Nothing Feels Better (Better Love 3)

I suppose it’s my own fault for not speaking up. For just going along with everyone else’s choices. For being a chameleon and confusing Patrick’s likes as my own. It hits me like a ton of bricks as I pull into the elementary school parking lot—another part of myself I didn’t know I’d lost.

I drop June off with a few words of encouragement. I remind her that she’s brilliant and strong and that I love her. She just rolls her eyes with a mumbled love you too and walks into the school. When we get to Jude’s preschool, I attack him with kisses and hugs, and fight off the nagging reality that, someday soon, he’ll be too cool for this kind of sendoff. I steal two more kisses and one more long hug before I leave.

I climb back into the car, and before pulling back onto the road, I take out my phone. I open my music streaming app, find a random “popular music” radio and push play. I might not know what kind of music I like, but now is as good a time as any to find out.

I add it to the list of things I didn’t know were missing.

The list of things I would like to rediscover.

“You look like shit,”Meryl greets me as I scan my badge.

“Thanks, Meryl.” She’s always so blunt.

“You just came back from two days off, but you look like you just got off a twelve-hour shift.” I can feel her surveying me, assessing my weaknesses, and I do my best not to look at her. “Honey, when is the last time you slept?”

“Four years ago, right after I had Jude,” I say with a tired laugh, only half joking. I don’t tell her it was because I was passed out from blood loss. “No rest for with wicked, right, Meryl?”

“There isn’t a single wicked thing about you.” She gives me a sympathetic smile before continuing, and I shove my bag in my locker. “Mr. Murphy in 402 coded two nights ago, so his room is empty.”

I’m not surprised about that, but my heart still aches at the news. Mr. Murphy had been with us for a while in the assisted-living facility, but his family recently put him in hospice care. He was a kind and gentle man, and I’ll miss seeing his smiling face.

“And you’ve got a new resident on your hall in the rehab wing,” Meryl says, breaking into my thoughts.

“Oh?” I’m getting my things in order as she fills me in on what I missed. The inpatient rehabilitation wing is a revolving door of residents coming and going. Sometimes they’re here for months, sometimes for weeks, but there are always new faces.

“She’ll probably be around six weeks. Recovering from surgery to repair a hip fracture. She was over at Indianapolis General for a week and a half before coming here. Real spitfire.”

I open a five-hour energy shot, drink it in two gulps, then meet Meryl’s eyes with a smile.

“The spitfires are my favorite.”

“I know they are,” she says with a laugh.

I knock lightlyon the open door of room 108. I can hear the TV playing Family Feud somewhere in the small, studio apartment-type room.

“Come on in,” a voice calls, and I walk in to find a small, red-haired lady in a black, silk night gown, sitting upright on the bed.

“Hi, Mrs. Gunther.” I smile brightly. “I’m Jocelyn. Welcome to Harvest View.”

“Jocelyn is a gorgeous name,” she says, then quickly narrows her eyes at me, “but Mrs. Gunther was my third mother-in-law, and she was an insufferable bitch. You can call me Roxanne.”

I hold back my laugh. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Roxanne.”

“I suppose you’re here to dress me and feed me like an infant?” She scowls.

“I’m here to assist you if you need it, yes.”

“Well, I don’t need it,” she states matter-of-factly. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told the man from yesterday and the day before that: I am perfectly capable of dressing myself, feeding myself, and I sure as hell can wipe my own ass. The only reason I’m here is because they had to jam pins in my hip, and my doctor wouldn’t let me go home after surgery.”

I nod, understanding completely. It’s a dignity thing. An independence thing. I see it all the time with the rehab residents, and I get it.

“I hear you loud and clear, Roxanne. I’m here if you need help, but I won’t force it.”

“Thank God.” She heaves a dramatic sigh of relief, then turns a charming smile on me. “But you can help me up.”

I chuckle and walk to the bed, maneuvering her walker so that when she’s standing, she can use it immediately. I pull her covers back and help her to her feet.

“Tell me about yourself, Jocelyn. You’re young and beautiful. I’ll relive my youth through you.”

“Oh,” I laugh, “you might want to choose someone else.” I lean on the wall and look out the window as she moves her walker to the dresser and digs through her drawers. She might not want to be here, but she’s wasted no time making herself at home.

“Nonsense,” she huffs, tossing clothes on the bed, “I remember being your age. Time of my life, some of those memories.”

I shrug. There’s nothing exciting about my life, but I don’t want to disappoint her so soon after meeting her, so I tell her about the only good thing I’ve done.

“I have two kids. June and Jude. They’re eight and four.” I smile. “They’re brilliant, actually. Jude has the biggest imagination, and he’s absolutely fearless. He’s really into pirates right now. And June. She’s so smart. She doesn’t miss a thing. So quick-witted too. She’s always reading.”

I avert my eyes, in an effort to give her some privacy, as Roxanne gets dressed, though she doesn’t seem to care at all that I’m here. I can’t go far in case she struggles, but she gets her...flowy pleather pants?...on without incident. The physical therapist at the hospital probably made sure she could dress herself before they discharged her to our facility.

“Oh!” I add. “And June is part of BTS Army.”

“Oh, honey, me too,” Roxanne says as she does up the last button on her leopard print blouse. Pleather pants and a silk, leopard print blouse. The woman has more character in her pinky toe than I have in my whole body. “Those boys are delicious. That Jungkook has a jawbone that could slice through glass. The jaw alone converted me to a K-pop Stan.”

I can’t contain my laugh, and she smiles when she sees my wide, amused eyes.

“What? I’m old. I’m not dead.” She pushes her walker to the window and lowers herself onto the chair in the corner. “Your children sound lovely.”

“Thank you,” I say honestly. “They are.”

“And their father?” she asks, innocently enough, but I wince slightly anyway.

“He’s around.” Roxanne takes the hint and moves on.

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”