’t prepared to become his caregiver. I wasn’t prepared to wait quietly for him to die. Nothing could prepare me for that.
“Now, you’re not going to be alone, right?” Andy asked, laying the folder on his bed and flipping it open.
Pops shook his head as I said, “No, he lives with me.”
Admitting that to women was always difficult, but now, it rolled off my tongue without any shame. She wasn’t asking to speculate or criticize; she was just doing her job. Still, I waited for a sign of judgment. A barely-there smirk, or a nearly-silent chuckle—anything to make me dislike her. But it didn’t come.
She smiled. “Is that a new arrangement?”
“Nah,” I said, surprised by how easily I could tell her the truth. “I’ve lived with the old man my whole life.”
“And you guys haven’t killed each other yet?” she teased, her eyes volleying between my father and me.
“We’ve come close.” I swatted the back of my hand lightly against my father’s shoulder. “Right, Pops?”
He snorted with a nod. “That’s for damn sure.” His eye met mine, revealing a glimmer of morose. “I guess my heart beat you to it, huh?”
My gaze dropped to the floor as I forced a grunted laugh. “Guess so.”
Pops excused himself and shuffled off to the bathroom, dragging the oxygen tank behind him and refusing help from both Andy and me. With the bathroom door shut, I felt like I could breathe again, as I ground the palms of my hands into my eyes and took noisy, deep breaths, in and out. In that moment, I’d forgotten she was standing there at the foot of the bed, thumbing through the folder’s contents. I forgot she could see me, as I struggled to maintain my strength and composure, but even if I hadn’t forgotten, I’m not sure I would’ve cared.
“How you holding up?” she asked, and I dropped my hands to my sides.
It took a couple of seconds for my vision to clear and for my eyes to focus on her, but when they did, I fell momentarily silent, finding a semblance of calm in just looking at her and the messy pile of her blonde hair.
“Um, okay,” I lied, bringing my thumbnail to my teeth. “Hangin’ in there.”
Andy narrowed her eyes. “You know you can tell me the truth, right?”
“Who says I’m not?”
“Gnawing your fingernails off kinda gave you away.”
With a groan, I pried my hand from my mouth. “I’m fine,” I insisted, turning away from her and walking toward the window. “I’m just not sure I can keep handlin’ this shit by myself.”
“What shit?”
I thrust my hand toward the bathroom door and said, keeping my voice low, “This. Taking care of him.”
“What do you think you can’t handle?”
I growled through my frustration, gripping my hair with my fingers and gritting my teeth. “He’s got a million fuckin’ medications to take. He’s got tanks of oxygen. He’s got … I dunno! All kinds of crap to keep track of. What if I can’t keep it all straight? What if, I dunno, what if I screw up and … you know …”
“Vinnie.” She had this way of saying my name that felt