Mending, Adjusting, and Death by Bunny

EMERALD

Lance, with a sheepish look on his face, held up a bunch of green tissue paper roses glued to popsicle sticks.

“I’m sorry for being a dick, Em,” he said. “And I don’t like that guy, but you do, so I’ll…~try~ to let it go.”

“You could have waited until I got in the door.” I giggled, and his mouth fell open. “What?”

“You haven’t laughed like that since before Dad got sick.” He shook his head and moved out of the door so I could come in. “He must make you really happy, Em.”

“He does his best and that’s all I ask for.” I smiled, feeling warm and fuzzy in my chest. “So, how’s Mom today?”

“I’ve noticed the mornings are harder.” He handed me the roses and closed the door.

“And you were right about those homes. Absolute garbage. Some of the staff were good, but the rest… It’s like they didn’t really care that much. Are you sure it’s a good idea to let him pay for this?”

“My pride says no, but I trust him, Lance. This has been a topic of many long conversations.” I nodded, finding that it was shockingly true. I did trust Tate.

Last night when he came home and pretty much demanded a hug, it felt like a little part of the swirling mess in my head shifted, settled, and stuck itself in place.

Suddenly, the future didn’t seem so scary. It was, obviously, but maybe there was something else, too.

I wouldn’t call it a stable feeling, but it was a hell of a lot sturdier than the present, so things were looking up.

“At least he’s still paying you, right?” He made a face, and I flinched. “Emerald Rose Wells, what did you do?”

“Um… You see, what happened was—”

“Don’t you pull that shit with me.” He pointed at me. “It has never worked, and it never will. What. Happened?”

“There’s a little, teeny thing in the employee handbook that says relationships between an employee and direct subordinates is grounds for dismissal of both parties, so I kind of…quit?” I grinned painfully.

“You did ~what~?” he hissed. “How are you supporting yourself?”

“Right now? I’m not.” I pursed my lips. “But I’m looking at a few jobs that sound pretty great, actually, and I’m qualified for them, which is a bonus.”

“I’m trying really hard right now, Em, but you letting him completely support your whole life so soon is insane,” he ground out.

“We’re getting married, Lance. And it’s not like I plan on turning into Suzy Homemaker just because he has a bank account.” I rolled my eyes.

“I’m getting another job. It’s just kind of nice that I can choose what I do because of the job and not how much it pays.”

He huffed out a long sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay. You’re right. You’ve been working for the pay for long enough,” he said. “I just don’t want you to give up your independence because he doesn’t want you working.”

“He’s actually the one that suggested these new jobs for me.” I grinned proudly.

“I’m not sure what to think about this, Em. I’m sorry, I’m trying, but I just feel like this is too much, too fast.” He shook his head.

“You know how Dad always said that you just know when something is right?” I asked him, and he gave me a dead look. “Yeah, it’s fast, but that doesn’t mean it’s not right.”

“Be careful, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt.” He sighed again.

“If I do, I’ll deal with it. I’m not a little girl that needs her big brother to come to her rescue when she gets her pigtails pulled at school.” I opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.

“Pretty sure I was the only one that pulled your pigtails.” He gave me a look.

“And you still haven’t kicked your ass for it. Makes me wonder how much you actually care,” I teased him.

“I thought I heard my kids in here.” Mom smiled as she came into the kitchen. “It’s so nice having you both here before going off to start your lives. Your father will be back with doughnuts soon.”

My smile dropped, and Lance shook his head, stopping me from correcting her. This wasn’t the first time she’d completely forgotten the present, but she had sounded so sure and convinced this time. Not confused.

She really was getting worse.

***

“Bloomfield looked good, right?” I asked Lance, flipping through the information brochure in the car.

“I liked it, and it sounded like a great place. The visiting hours are pretty fantastic, too.” He nodded, driving through the city.

“It’s all newly built, too, so there’s not much to worry about as far as things breaking or not working.”

“I like that Barbara can still check on her for the first month, too,” I said. “Makes this a lot easier to accept.”

“What about Shady Grove?” he asked, and I switched the brochures.

“Aside from it sounding like a cemetery?” I asked, making him snort. “They’re both good fits, I think. About the same price, too, but Bloomfield has a lot more activities specifically for Alzheimer’s residents.”

“Shorter visiting hours,” he added. “It’s been remodeled recently and doesn’t look like it’s been poorly kept, so it’s not going to be falling apart around her.”

“They have a huge garden area that’s fenced, so she can wander to her heart’s content.” I held up the brochure. “I’m not a huge fan of the trackers, though. They look like ankle monitors.

“I prefer the perimeter alert tags at Bloomfield. A little bracelet thingy that sends an alert if she somehow wanders off.”

“Much less annoying, for one, and she already wears a charm bracelet, so it’s not like she’s going to not wear it,” Lance said. “I hate that kind of thing is a requirement at both, but I can see the sense of it.”

“I don’t know. I think I’m leaning for Bloomfield.” I bit my lip. “The other residents seemed to really like the staff there more than at Shady Grove.”

