“Oh,” she said, sounding placidly perplexed. “That’s nice, dear.”
Then silence.
I cleared my throat and asked, “How are you feeling?”
“I’m very well but somebody keeps breaking into my house.”
Oh no. Not again. “Why do you say that?”
“That man is back, the one who knocks on my window at night. And my clothes are being stolen.”
My heart sank. “Oh my, that’s terrible.” There was no point trying to reason with a dementia patient. They believed what they believed and telling them otherwise often caused undue distress. “Maybe I can talk to somebody about that for you.”
“Please do.” Her voice was weak. “When are you coming to get me, June bug?”
My eyes closed and sadness took me. I bit my lip to stop myself from crying.
Nanna was getting worse.
Voice unsteady, I told her, “As soon as I can, okay?” I felt like scum when I openly lied. “I promise.”
“Okay, dear. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Tears filled my eyes. My voice shook. “I love you… Mom.” And my chest ached.
“And I love you, Ju—”
My heart couldn’t take it. I hung up.
Covering my mouth with my hands, my face crumbled and I let the sorrow I felt take over. I wept silently until there were no tears left to cry. I lowered my hands, hugging myself tightly.
This was for her.
I was doing this for her.
So, what would I do when the inevitable happened, when she passed on and I no longer needed to work for Left Turn?
It was a depressing thought and not one I wanted to think about right now.
Suddenly, the door to the suite was opened and Connor strolled in, whistling cheerfully. “Forgot my lucky pick.” Thankfully, he didn’t even look at me.
I spun around to hide my red and blotchy face.
When he left his room, he started talking, “Hey, can you pick up some of that shampoo I like?”
With my back to him, I nodded. “Sure thing.”
I don’t know how he felt something was off but he appeared in front of me and searched my face. “Emmy.” He frowned then gently touched my arm. “Why are you crying?”
My smile was forced and I tried to speak as normally as possible. “No reason.”
Connor’s frown deepened. He looked confused. “So,” he drawled, “you just like to cry in your spare time?”
It sounded ridiculous.
I didn’t want to lie, so all I did was smile and nod.
His brow creased in bafflement, he started toward the door and laughed softly. “Okay. Well, you have fun with that.”
“I will,” I responded stupidly and when the door shut, I sighed and lowered my head onto the kitchen counter with a dull thud.
I had a feeling today would be one of those days.
“Do you ever get lonely?”
It was our first night in Denver and just as I’d been hoping, Connor arrived at my hotel room just after midnight.
“Oh, is it that time again?” Connor smiled at me and I felt ashamed for asking such an intrusive question. “Baby, does it look like I get lonely?” He smirked. “Every single day, I’ve got something lined up for me. My life’s a party that never stops. I travel the world and meet some lit people. I always got a Betty to warm my bed. Get to hang with my buds all day, every day. The entire world watches me with an eagle eye just to post pictures of my bulge on the Internet. Women wanna fuck me. Men wanna be me. I’m probably the luckiest bastard to ever live. So, to answer your question…” He took pause. “Yeah, I get lonely.” A long moment passed and we continued to look into each other’s eyes. “Do you?”
I thought about it and when I replied, my response was whisper-soft. “I think I was born lonely.”
I felt stupid for saying what I had but Connor’s eyes held an understanding to them and, in an instant, our bond grew a fraction. We were a puzzle comprised of different shapes and sizes but for a single moment, our pieces fit.
In understanding, we were perfectly matched.
I didn’t know what he was thinking. I rarely did. But I felt the need to say something to my friend. “If you’re ever feeling lonely, come find me.” I took in a breath and responded on an exhale, “We can be lonely together.”
His face became void of emotion but changed in an instant. His eyes narrowed on me. “Are you coming onto me?”
Classic Connor, unable to deal with his own feelings and emotions,