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I open it to find a refill on my tablets. These showed at my place in Florida. I don’t remember paying much attention to the packages but nor did I care.
I don’t know how he’s doing it, opioids being a controlled substance and all, but not worrying about running out is a Godsend.
Honestly, I didn’t think George had it in him.
I make it to the living room to discover it’s already early afternoon. And to find my sister wiping down the counters.
“Morning,” I mumble.
She jumps and turns, whirling on me with a towel.
“Unless you’re planning to strangle me, that’s an odd choice of weapon.”
She throws a hand to her throat as her chest heaves. She pulls out an earbud. “You scared me. I didn’t hear you coming.”
“I shuffle like an old man if I don’t have the walker with me. It’s not like I was sneaking up on you.”
“Well, I’d rather you here and shuffling than…” Her words hang in the air.
I look at the floor. That alternative wasn’t far from the case. I pretend to knock on my head. “I’m too stubborn. You know that.”
“Thank God. I’m counting on your pigheadedness to get you through rehab too.”
“Pot, Kettle. Kettle, Pot.” I move my fingers back and forth in the space between us.
“You know it.” She smiles for the first time as relief washes over her face. She rushes me, wrapping me in a hug.
She steps back, brushing invisible dust off her clothes, “I know, I know. I’m not trying to be a mush. It’s just— Well…” She looks away and when she forces her gaze to mine, continues, “You’re my person. I thought I lost you. And then I kinda did. No return calls. No texts. Nothing from you.”
I avert my eyes. I almost feel shame for how I treated my family during that time, but there was way too much going on.
Physically.
Mentally.
Emotionally.
“I’m sorry, Bright. You didn’t lose me. I lost myself, but I’ll figure it out.”
“You’re damn right you will. I need you.”
“Wait. What’s today’s date?”
“Why?”
“Because I need to mark this down. Did you just admit you needed someone? Brighton Ranger?” I lean around her dramatically to look out the window.
She turns to do the same. “What?”
“I was looking for flying pigs.”
She turns and smacks me on my right elbow. I flinch, not in pain, but fear, and that irks me more than if it had hurt.
“I’m sorry. Lay, I really am. That was thoughtless.”
“It didn’t hurt. Reflexes, that’s all.”
She studies me, her eyes dashing across my face, looking for a lie.
