AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He’s had a mild stroke, but his test results revealed all sorts of warning signs and the doctors here have told him if he doesn’t make major lifestyle changes, he’s in big trouble. Beyond the mild stroke, he had a fender bender in his car when it happened because he lost control of his faculties for a minute and ran over a paper box, garbage can, and wound up with his fender wedged into the corner of a brick warehouse.
He’s only relieved it was his old pickup and not his Mustang.
He seems okay, physically, other than some stitches on his forehead from hitting his head, and it seems like he’s communicating slower. Despite that, he’s also making it known he doesn’t want my help.
“My sister died of a stroke, my grandfather did, too. Might just be my fate, kid.”
“Not if I can help it. This was a big warning sign with flashing lights, Dad. And if you improve your lifestyle, you’re young enough that-”
“Bah!” He waves his hand.
I dig my heels in. “Dad, I’m coming with you, I said, now let’s go. I’m not gonna stay forever and drive you up the wall if you don’t want me to, but I’m staying for at least a week to make sure you’re all right. The first week after a mild stroke has the biggest chance for another more serious one.”
“When did you get so… mouthy?”
I roll my eyes.
When I get outside and am about to flag down a cab, I see Austin getting out of a NYC yellow taxi, heading toward me.
I’m shocked. I wait until he’s close enough to hear me ask, “Wh-what are you doing here?”
Here. In New Jersey.
“I’m here to find out what’s happening, to see you.” He looks between me and my father, who’s sitting in a wheelchair, eyeing Austin with interest.
“My father had a car accident and a stroke, and I’ve got to stay with him for a couple days. I’m waiting on a taxi to get him home and then I’ll be over tomorrow to make dinner and drop off food, and then – shit, your lunch. Fuck, what if I make it while I’m at my dad’s and then I’ll bring it to you at work in the morning. I’ll do that. I’ll…”
“Jada. Fuck lunch. Here.” He waves at the car that dropped him off to come back. It pulls a U-turn to get to us.
“Do what you have to do. Text me when you get your dad settled. Hello, Sir. I’m Austin. Austin Carmichael.”
Dad looks at Austin like he’s grown horns or something.
“Rich Miller,” Dad says belatedly, extending his hand.
Austin shakes it. “Sorry you had a health scare, Mr. Miller. I’ll let you and Jada get going. Jada, text me, please?”
“Uh, yeah, all right,” I say and then I watch Austin spot my father as he carefully gets into the front seat of the taxi.
Dad allows this. Which is weird. Austin moves the wheelchair out of the way and closes Dad’s door.
I’m thrown.
“Text me,” Austin repeats and opens the back door.
I nod and get into the back seat and then Austin closes the door and taps the hood.
***
Two hours later, my phone signals an incoming text.
Austin: Is everything ok?
I stare at the phone for a few minutes before I make myself reply.
Me: Yes, thx. I’ll be there tomorrow to do what I need to do and grab some of my clothes and my computer. I’ll be staying here at night, but I’ll still do my job during the day, not to worry.
Austin: Why didn’t you tell me?
Ouch. Like you’d really want to know, Austin Groucho the Third. I sneer at my phone and put it down.
***
I’m sitting on the couch, watching the eleven o’clock news with my father, who’s sitting in his recliner, staring at the television with a miserable look on his face. Dad has been nodding for the past hour but refuses to go to bed until after the news.
“Want anything else to drink? More tea, Dad?”
“I want a beer, Jada.”
“You can’t have another beer, Dad.”
Dad mumbles something under his breath and lights a cigarette, staring at the TV.
He’s ignoring doctor’s orders to stop smoking, and he’s already told me to ‘lay off’ about it.
Then he looks at me and says, “Fuck this. This is my house and I’m havin’ a beer.”
He goes to the kitchen, moving slowly like he’s sore, likely from the whiplash of the car accident or maybe because his brain isn’t totally working properly, and gets himself a beer.
I roll my eyes as he sits back down in his creaky, old, smelly recliner.
Dad also wanted steak and eggs and home fries for dinner, but I made him skinless chicken and steamed vegetables. Dad isn’t real thrilled with me being his caregiver right now but that’s just too bad.
