They were wrong. He had looked like my granddad. Not sick, not weak. Just…him, and I had no idea what to do or say or feel.
The memory still hurt. I had wanted to comfort him, but even that turned awkward and confusing. Our family and the doctors looked to me like I knew what we had to do, who to talk to, how to get the information I needed from the hospital and insurance and the police and fire marshals…
No one gave me the instructions for what to do when the child became the caretaker. Suddenly, I was taking more and more responsibilities away from Granddad so I could manage his health. The only advice I had from friends and family were the choices that infringed on Granddad’s privacy. The ones that hurt his pride. But it had to be done. I made those decisions, and I lost my grandfather.
Nobody deserved to be reduced to their ailments, but Granddad had nothing left. He hated being on oxygen. He couldn’t do the things he used to do, see the people he used to see, and most of our family was dead and buried long ago. How was I supposed to comfort a man who lost his best years and saw the remaining as a death sentence?
At least I had cupcakes this time. The Davis household prepared for the worst with baked goods now. It helped. At least our sorrows could go to our thighs and be worked off like everything else.
I forced a smile and went to his bedside.
He was asleep, which relieved me. Wasn’t sure what I’d say except the same things I said every time I visited. I love you. How are you feeling? Can I get you anything? The platitudes lost their impact when he no longer loved himself. He never felt well, and I could give him nothing to help him through these hard times.
Admitting that he was sick was hard. Knowing I couldn’t give more help because we had no money that wasn’t tied to his gambling debts was even worse.
His oxygen pumped harder than usual—ten liters. It hissed too loud, and it’d be uncomfortable for him. Usually he sucked on cough drops since the oxygen made his throat scratchy. I forgot to buy him a new bag. Too much happening and not enough attention on the things that mattered.
Family.
The man who raised me.
The one who tried so hard to instill good values, morality, and kindness in me…even when he suffered from his own vices.
Well, it was changing. And this time I meant it. Every time his health deteriorated I swore I’d do something different—more visits, different doctors, a new plan. It never worked, but this time wasn’t like before. I let myself get distracted. Gave my heart to a man who cared so little for me he’d work for the bastard who caused Granddad’s illnesses.
He needed the money, Maddox said. Didn’t we all? Couldn’t selling my property buy better treatments for Granddad? Clearing his debts would let me rebuild my shop. A little luck could turn everything around.
“Granddad?” I took his hand. He felt cold, but he always did. Said he busted the nerves when he was shocked one too many times doing electrical work. “How are you doing?”
His eyes opened, hidden under bushy eyebrows that turned the same wispy white as the five o’clock shadow on his chin. He looked…paler. It was strange. I always thought our skin shared the same shade. Even my mother hadn’t been as dark—though I only remembered her from the pictures before the accident. They were lost in the fire too. Hell, I couldn’t imagine her or my dad now, even if I wanted to. It never mattered before, not when I had Granddad.
But how much longer would I have him?
“Jo-Jo, it’s late.” He opened his eyes. “You should be home.”
“It’s only nine, Granddad.”
“And if you want to live to a healthy age like me…” The joke was lost in a wracking cough that hurt my own lungs. He gave up on the smile too, waving his hand. “Go home. You don’t want to be here with an old man.”
“No old man here.” I reached for his water before he did, pouring him a glass. “Just a big baby. Let me help you.”
“I’m fine.”
“They said you took too many of your pills.”
His eyes closed again. “What do the doctors know?”
“Um. A lot. Like…that you took too much medication. If you want the nurses to help—”
“Stop worrying, Jo-Jo.” His words