Hot Cop

My mom walked in then, tossing her shiny, newly darkened hair in its neat bob.

“You look fabulous!” I said, hugging her.

“See, she’s nice to her mother. Saves the backtalk for me,” Dad said.

“Well?” Mom posed, showing off her haircut.

“Have you got a tan?” Dad asked.

“Laura was a sneak. She called ahead and paid for the works. I had my hair done, my nails done, and a spray tan. I feel like I’ve been to Jamaica!” she said. I grinned. It was money well spent. My mom deserved a little spoiling.

“You look beautiful as always,” Dad said. “But don’t you go running off to Jamaica with some guy that has two working kidneys.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” my mom said, kissing his cheek, “Never.”

“It’s grim humor. I enjoy it,” he said.

“Dark humor,” my brother corrected.

“Oh, go to work, you’re as bad as your sister,” he said with a wheezy chuckle. I was worried about him, but it did us all good to hear him talking shit and full of spunk. When he really felt bad he was cooperative. It was scary as hell, and none of us ever wanted to see him like that again.

I followed her to go hang her coat up, “I called Hester at the hospital auxiliary. She’s getting me a list of names, people who help out with home health care.”

“Your dad—”

“Is going to have to deal with it.”

“But I—”

“Need my help? I know. Look, I’m the bossy one. And you always encouraged me to do what I knew was right. So here we are. I’m being bossy, and I know what’s best here. Between you and me and the cleaning lady and the health aide, we can do this and keep our sanity. I also checked at the library and book club is still during Wednesday afternoons.”

“But your dad has dialysis Wednesday mornings and—”

“And so we’ll make sure someone is here on Wednesday afternoons in case he needs something. You look great, but you’re run down. I know it, Mom,” I said.

“I want to go back to the gym,” she admitted. “I used to go to the seniors’ aerobics class. I’ve gained thirty-eight pounds since your dad went into kidney failure. He lost weight and I found it,” she said ruefully. I nodded.

“Then figure out when you need to be there, and I’ll make sure we build that into the schedule for the people who’ll be helping us out.”

“I’m not sure about this. Your dad won’t like it.”

“Dad also doesn’t want you running yourself ragged trying to meet everyone’s needs but your own. I’m here, and I’m a fixer. Let me help you both.”

“He sure has perked up with you around. He’s talking shit nonstop. He loves to try and get your goat, always has,” her smile was teary.

“You know how we are. It’s all affectionate. We tease each other. I compared him to a baby. He said he missed it before I learned to talk.”

My mom looked shocked.

“Your face is gonna freeze like that. You have to get used to us again. I’ve been gone a long time.”

“But, honey, Rockford Falls never changes. That’s the great thing about it.”

“No, being close to my family is the great thing about it. I was happy in Charleston. But I think it took coming back home to realize how bad I really missed you all. Even Damon. But don’t tell him I said so.”

“I won’t say a word,” she promised with a sparkle in her eye.

“I may head down to the station tomorrow and see about getting an interview here in Rockford Falls,” I said tentatively.

“Are you kidding me?” she asked. I shook my head, a grin forming on my face. “Because there is nothing that would make me happier than knowing you were staying. Putting down roots.”

“If the next word out of your mouth is grandchildren, Mom, I swear I’m putting hot sauce on your tongue,” I said.

“Okay, okay,” she said. “But you know I want a baby to love on.”

“Get a cat.”

“Cats don’t like to be held. Also they shed.”

“Well, I’m a cop. I just moved home to help with dad. The odds of me hooking up with my future life partner—”

“Why can’t you just say husband? Why?”

“Because it pisses you off,” I said. “But the odds are not in my favor at this point. I’m thirty. In small-town years, that’s like seventy-five. I’m an old maid and a police officer so people probably think I’m a lesbian.”

“It’s not the cop thing. It’s your hair. Fix it once in a while.”

“I have lesbian hair? Is that even a thing?”

“I have a Pinterest board of hairstyles for you. There are even TikToks on how to fix the hair you have now.”

“You have a Pinterest board devoted to my potential hair?” I said, making a face.

“Yes. I’ve been cooped up with your father for months. I had to do something besides eat Pringles and fold laundry.”