We traveled toward San Fernando. She finally moved toward an off-ramp. It was a nice part of the valley, a commercial area with banks and medical buildings. I stayed several cars behind and nearly missed seeing her turn into a parking lot. The sign out front was for an assisted living home. It was four small buildings that looked like cozy houses, and there was a park-like stretch of lawn around it.
I went past the facility and circled back. I parked in the bank lot across the street. Stupidly, I listed the possible reasons for her to visit an assisted living facility. A handsome doctor or nurse or possibly a maintenance man who was about to take his lunch but was waiting for his extremely hot girlfriend to arrive to eat with him.
As I brainstormed myself into a jealous stupor, a flicker of movement across the street pulled my attention to the lush grounds outside of the building. I had my answer. It seemed I was an even bigger asshole than I'd given myself credit for.
Shay pushed a woman in a wheelchair outside toward a large shade tree. The woman was hunched over, and her body flopped around some as the wheels of the chair rolled onto the grass. She could have been a hundred, or she could have been sixty. It seemed her life had been drained away by some major event like a stroke or an accident. Shay had mentioned her grandmother, the woman who never wanted her but took her in anyhow, was still alive. But she'd never said more than that except it was obvious she disliked her grandmother immensely. And yet, it seemed she was living in a car to make sure her invalid grandmother had a nice place to live and be cared for.
I started up the motorcycle. And in conclusion, I thought wryly, I'm a suspicious, obsessive jerk, and the pedestal I'd been building in my head for Shay wasn't nearly high enough.
26
Somehow a business meeting before my dad's funeral seemed entirely appropriate. He would have liked it. I'd been struggling with the proposal for the scientists with the lightweight metal, wanting to make sure I went in with exactly what they wanted. Then I decided to take a different route. I went in with very little in the way of numbers. I brought them a list of the ways I could help them get their product into production and into the marketplace. I let them tell me the numbers that worked for them. They were thrilled to have the money ball in their court, and in the end, their suggestion was more than reasonable. We were both fledgling companies, after all.
I walked inside my house. The scent of soap drifted down the hallway. I followed it and the sound of Shay humming to the master bath. I knocked lightly and then pushed open the door.
Shay's shoulders and breasts were dotted with mounds of bubbles as she looked up from the soak tub. She lifted a fluffy bunch of bubbles on her palm. "I think I put in just a touch too much bubble bath."
I sat on the edge of the tub. "You're right. This is too many bubbles." I swept my hand through the warm water, temporarily clearing the surface and giving me a clear view of her naked body. "That's better."
She leaned back and rested her arms on the edge of the tub, lifting her breasts for me to see. "How did the meeting go?"
I nodded. "Great. I think they'll be my first client."
"So your new approach worked?"
"It did." I'd found myself talking to Shay about every aspect of my life, things I never would have talked to other people about, but it seemed natural. And I liked it. I liked talking to her. I liked having her there to hear my thoughts. Just as much as I enjoyed hearing hers. I never confessed to her that I followed her the day she went to visit her grandmother. It would only upset her. It would prove to her that I was a controlling idiot, something I was going to work hard to change.
She shifted in the tub, looking around for her towel. "You should probably get ready for the funeral. I'll clear out of your bathroom."
"There's time and frankly, this is nice, watching you bathe." I picked up the sponge floating in the tub and filled it with water. I drained it over her shoulder and watched the warm, soapy water cascade over her skin.
"You know, I was thinking—" She relaxed back and let the warm water pour over her. "I can come with you to the funeral."
I looked at her.
"You know, in case you need a friend. Never mind. I know you don't need me to go. I just wanted you to know that if you needed me—"
"Yes," I said far too quickly. "I mean yes, I'd like you to go. If you don't mind. It will be very small. It's what my dad wanted."
Whenever she smiled, even faintly, a small line creased the side of her mouth. I'd grown used to seeing it.
"Do you think that woman"—she shook her head—"Your mom will be there?"