A Boy I Used to Love(5)

"So you're waiting for some woman to come back?"

"That's one way to put it."

"What kind of tampons do you use?"

"What?"

"Didn't know you had a pussy," Axel said.



       
         
       
        

"What?" I yelled louder.

"You're waiting for some woman to come find you? Why don't you go find her?"

"Trust me, it's not that simple."

"Everything is simple, if you look at it the right way."

That was why I didn't talk about things to people. It wasn't about just finding her and showing up. That was the easy way to do it. But it wasn't the way we agreed to do it. What we'd agreed was to meet up at a certain spot at a certain time. The night she left, I was too drunk to remember the time but I knew the spot. So I made it a promise to myself to show up there every damn year and always be single. Because when I saw her again and I got my hands on her, there would be no letting go.

She was mine. All mine.

She was my …





Lacey





PRESENT DAY





"Lacey!"

I turned, and Becky was racing up the driveway, her hands flailing in the air. I stopped, confused.

What the hell was she doing here?

I waited and when Becky caught up, she dropped her bag to the ground. She was out of breath, but forced a big smile and grabbed my wrist.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I was thinking the same about you," I said.

"Bev told me to stop by today."

"You know that Jenny is mine," I said.

"Well, you've been floating for a while so … "

I sighed. "I'm here right now. I would never miss an appointment. I think everyone knows that."

"I'm not saying a thing," Becky said.

She was a cold and calculating bitch. Everyone hated her but nobody could ever actually ignore her. She was always in your face and forever in the way. I worked in private nursing and took care of those who were on hospice care. I'd been coming to Jenny's house for almost two years. I'd seen her through the worst of her cancer and treatment. I'd sat there at the table with her and her family with the doctor on the phone as they made the decision to stop treatment and let nature take its course. Yeah, I had dealt with my own personal tragedy since that time, but that was life. I wasn't quitting. I wasn't giving up or giving in on anything. When I needed time off, I made sure to make arrangements.

I stared at Becky and knew there was no winning this.

"We can go inside together," I said.

"That's fine," Becky said. "Let me shoot Bev a text. Just so she knows we're both here together."

Kiss ass.

I opened the door and took a deep breath. This was one of the hardest parts of the job: that initial walkthrough of the house. You never knew what you'd find. It had happened to me many times before, finding out that someone had passed. 

But Jenny was a tough cookie.

So tough that even at the age of seventy and being almost crippled from cancer spreading through her body, I found her standing on a chair with a duster, cleaning off a ceiling fan. The sight shocked me. I knew better than to scare her, but Becky was right behind me.

"Oh my goodness!" Becky yelled.

Jenny let out a yelp and dropped the duster. It smacked her right in the face and she started to fall back. I dove forward and somehow made it just in time to keep her from falling. If she had fallen, everything would have broken. She was that brittle.

My hand pressed against her back and all I felt were weak bones. I grabbed her hand and she looked down at me.

"Jenny, it's me," I said.

"Lacey!" she said.

Blood trickled down the bridge of her nose from where the duster had smacked her.

"Why don't you come down? Let me help with that."

"Mrs. Vennerson!" Becky yelled. "You cannot be doing this on your own!"

I got Jenny off the chair. She looked at Becky. "Who are you?"

"I'm Becky. I'm here to help."

Becky was talking loudly as though Jenny were deaf and unable to process words.

Jenny looked at me. "Why's she yelling at me?"

I smiled. "We need to get you into bed. How do you feel?"

"Not so good," Jenny said.

She looked pale. She looked tired. Her eyes were almost hollowed sockets. She had gone bald a long time ago but since stopping treatment some had tried to grow back. It didn't come in clearly or evenly, but she wore her illness and scars proudly. Hell, she wore death proudly.

"You need to get back into bed," Becky said. "We need to check all her stats. Mark this down. Call it in. I'll get the paperwork. We might need to discuss having someone more permanent here if she's a risk."