Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Gloria, playing the outfielder position, has severe arthritis, so her play happens in slow motion. Of course, Sam’s trip to first base isn’t all that fast, either, but he’s a lot quicker than Glo. Sam makes it to first and Lyndon pulls back on the gait belt to stop him. Everyone erupts into cheers and I squeeze my hands together beneath my chin to keep myself from joining in.
Gloria is still trying to run to first base, and just before she makes it, she drops to the floor on her hands and knees.
“My back!” she cries. “It’s my goddamn back, Lyndon!”
I race over from the doorway and drop down beside her.
“Glo, it’s Kylie. Try not to move, okay?”
She balks. “I couldn’t move if I wanted to, kid!”
I look up at Lyndon. “Game’s over. Get Sam to a chair and go get Lydia and Andre.”
“Aw, she’s fine. Just put some ice on it,” he protests. “Sam needs to get into scoring position.”
I look up and meet his surly gaze. “Lyndon, please just do what I asked.”
“Killjoy,” he mutters, helping Sam over to a chair.
Lyndon is eighty-eight years old and I swear he’s going to outlive us all. He has cancer, but he tells me often that he’s not dying—he’s living. He’s hands down my favorite patient here. He’s also the one who gives me the most grief.
Truth be told, Lyndon is a big part of the reason I became a CNA. My husband Eric was a patient at The Canyons for the last four months of his life. My brother Pike, a pro hockey player, paid all the costs of having Eric moved from the facility he was at in Kansas City when he helped our mom, my daughter Jasmine, and I relocate to Las Vegas to be closer to him. He called in favors from wealthy friends to bring the best doctors in the world here to determine if there was any hope at all for Eric to recover from the traumatic brain injury that he sustained in combat at age twenty-four that had left him in a coma for six years.
My brother did that for me, even though countless doctors told me over the years that there was no hope. I’ll never be able to repay him for it. Every day of the past three months without Eric has been hard, but it’s like my mom said—having him lying there in a coma year after year, his mind dead and his body wasting away, was hard, too. Choose your hard.
Lyndon became my friend in the months that Eric was on life support at The Canyons. For all his antics and mouthiness, when it counts, Lyndon is a good soul.
“What in the…?” Lydia blasts into the common room turned baseball field and gives me an accusing look.
“Gloria hurt her back,” I say.
Lydia pockets her stethoscope and walks over, all business. “Where’s Andre?”
“I don’t know.”
I’m not throwing my coworker under the bus, even though he deserves it. Andre is only here for the paycheck, and he’s a slacker. His one redeeming quality is that he’s strong, which helps a lot with lifting and moving patients.
Lydia asks Glo a bunch of questions, then leaves to get her an anti-inflammatory medicine. When she returns, Andre is right behind her.
“Kylie, please return to your assigned area,” she says brusquely. “Thank you for stepping in.”
From behind her, Lyndon gives me an overly dramatic, admonishing look, his brows arched, lips twitching while he tries not to grin.
“She sure did,” he tells Lydia. “Saw us playing baseball and stopped it on the spot.”
I shake my head and get up, saying, “Hang in there, Gloria. I’ll make sure they save some sweet tea for you for dinner.”
The woman needs an IV drip of sweet tea, really. It’s her favorite, even though it keeps her up too late. She may or may not have a contraband sweet tea stash in her room provided by one of her grandsons.
“How’s my girl?” Lyndon asks, falling into step beside me.
“Tired,” I admit.
“Stayed up too late watching that show again, didn’t you?”
I grin at him. “Busted. Jasmine loves it, too. I love that she’s finally old enough to like the same shows I do. Before we just watched Pixar movies seventy-four times in a row.”
“You found a boyfriend yet?” he asks me.
Lyndon has been on me for the past month or so to go on a date. Just a date, to remind myself what it’s like. I don’t want to, though, for many reasons. When I’m not working, I want to be with my daughter. Mostly, though, I’m not ready. I vowed to love Eric until we were both old and gray. I wasn’t supposed to be a thirty-one-year-old widow.
“You’re my boyfriend, Lyndon,” I say, winking.
“Ha! I’d give it a go if the equipment still worked.”