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“You sound qualified, don’t get us wrong,” Clarisse said. “But the center vets these nurses carefully. Background checks. Drug tests. Licensing. It’s safer for us, given our status in the community, if we go through the center.”
I felt myself melting through the floor as I stood there. I was thoroughly embarrassed. Why the hell did I ever think they would take some dinky florist up on some idiotic job offer?
“I completely understand,” I said. “And I’ll be back tomorrow with the daily floral arrangement.”
I nodded my head and walked over to the massive double doors. I didn’t want to be in the house any longer. I felt my hands trembling with embarrassment. Like a kid who had been silently laughed at by all the adults in the room. I threw the doors open and went to take a step, but stopped when I saw the silver leg props of a wheelchair in front of me.
My gaze worked its way up Hayden’s body and found his eyes hooked onto me.
“No,” he said.
I furrowed my brow as his gaze moved over my shoulder.
“She’s not going anywhere.”
“What?” Clarisse asked. “What do you mean?”
“The two of you have been bickering like an old married couple over what to do about a new nurse. So I’m going to settle the argument. She’s hired,” he said.
“What?” I asked.
“You can’t hire her,” Cara said. “She’s… the florist.”
“Who picked me up off the floor without a second wind to give,” he said. “She stays, but I’m leaving.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” Clarisse asked.
“It means I’m hiring her and taking her back home. With me. I’m not staying here any longer.”
“You can’t go back home, Hayden. You have to stay here so we can take care of you,” Clarisse said.
“No, no, no. Let’s hear him out,” Cara said.
“You don’t live here?” I asked.
He looked up into my eyes as I cocked my head.
“This isn’t my home, no,” Hayden said.
“Then if you’re going to hire me, my first decision is that you get home. No wonder you’re not recovering here. You’re not in familiar territory,” I said.
“Hayden, you’re staying here and that’s the end of it,” Clarisse said.
“Mom, he’s right,” Cara said. “We’ve been overriding his decisions for the past two and a half months. If he wants to go home, who are we to stop him?”
“I’m not giving up on my son.”
“No one’s giving up on me,” Hayden said. “But I’m tired of being here. Of wearing the two of you down. I’m going home and I’m hiring—?”
“Grace,” I said.
“I’m going home and I’m hiring Grace as my private nurse. And that’s the last of this discussion I’ll entertain.”
I watched his mother and sister look at one another. Cara was softening quickly towards the idea, probably out of exhaustion and relief. But his mother looked like she was ready to put up a fight. I stepped out of the room and grasped onto Hayden’s wheelchair handles, prepared to wheel him out if they began arguing.
If he really was going to hire me, then his mental health was just as important as his physical health.
