“There’s a church three blocks over that’ll take you in for the night,” I tell her. I know this because I stayed there before years ago, back when it was me, Heather and Jason against the world. “They’ll have clothes for her too.”
The woman takes the twenty from me, bottom lip quivering. “Thank you. My boyfriend…he got arrested and we’ve had nowhere to go.” She starts to get to her feet, struggling to keep her child nestled against her body and pick up her shit at the same time.
“Want some help?”
The woman eyes me suspiciously, and if you’re going off my looks, I can’t blame her. Two-bit whores aren’t known for their generosity.
“I’ve been in your shoes,” I offer.
“You have kids?” The woman gets to her feet and grabs a duffle bag full of baby clothes. She only has a backpack full of stuff for herself.
“Not my own, but I looked after my siblings for a few years.” I take the duffle from her and lead the way down the street. We walk in silence, and when we get in front of the church, the woman tells me a tearful and heartfelt thank you.
I hike back to the nursing home, sweating by the time I get there. Dammit. This dress is dry clean only. The smell of body odor, urine, and bleach hang heavy in the air, mixed together like some sort of stomach-churning perfume. I turn down the hall and head in the direction of my father’s room. I slow, seeing the curtain pulled around his bed.
The nursing assistant behind the curtain hums “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart,” and I hear him plunge a washcloth into a basin of water.
“Hey, Corbin,” I say, knowing who he is without having to look.
His shoes squeak on the tile as he steps over to peer at me. “You pulling tricks again, hooka?”
“Magic tricks,” I say, snapping my fingers. “And for my next act, watch that new wheelchair appear tomorrow.”
“You didn’t.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I did.”
He waggles a finger at me. “Girl, you are something else.”
“How’s he doing today?”
“We’ve had some good moments today, haven’t we, Mr. Cooper?”
I perch on the edge of the other bed in the room, not wanting to go behind the curtain. My father’s been in this shithole of a nursing home for the last several years, thanks to heavy drinking in his youth, a brain injury acquired during a bar fight, and most of all, early-onset Alzheimer’s.
“Good.”
“I’m going to take him down to Bingo after I get him cleaned up. He got a little messy during lunch.”
“How’d that happen?”
“New CNA. Let him alone with a bowl of soup.”
I let out a sigh. You can’t leave food out around Dad. He’ll try to feed himself and will end up spilling it everywhere. I pull my phone out of my purse, checking the time. I’m going to have to cut my visit with Dad short today if I want to make it over in time to see Heather, which I need to do. It’s been a few days and I have to make sure she’s staying out of trouble.
Once Dad is up and dressed, I wheel him down into the cafeteria and sit him at a table along with a few other residents. I stay through one round of Bingo and then give him a kiss on the forehead and rush out, getting to the prison with only minutes left of visiting hours.
I’ve gone through the process of signing in and going through security so many times I could do it in my sleep.
“Hey, Scarlet,” C.O. Benson says as I pass through the metal detector. “Looking good.”
I flash him a smile and bat my eyelashes, just enough to keep him hanging on. “You too. Have you been working out?”
“I have,” he replies with a wide smile. “Starting some new supplements.”
“Keep it up. I can tell.” I grab my purse, holding the smile on my face until I turn away. He’s not a total loser but isn’t my type. And by that, I mean, I’m not into guys who live in their parents’ basement and find taxidermy a fun way to pass the time. But I know how helpful it can be to have that flirty relationship with someone in his position, and I never know when I’ll have to ask for a favor.
For my sister, that is.
I get seated in the visitor area and lean back while I wait. My mind starts to wander, and I quickly reel that fucker in. Don’t think. Don’t feel.
“Scar!”
I look up and see my sister quickly walking over.
“Jesus Christ, Heather.” My eyes widen, and I shake my head. “What the fuck did you do to your hair?”
She flops into the chair with a huff. “I knew you’d hate it.”
Reaching over, I run my fingers through the rough cut. A natural blonde like me, Heather has butchered her long locks into a terrible above-the-shoulders bob with streaks of black and red throughout.