Protector - Laurel Dewey [40]
“You shouldn’t say ‘God’ and ‘shit’ in the same sentence, Janie.”
“Mike, what the fuck is going on?” He let out a deep breath and kept his eyes pinned on the paper napkin. Jane was at a loss to understand his behavior. “Hey,” Jane said trying to sound empathetic, “I know you’re nervous about seeing the son-of-a-bitch. And I know it’s short notice—”
“Janie—”
“Look, you don’t have to go in. Just stay in the car. I’ll tell him you’re sick.”
“Janie, that’s not all of it.”
“Of course it is, Mike!” Jane said, sounding more like a tired parent.
“Oh, Janie . . .” Mike’s voice trailed off as he stared off to the side again. “Do you believe that everybody has a defining moment in their life? You know, something that alters the course of their existence? Something that turns them into a completely different person? And afterward, nothing is ever the same. Is that possible?”
Jane felt an uncomfortable tremor in her belly. “Yes! We all have defining moments.”
“You think it’s possible to have more than one defining moment in your life?” Mike seemed to struggle with the concept but pressed on. “Like, do you think that you could have a defining moment when you were young and then have another moment that defines you all over again? Does that make sense?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. You’re giving me a headache. What’s all this about?”
Mike stared down at the napkin. “I’m not sure I can talk about it just yet.”
Jane leaned forward. “What do you mean?”
“I need to think about it some more.”
“Think about what? Come on, you always tell me everything.” Jane reached across the table and touched Mike’s hand. “Mike, talk to me. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”
Mike looked at his sister with a guarded eye. “I don’t think you can, Janie.”
The one-hour drive out to their father’s rehabilitation nursing home in the Denver suburb of Wheatridge was completely silent. Jane finished off a half pack of cigarettes while Mike stared out the window, lost in his own world.
It had been over a week since Jane drove out to see Dale. When she’d arrived, her father was fast asleep so she quickly left, not even alerting the nurses to her aborted visit. Prior to that, the last time she had seen her father was weeks before his illness. He’d demanded that she come out to the house after a power outage and reprogram his VCR. That visit lasted less than twenty minutes before she lied about having to get back to work. She knew Dale was aware it was a lie. He could always read her and destroy that carefully constructed wall of protection. From what she had been told by the nurses, Dale’s stroke was enough to permanently place him in a 24-hour care facility for physical reasons, but not so disabling to destroy his mental faculties. Jane wasn’t sure if her father knew she was suspended from the Department but she figured the news would be plastered all over her psyche when she walked into his room.
Jane parked her Mustang across the street from the care facility. She turned to Mike who stared out the window. “You coming in?” she asked. Mike kept his eyes fixed outside and shook his head. “Okay. I won’t be long.” Jane took one long, penetrating drag after another on her cigarette as she neared the front door of the facility. Tossing the butt on the ground, she entered the building. The hallway reeked of ammonia, urine and overcooked broccoli.
“Miss Perry?” a voice called out. Jane turned just in time to encounter the head nurse, Zoe. “Thanks for coming. I know it’s difficult when it’s last minute.”
Jane looked down the hall toward Dale’s room. “What’s going on with him?”
“He has good days and bad days. Today seems to be a good day.”
“Really?” Jane said, not impressed. “What makes it a good day?”
“He’s lucid. He was able to walk to the bathroom with very little help this morning. I don’t want to give you the impression that he could ever return to his home. Even though things are improving, his health is still fragile. Another stroke or heart attack could put him in I.C.U.” Jane nodded. “I want you to know we’re doing everything possible