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She takes a deep breath, probably counting to ten so she doesn’t act like a foolish snob again, and eventually nods. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Dad! How you coming in there?” I ask, knowing he grabbed the clothes already when I heard the door open and close quickly.
“It’s uh… interesting. I can’t say that I’ve worn these type of pants before.”
I bet he hasn’t.
He emerges from the bathroom and Mom’s hand stalls from where she’s standing in front of the mirror applying mascara.
“Robert.”
“How do I look?”
“Great!” I shout, a little too loudly.
Dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, he looks nothing like the dad I am used to. But I must say, he pulls it off pretty well.
“Your face,” Mom says. “You didn’t shave?”
“Didn’t have a razor.” He shrugs. “Do I just wear my dress shoes?”
I bark out a laugh. “No. I picked up some canvas slip-on shoes for you. They’re pretty comfortable, actually.”
After Mom dries her hair, complaining a little more about the lack of product and tools to get it just right, we head out the door.
“You look nice, Celeste.”
“Don’t be rude, Robert.”
“How is that rude? I was giving you a compliment. I mean it. I really like those pants.”
“I sound silly, walking around making all this noise with these sandals.”
“No, you don’t, Mom.”
“How are we getting to the hospital?” Dad wonders.
“It’s only three blocks away so we’ll just walk there. Fresh air will do you both some good. There’s a Starbucks along the way so we can pick up some coffee and something to eat.”
“Coffee,” Mom practically moans. “I think I’ll need three to get through the day.”
I laugh. “I need three cups on a normal day.”
As we’re walking along, I notice Mom and Dad lightening up, taking in their surroundings. Mom continues to fuss with her clothes but Dad looks confident and relaxed, all things considered.
“Here we are,” I tell them, opening the door to the Starbucks.
We place our order for coffee and sandwiches and each grab a bottle of water and protein box that has some fruit, cheese, and crackers for later. I pick up something for Brooklyn as well, knowing she’ll likely be pretty hungry by the time we get there.
“Are we eating this at the hospital?”
“I’d like to get back there, yeah. Brooklyn’s been alone with Aunt Dorothy for a few hours and it would be nice to give her a break.”
Dad nods. “Sounds good.”
He lifts the bag of food from the counter and hands Mom her coffee while I carry mine and Brooklyn’s Refresher and I lead the way to the hospital.
We check in at reception to let them know which room we’re going to and ride the elevator up to the third floor and walk down the hallway to Aunt Dorothy’s room.
