care of him, because it should’ve been me. Not him—me.”
In a hurry, I moved away from her, to take a seat once again on the porch steps. Slowly she came to sit beside me.
“Oh, Blake,” she said softly, laying a hand against my shoulder, “I understand the guilt, but it was an accident. Your life doesn’t have to stop just because—"
“Oh, yeah?” I turned to her. “And what about his life? It consists of watching TV, listening to music, and playing with his dog. So, if that’s the only life he gets to have, then why should I have a better one?”
Her expression drooped with pity and sorrow as her head shook. “If you had a better life, so would he.”
“How the hell do you figure that?”
She offered me a small smile and slid her hand across my shoulders. When her temple touched my arm, I closed my eyes and asked nobody up above to let me keep this. For as long as I could, for as long as I was allowed.
“Part of taking care of someone, is making sure you take care of yourself, and that includes your own happiness. And I know this, because when I’m happy, Freddy is happy,” she explained quietly. “So, if you were happy, Jake would be happy, too.”
I swallowed the information, letting it settle in my gut, before I tipped my cheek to press against the top of her head. “How do you know that’d work?”
“I don’t,” she confessed. “But I’m just guessing because God entrusted me to care for Freddy, and He entrusted you to care for Jake.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“THIS IS NICE,” Mom whispered from beside me.
“Yeah. Sure,” I agreed halfheartedly, albeit reluctantly, as we followed Maggie, Shady Acres’ Assistant Director, down the hallway and toward the facility’s gym.
Shady Acres was the definition of bright and friendly. The staff were attentive, affectionate, and accepting, and after witnessing one of the other residents have a meltdown in the middle of the cafeteria, I knew they were also patient. I knew that if he were to live here, they would care for Jake and do what was best for him, but I still wasn’t entirely convinced that living here was the right answer for him.
After my front porch conversation with Audrey, and all of that God talk, I’d hesitantly begun to think that maybe she was right, to a degree. What quality of life had I really provided him by trudging through each day? He knew I hadn’t been happy. He always knew my colors, whatever the hell that meant to him, and how could that not impact his mood negatively?
Jake trailed behind us with his headphones blasting his favorite Walk the Moon album. He studied every door, every room, with silent scrutiny, and I wished I could get inside his head to know what he was thinking and feeling. But his expression always remained neutral, unmoved, and that only added to my frustration.
“And here’s the gym,” Maggie announced, sweeping an arm into the brightly lit room packed with exercise equipment.
“Where does that go?” Dad asked, pointing toward a glass door on the other side of the room.
“That,” Maggie began, folding her hands over her middle, “leads to our indoor pool. Water therapy has been wonderful for some of our residents.”
“Jake never learned how to swim again,” Mom mentioned astutely.
“Oh, that’s okay! A lot of our residents don’t know how to swim. But,” she continued, “the ones who do, really enjoy it.”
Dad meandered around the gym, touching the bench presses and weight machines like he was checking for flaws in their quality. Then he nodded approvingly and looked toward me. “This is some nice stuff, Blake,” he said. “You should check it out.”
“I’m looking at it, Dad.”
“Yeah, but you could test it out. Make sure it’s good, you know?”
I snorted. “Yeah, Dad. Let me just do a few reps right now for you,” I replied sarcastically, but I walked further into the room to get closer to the equipment and make him happy.
While I’d always found it difficult to read my mother, I knew my father had not only been trying to make this easy on Jake, but on me as well. He knew it had taken a lot for me to open up to the idea, so every step of the way, he had sought my approval. From the bedrooms to the rec rooms, he’d always asked what I thought, if I liked it, as though I was the one moving in instead of