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“That’s what you said last time,” I point out, raising an eyebrow at the old man.
He tries his hardest to scowl, but a smile is buried deep down there somewhere. He even lets me see it sometimes.
“But fine, one more. Then you get ready for bed while I get your meds.”
A spark of triumph lights up Raul’s brown eyes, making him look like a mischievous little kid as he gathers the Connect Four pieces and separates them into colors. How can anyone not find him adorable?
When I first took the job, Raul was a little rough around the edges. We had some hard days where he was a stubborn jerk, but I showed him I’m equally as stubborn when it comes to taking care of people. It’s my job as an in-home nurse and caregiver, and truly an act of love for each of my clients.
I know all too well what it’s like having gruff, jaded healthcare workers mishandling the most important person in my life. I want to make sure I treat everyone with the kindness and grace I wish had been afforded to my mother.
“Ready?” I ask, pushing away the painful memories of those last few months of her life.
“Born ready,” Raul replies, his eyes focused on the slotted game board positioned between us.
I smile at his seriousness over a simple children’s game. The second week I worked for the Santarossas, I picked up a few board and card games from a local thrift shop and brought them over. I wasn’t sure if Raul would go for it, and for a while, he didn’t. The games sat in the corner of the living room, unopened.
Then one morning, I arrived early and set up the Connect Four game on the kitchen table, along with a deck of Uno cards. Raul wanted nothing to do with the cards, but he quickly became fascinated with the strategy behind Connect Four. We played a few rounds that morning, and he tried to act disinterested. However, when I moved to put it away, he stopped me and asked for one more game.
Now, we play Connect Four almost every evening before bed.
I drop one of my red chips into a slot on the board and watch in amusement as Raul furrows his brow. He glances at his black chips, then back to the rows and columns on the board.
Everyone at the in-home nursing agency I work for warned me away from taking the Santarossa job, saying the old man’s bad attitude was only rivaled by his son’s. After one conversation with Raul, I knew he was a softie at heart. He has a prickly exterior to scare people off and a lot of shame about his past that keeps him isolated.
He just needed someone to be kind and patient and give him the benefit of the doubt. Raul also needed someone to stand up to him and let him know when he was being an asshole. So far, I’ve managed the perfect balance of each.
I wish those tactics worked on his son.
Dropping another red chip onto the board, I laugh when Raul curses under his breath.
I may have cracked the code on Mr. Santarossa, but Dante is a different story. He’s gruff like his father but more detached. Very professional, yet cold and stiff. Stuck-up. A smirk spreads across my face as I remember his response to trying meditation.
I have never, and will never, meditate.
Speaking of Dante, it’s probably time I tell Raul about his visit. Truthfully, I wasn’t expecting Dante to give in. I’ve been needling him about coming to Chicago for weeks, if not months. Now that he’s booking a flight and headed this way, I need to figure out how to break the news to Raul.
I put my last red chip into one of the remaining slots and watch Raul grin from ear to ear as he plays his last chip, getting a connect four. This is as good a time as any since this is the only time he allows himself to feel happiness.
“I’ve got some good news,” I start, plastering on an enthusiastic smile.
“Is it that I won for the fifth time in a row?” he gloats.
I roll my eyes and start to put the game away. “It’s about your son.”
Raul drops the chips he’s holding and blinks a few times before looking up at me.
I’m on a roll now, so I keep going. “He’s coming for a visit. Isn’t that great?”
Dark brown eyes fix on mine, and while he’s trying to be angry, I see his true emotion. Fear.
“Why?”
“To see you, of course,” I answer lightly.
Raul snorts. “When?”
“Tomorrow.”
