Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 2
Tempe
I push the front door open, the familiar creak more comforting than annoying tonight. It’s been a long day at the store, longer than usual, and all I want is to check on Mom and maybe collapse on the couch for a few minutes before dealing with dinner.
“I’m home,” I call out, dropping my keys in the small bowl on the hall table and kicking off my shoes. There’s no response, but that’s not unusual these days. Ever since the accident, Mom’s been quieter, more reflective.
I find her in her room—a small addition made to the house back in the days when I had a father—propped up with a mountain of pillows, a knitted blanket pulled up to her waist and a book resting unopened on her lap. Her eyes, though tired, light up when she sees me. “Tempe, darling, how was work?”
I don’t answer her right away, instead giving her a critical once-over, as is my usual habit. Her fragile frame seems swamped in the queen-size bed. The cast on her leg and the braces around her wrists are stark reminders of the accident—a rainy night collision at an intersection, where a distracted driver ran a red light and crashed into her side. Her hospitalization was lengthy and fraught with multiple surgeries—to realign her leg, stabilize her vertebrae, and repair the wrists shattered against the steering wheel.
Now back home, her recovery has been slow, each day a small step toward regaining the independence she values so deeply. The house feels different with her spending so much time in bed rather than flitting about with boundless energy. Now she lives within a constant, quiet battle to heal, watched over by me and my little brother.
The pleasant smile on her face convinces me she’s not in a lot of pain and I move her wheelchair so I can come to the side of the bed.
“Eventful,” I reply, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. Her skin is warm, and I linger a second longer, just to assure myself she’s okay. “How are you feeling? Did Judith come by today?”
My mom nods, shifting slightly to ease her position. “Yes, she was here. Helped with… you know, the things I can’t quite manage yet.” I can hear her frustration, a reminder of her fiercely independent nature that doesn’t take well to being sidelined. “I hate not being able to do for myself.”
Judith is a CNA from a home health service who comes three times a week to help Mom with bathing and hygiene needs when I’m not here. Mom was discharged from the rehab hospital four days ago, so we’re still trying to figure things out. We only have Judith’s services for another two weeks and after that, I’m not sure what we’ll do.
I stroke her forearm gently, just above her brace. “You’re getting stronger every day. I can see it and I know you can feel it. And hey, Cooper managed to not burn the house down today, so I’d call that a major win.”
Her laugh is light and brings a smile to my face. “He cooked up his famous mac and cheese for dinner. There’s some for you in the fridge.”
“Straight from the box.” I grimace, but I’m grateful my thirteen-year-old brother is helping as best he can as we try to take care of Mom while she heals. “I’m going to check on him. Be right back.”
Our home is a compact, two-story American Foursquare style that has an additional two bedrooms with a shared bathroom up a steep set of stairs. It’s not changed much, other than the man who got my mom pregnant divorcing her and leaving when Cooper was three and I was eleven, and never coming back. My bedroom had been turned into a small craft room when I went off to college at William and Mary, but now I’ve moved back in to care for my mom and am making do with the small futon in there.
I head up the stairs to Cooper’s room where I find him sprawled across his bed, textbooks and papers around him, a pencil stuck behind one ear. “Need any help with that homework?”
He shakes his head, a grin spreading across his face. “Nah, I’ve got it. But thanks, Tempe. I made dinner and left you some.”
This will be the third day in a row I’ve eaten boxed mac and cheese for dinner, but he gets my most brilliant smile. “You are awesome. Thank you so much for taking on that duty. I couldn’t do this without you.”
Coop’s eyes, green like mine, sparkle from the praise. “Got your back, sis.”
“I know you do. I’m going to hang with Mom for a bit, but want to play some backgammon later?”
“Sure,” he says, indulging me in something I like to do and am quite good at, although he’s getting better.