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I started doing theater productions in the summers, so coming back to Jersey in May when the semester ended was out. My third year in school was a game changer. Money was better with Colleen having graduated and I got an off-campus apartment. My parents came out to visit and met Snapper, my glaucoma-afflicted, medical-marijuana-card-carrying neighbor. He was like their soul mate—I swear they would’ve adopted him if he wasn’t forty-seven.
He lives in Oregon now and my parents still send him Christmas cards.
The year I graduated, I came home to be the maid of honor in my sister’s wedding. But then, I sort of became my family’s time-share—their excuse to go on a vacation every year. Them visiting California eventually evolved into all of us picking a different place each year to spend each holiday. Sometimes it was Lake Tahoe, sometimes it was Myrtle Beach . . . but only once in a rare while was it Lakeside, New Jersey.
On Main Street my sister gives two quick beeps on her horn and Ollie Munson waves at our car. I smile and raise my hand against the glass, waving back.
My voice goes soft. “Ollie’s still here, huh?”
Colleen makes a duh face at me. “Of course he is. I would’ve told you if something happened to Ollie.”
A few minutes later, we pull into my parents’ driveway—the same brown ranch I grew up in, with the neat front yard, white wicker chairs on the front stoop, and my mom’s dream-catcher wind chimes hanging beside the door.
“So.” My sister turns the car off. “We need to talk about a schedule. How we’re going to handle Mom and Dad’s recovery.”
It’s the “we” that hits me, right between the eyes. A big red flag with a bull right behind it that signals my life is about to change.
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
It’s been like a tornado since her phone call—a whirlwind of throwing stuff in a bag, getting the first flight to New Jersey that I could, and grabbing a taxi to the hospital.
Colleen’s head tilts with disappointment. “Callie-dally. I realize you have this whole shiny, single life going on in California—but you couldn’t really think I’d be able to do this all by myself.”
Embarrassment thickens in my blood—because that’s exactly what I thought. Maybe it’s little sister syndrome, but Colleen’s always so on top of everything, a regular Super Woman, I’ve never considered there’s something she can’t handle alone.
“Can we hire a nurse?”
“Ah, no. Medicare won’t cover that. Gary does okay at the insurance company—well enough for me to stay home with the kids—but we can’t afford a private nurse. Not for the amount of time they’d need help.”
My brother-in-law, Gary, is a nice, average guy—in every way possible. Medium height, average build, medium brown hair—even the tone of his voice is average—not too deep, not too high, always spoken at a steady, even volume. And like Colleen said, they’re not rolling in dough but he makes a good enough salary to take care of his family, to allow my sister to be the stay-at-home, PTA-warrior, dinner-on-the-table-at-five soccer-mom she always dreamed of being. Just for that, I love the guy way above average.
“I can take care of Mom and Dad during the day, after I get the kids on the bus,” my sister says. “I can take them to their doctor and rehab appointments. But at night, you’re going to have to be here in case they need anything, fixing them dinner, keeping them out of trouble. You know Dad—he’ll be trying to hobble out the door with Mom in his arms and squeeze both their freaking casts into the Buick for a joyride, on day one.”
I laugh. It’s funny because it’s true.
And then I rub my eyes, exhausted, like mustering that laugh took all the energy I had left in my bones.
I give my sister my big news, with considerably less excitement than I’d felt yesterday. “I got a promotion. I’m the new executive director.”
She hugs me tight and strong, the only way Colleen knows how. “That’s awesome! Congratulations—I’m so happy for you.” Then the joy dims on her face. “Is taking time off going to screw that up?”
The tendons in my neck feel stiff and achy. “I don’t . . . think so. I have to look into it, but I’m pretty sure they’ll let me take an emergency family leave and hold the position for me. But the pay for that kind of time off is only a fraction of my normal salary. It won’t cover my rent.”
And if I start dipping into my savings, I can kiss my seals goodbye forever.
My sister skims her palms over the steering wheel, thinking.
“Julie Shriver, the theater teacher at the high school, is pregnant and just got put on bedrest.”
“Julie Shriver is having a baby?” I ask.
