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“Yeah?” I turned to him. “You wouldn’t go out with a woman for more than one date if there was no spark.”
“That’s different. I’m a guy, and I have needs.”
That made me burst out laughing. “And you think women don’t? Let me tell you, I have a vibrator that has had to fill in more than once for a man over the years.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’m not offering details,” I chastised when he shot me a wicked grin.
“You’ve never given me a chance.”
He was only saying that because I told him about my vibrator. “And you wouldn’t want a chance. Not when I tell you that by the time Parker goes to bed, I’m so exhausted that I pass out on the couch. Or that I sometimes forget to do laundry and have to wear the sameclothes twice.”
“Everyone does that.”
“Okay, then you would be fine if I told you that you could never sleep over because Parker crawls into my bed in the middle of the night about three nights a week?”
His thumb drummed a steady rhythm on the steering wheel as he swallowed hard. “Uh…I could go home early.”
“Uh-huh, and that would get old really fast when you have to get up at the crack of dawn for work.”
“Okay, you may have a point, but I still wouldn’t mind hearing more about that vibrator. What color is it?”
“I’m not telling you that,” I laughed.
“Red? No, pink. I bet it’s pink and has multiple settings.”
“All I’ll say is this,” I teased as we pulled into the drive of the nursing home. “Jack does a better job of getting me off than any man I’ve ever been with.”
His face dropped at my admission. I flung the door open and hopped out as he called after me. “That’s just mean! I’m gonna need more details! You can’t walk away and leave a guy hanging like that!”
Two hoursinto my shift and the day was already crazy. The first call was for elder abuse, which was horrific enough to make my stomach churn with disgust and anger. The smell of human waste struck the moment we walked through the door.
I did my best not to cover my nose as I walked through the door, followed by Aaron. With a quick look around the living room, it was clear that the son did nothing to take care of the apartment, let alone his mother. Takeout containers were strewn all over the furniture and the floor. Garbage was piled up in the corners of the room, and I was pretty sure a mouse skittered past my foot as I approached the woman in the wheelchair.
With the TV blaring, I couldn’t hear a word the old woman was trying to say to me, which is what I assume the son intended when heturned the volume up. He was too lazy to take care of his mother, but didn’t want to hear her complain.
Setting my bag down, I knelt beside the eighty-year-old woman in the wheelchair. Smiling at her, I brushed the knotted strands of gray hair behind her ear. I didn’t need to pinch her skin to tell she was severely dehydrated. The dark circles and sunken eyes were enough to give away that this woman was suffering.
“Mrs. Henderson, how are you feeling?”
Her head sort of rolled toward me. I could hear the faint sound of her whimpers now that I was closer, but that damn TV made it impossible to hear anything.
Aaron grabbed the remote off the table and shut it off, then turned to the son. “When was the last time your mother ate something?”
“I just gave her breakfast,” he argued. “I had to work this morning.”
“Why don’t you have someone taking care of her while you’re gone?” he fumed.
“I can’t afford it. What do you want me to do?”
“Take care of her,” Aaron snapped.
“Mrs. Henderson,” I tried again. “When was the last time you had something to drink?”
A keening noise left her lips as her eyes fluttered closed. “I’m so hungry,” she whispered, as if she didn’t have the strength to say it louder.
“She has dementia,” the son argued. “She doesn’t even know what she’s saying.”
