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CHAPTERFOURTEEN
POPPY
“Poppy. It feels like forever since I’ve seen you,” Mom scolds as I rush into her room. She’s right.
Coming in closer, I give her a kiss on the cheek. “Oh, Mom. I’m so sorry. It’s been a rough few weeks at work. Several of the pharmacists I work with have taken longer vacations than normal, so I’ve been working a lot of overtime.”
“What?” Mom squawks.
“I’ve been working overtime. Everyone is on vacation,” I shout.
“You’re the one that needs the vacation.”
Don’t I know it.
“How’ve you been? I’ve called Jasmine to check on you. I know how difficult it is to talk on the phone with your hearing.”
“Everything is good. Just get lonely.” A wave of guilt hits me that I haven’t been better about coming by. These long days catch up with me, and I feel like all I want to do on my day off is rest. Mom has so many folks around here to socialize with. And activities to participate in. I think I’ve let that give me a false sense that she’s okay without me.
“I’ll try to get better about visiting. Hopefully, Frank and Marshall are done with their summer trips.”
“Why don’t you go somewhere nice, Poppy?”
“Yeah, why don’t you go somewhere?” Agnes asks as she hobbles into the room with a walker, a tall, handsome, dark-haired gentleman in navy scrubs by her side. That’s odd. She occasionally uses a walker to get around, but not always. Yet I’ve never known her to need physical therapy.
“I just might,” I joke.Right, Poppy.
Okay, I admit it. I may have dreamed of the warm sand of Jamaica under my feet a time or two since turning in my entry form nearly a month ago. But it was a nice diversion from my norm, where I work all day, hit the gym, eat dinner alone, and have a long soak in the tub with a book.
The excitement of the staff has waned over the last few weeks. I assume HR has chosen the winners, as the deadline to turn in the entry forms was almost three weeks ago. The buzz around the hospital is that a new opportunity to win something will be coming soon. C’est la vie. It was fun dreaming about it while it lasted.
“Where are you going?” my mother asks with a hopeful glint in her eye. Where on earth does she want me to go?
“I don’t know. I was thinking I might go to Blacksburg for a short trip and visit Ian, Rita, and the kids.”
“Posh!” Agnes blurts. Her outburst must take her therapist as much by surprise as it has me. He nearly jumps five feet in the air.
“Do you need anything else from me before I go, Ms. Agnes?”
“I don’t think I can answer that in mixed company, Ricardo,” Agnes says as she fans herself. “But I thank you for the pleasant stroll through Hanover Haven. It’s been a while since I had such a pleasant walk with a man.”
I roll my eyes, feeling sorry for whatever poor Ricardo likely endured during that walk.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he adds before exiting the room.
Walking around the end of Mom’s bed, I take a seat on the edge and look at Agnes. “I didn’t realize you were receiving PT. Did something happen?”
“She fell down,” my mother yells.
“Tattle tale.” Agnes gives Mom the stink eye. “It was nothing. I slipped on the wet bathroom tile and landed on my rump. Nothing got hurt but my pride.”
I shake my head, knowing neither my mother’s nor Agnes’ bones could withstand too hard of a fall on the shower floor without risking a broken hip. “The bathroom is the most dangerous room in the house.”
“Our dining room is the most dangerous place in this house.” Agnes frowns.
“Do they just have physical therapy coming here as a precaution?”
My mother giggles, drawing my attention. “She said she’d need them to help her get her strength back. I think she just wanted to get Ricardo all to herself.”
