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The former farmhouse was familiar in its shape and floor plan. Josiah had been inside plenty since he began his career as an in-home caregiver. Stairs straight ahead, rooms off to both sides. Everything boxy with low archways and scuffed wood floors that creaked with every step. Decor that was at least three decades old, if not older, but somehow still charming.
Michael led him into a cluttered living room. “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got coffee in the pot still.”
“A glass of water would be nice, thank you.”
“Sure. One minute.” Michael disappeared into the next room.
Josiah took the brief moment to study the living room and its dimensions. His client would need an electric bed for at least the first few months of his recovery and this room seemed large enough to fit one, if they moved a few pieces of furniture around. A bedroom would be more private, but most clients benefited from being in an active part of the house so they could have more human contact.
The one thing he didn’t see many of in this living room, unlike many other homes he’d been in, were family photos. One dusty picture of a man and woman on their wedding day that he assumed was Elmer and his late wife, but that was it. No photos of Michael, or Michael and his parents. Only a few completed, framed puzzles and some metal things he assumed were some of Elmer’s folk art. One kind of resembled a horse if he tilted his head just so.
“Here you go.”
Josiah released an undignified yelp at the sound of Michael’s voice nearby. He hadn’t heard the man approach, and he hated the way he flinched and took a step backward. Michael’s calm smile flickered briefly, one hand outstretched with a plastic cup of water. His other hand held a coffee mug, which meant a slap wasn’t coming for Josiah acting like a paranoid idiot.
“Sorry, man,” Michael said softly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay, I got lost in thought.” He accepted the cup of water and sipped to wet his suddenly dry throat. “Thank you.”
“Sure. Please, have a seat. Anywhere you want’s fine.” Michael took a wooden rocking chair that creaked ominously under his weight, then blew over his steaming mug of coffee. “I feel like I’ve been living on coffee for the last twenty-four hours.”
“That can happen during a crisis.” Josiah perched on the edge of a faded floral sofa and put his folders down so he could clutch his cup with both hands. “Sometimes our bodies run on instinct, finding what fuel we can wherever we can. I’m not here to judge you, Mr. Pearce, only to discuss your father’s care going forward.”
“Call me Michael, please. The only time anyone ever called me Mr. Pearce was during investor meetings a lifetime ago.”
“Investors for your work?”
“Yeah.” Michael grimaced. “Work I’m very much not doing anymore.”
Unsure by the man’s inflection if that was a good thing or a bad thing, Josiah steered their conversation back to relevant matters. “I appreciate you being here to help with your father’s arrangements. It’s always good to have another family member around to coordinate posthospital care, especially the kind your father will need.” He handed a folder over to Michael. “This is my résumé, relevant work experience, as well as referrals from several past clients and their families.”
“Thank you.” Michael put the folder on a side table without glancing at it.
Josiah wasn’t sure how to take that, as this was an interview. Was he wasting his time with this job or what?
“I need someone with flexible hours to start, until I find a job around here and know my work schedule. Once I have that, we can figure out a routine that works.”
“I don’t have any other clients at the moment, Mister—Michael, so I can definitely work with you on my hours. I am a certified nursing assistant, so I am qualified to care for your father’s medical needs, as well as bathing, home exercises, and being a general companion while you’re away.”
“If you’re a CNA, why don’t you work at the hospital?”
Michael seemed more curious than suspicious, and it was a common question, so Josiah didn’t take any offense. He quite liked the firm yet quiet tenor of Michael’s voice. The older man was very pleasant to talk to. “I tried but I prefer having a more personal connection with my patients that you don’t always get in a hospital setting. Working directly with clients and their families helps me get to know them and their intimate needs.”
It makes me feel like I’m part of a family for a little while.
“That makes sense,” Michael replied. “I was never great at making connections with clients, but Kenny excelled at it. Probably why we were such great business partners.” His calm smile faded briefly.
Josiah surprised himself when his curiosity won out over self-preservation and he blurted, “What business are you in? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Technology. Got in at just the right time with smartphone apps, and I got out a bit sooner than I planned, but such is life.” An odd kind of grief shadowed Michael’s eyes, suggesting this was not a pretty portion of Memory Lane to tread down.
“I’m impressed by folks who work in tech. I can barely operate the calendar app on my phone some days.”
Michael’s expression went distant. “At least you make a difference with people’s lives.” He looked so young for a moment, so vulnerable that Josiah wanted to do something to comfort him, but they weren’t friends. Michael was a client and this was a business relationship.
Time to bring the conversation back to business.
Josiah picked up a notepad and pen. “Now, does your father have health insurance, or will you be handling his care through a hospice service?”
