“I don’t know, have you been a good boy?” She smiles down at her son and my heart breaks. As she bends down to hug him, I pull out my phone to take a picture. I’ve never done this in the past, but I knew helping this family wasn’t going to be like the others. I want to do whatever I can to make sure Jacob will have something to remember his mother by long after she’s gone.
Jacob nods his head furiously. “I have been a good boy! Ask Daddy, he talked to Miss Pam today and she told him that I didn’t get any yellow or red marks at school.”
I excuse myself, carrying the bags to Alyssa’s bedroom. Xavier stops me in my tracks as I turn the corner to go down the hall. “Why did you let her do that?” he asks. After looking at his strong hand wrapped around my bicep, I look up to his face, fully expecting to see a disapproving glare, not worry, in his dark blue eyes.
“Because Christmas is just around the corner and she wanted to go shopping,” I respond, rolling my eyes. I jerk my arm free and continue walking down the hall. Alyssa told me where to stash everything while we drove home, knowing that her husband and son wouldn’t allow her a moment of peace when she walked through the door after being liberated for the day.
“She could have done that online,” he points out, stepping in front of me once again. What he fails to think about is the fact that this house is becoming a prison to Alyssa. While we do need to be careful, keeping her in the relative safety of her own home won’t do anything to change what is going on. And a trip to the mall is no worse than having a four year old who goes to daycare running through the house.
“Xavier, you have to let her live,” I say, pushing my way past him. I’m not the submissive girl I used to be. That girl died on the living room floor six years ago. “I get that you’re worried about her, but this is my job. You should know by now that I wouldn’t let her keep going if she was getting too tired.”
Heavy footsteps echo off the walls behind me. I turn into the bedroom, leaving the door open. “That’s the problem,” he grumbles. I swat his hand away when he tries to peek in the bags. She bought a few things for him and I’m not about to let him ruin the surprise. “She won’t tell you when she gets tired. She’s acting like nothing’s wrong when we all know it is.”
I slam the closet door shut behind me and spin around to look at him. I square my shoulders as I take a step into his personal space. “Do you seriously think I need her to tell me when she gets tired? Alyssa is the ninth client I have helped through this completely shitty stage of life. The first day I came into your house, you asked me if I was capable of doing my job and I guaranteed you then that I was. It’s not because I was in the top tenth of my graduating class or because I had the highest praise from the doctors I worked with before transitioning into hospice. It’s because I do everything I can to give my patients the quality of life they deserve right up until they take their last breath.”
Xavier’s eyes are wide when I stop long enough to take a breath. I can tell by the smug grin on his face that he’s enjoying watching me challenge him this way. “If you have a problem with that, I think you had better prepare to explain to your wife why you asked the agency to assign a different caretaker to her case.”
“Damn, Mel,” Xavier says quietly. “It’s good to see the feisty brat I used to know is still in there somewhere.” I bristle at his words, wanting to pound my fists into his chest. He does not get to call me a brat anymore. That was one of his favorite nicknames for me when we were together. He lost that right when he tossed me to the side for a momentary lapse in judgment. “From now on, I would appreciate it if you would call me before going on any outings. You might be her companion and nurse, but I am her husband.”
Not wanting to make a scene, I purse my lips, anxious for him to leave the room. I close my eyes tightly, staring up at the ceiling once he’s gone, reminding myself that I can do this.
“Xavier, do you think Mel would be willing to come over tomorrow night if you paid her extra?” Alyssa’s sitting on the living room floor wrapping a mountain of presents. She and Melanie have gone shopping at least four times this month and my credit card is thankful that Christmas is only two days away.
“She probably has plans already, Al. I think asking her to give up Christmas with her family is a bit much.” I know damn well that’s a lie. If Melanie was going home for Christmas, she would have been on a plane to Vermont days ago.