“I agree. I think Bloomfield will be best.” He nodded.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” I asked after a moment of silence. “I made the apartment look as much like home as I could, but the rooms at a facility are different.”

“You heard what the doctors said. There’s always an adjustment period, which is why it’s good we’re doing this now instead of trying to deny the progression and wait.” Lance patted my knee.

“You’re right. Once everyone gets used to the changes, it’ll be fine. Right?”

“Right.” He smiled as he drove. “You’ve always been the worrier of the family, Em. It’s going to be fine.”

“What about you? Where are you going to stay?”

“A buddy of mine has a roommate that’s cool with me crashing there while he’s on some trip.” He shrugged.

“Please, don’t offer me a place to stay with you and your perfect lover boy. I don’t want to be a witness to your love fest. My sanity can only take so much, you know.”

“I wasn’t going to because I really don’t want your Debby Downer attitude anywhere near my ‘love fest.’” I laughed.

“I never said Tate was perfect, either, but he’s a great man, Lance. A bit prickly and hard to get close to at first, but he’s one of the good ones.

“I should know. I’ve had two of the best men I know around me for most of my life, so I kind of recognize the qualities.”

“I don’t see how he could be anything like Dad.” He shook his head.

“He looks completely different to how he actually is,” I pointed out with a smile. “And he’s good at keeping those soft parts hidden to be super scary when he needs to be.”

“Dad was never that scary.”

“He was when he met Will Baker.” I shuddered at the memory of introducing my first boyfriend to my family.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Lance looked at me for a second before turning back to the road. “You’re not just with him because he’s being nice to you? Not that I think you’re the type to do that, but I have to ask.”

“I really do like him, Lance. Don’t tell him I said this, but he’s really a sweet man in his own way,” I answered. “He’s never really done this before.”

“Marry my sister? I sure as shit hope not.” He snorted.

“Been in a relationship,” I corrected. “Not one that means something. That’s why you haven’t really seen anything about us being engaged. We aren’t, technically, but he’s made it clear that’s what he wants.”

“Is it what you want?” he asked.

“I think so.” I laughed. “I’m still figuring that out, to be honest. I’m not against it, but right now it’s a bit…overwhelming to think about. There’s still so much we don’t know about each other.”

“And that’s the part that worries me, Em,” he said.

“Maybe it’s better to stop thinking of us getting married and start thinking of us dating.” I laughed. “Like I said, we aren’t technically engaged.”

After last night, though, I was beginning to feel like maybe it really was what I wanted and not just as a means to an end. Longer than two years, hopefully for the rest of our lives, kind of want.

“If he makes you happy, Em, then I’m happy for you. You deserve it, and it really looks like he’s treating you right.

“I saw the pictures of your shopping trip, by the way.” He gave me a sly smirk. “You looked like you wanted to smack him.”

“I kind of did, actually.” I laughed.

“I also saw the way he was looking at you in those pictures.” He sighed.

“What way is that?” I asked, tilting my head a little.

“Like you’re his sun, his moon, and all his stars,” he said, quoting Dad when he talked about Mom.

My eyes stung, and I looked out the window, falling back to my new coping mechanism: avoidance.

I still hadn’t even tried to deal with the whole “what the fuck” of Tate and I having not-sex yet. I don’t think I was going to, either. It felt good and it seemed right at the time.

I did have a habit of overthinking things, just like Vince had said when he dragged my ass over there in the middle of the night, so I was going to leave it alone.

Still, Lance’s words hit me like a knife in the chest. Those big emotions were best left unnamed and not looked at right now. No more overthinking. I was just going to let this happen; however it happened from now on.

***

“Have you thought about trying college again?” Tate asked me while we did the dishes after dinner that night.

“Not really,” I said slowly as I ran it over in my head. “Maybe not for what I had wanted to do before, but…I don’t know. I guess?”

“There are a lot of online programs you could apply for if you wanted to,” he said. “Or you could take classes at one of the more local campuses.”

“I’ve always told myself I wanted to attempt it again, but now that you bring it up, I really don’t know what I want to apply for.” I shook my head.

“You said you had to give it up, so I figured you’d maybe want to, now that you could.” He shrugged.

“I guess I haven’t really thought about all the things I ~can~ do now.” I smiled at him. “It’s still so new, you know? I’ll have to think about it.”

“Whatever you want to do.” He gave me a hesitant smile.

“College is a lot to think about, but I have thought about what you said about the charities your grandmother runs,” I said, drying off my hands on the towel before handing it to Tate.

“The more I think about it, the more I kind of like the idea. I’ve always wanted what I did to mean something somehow.”

“That’s great.” He grinned. “I’m glad I finally said something right. I was beginning to think I should shut up so I didn’t fuck up again.”

“You say a lot right, Tate. We’re still figuring out how to talk to each other, so there’s going to be bumps. We’ll work it out with practice.” I hugged him.

“We’re going to be fine, right?” he asked, hugging me back. “I’m not being overly optimistic?”

“I think we’re getting somewhere.” I nodded. “And I think it’s safe to be optimistic.”

“So, if I asked you about those paper roses, would you get mad?”

“No.” I laughed. “Lance started it when I was little.

“He had been a jerk and we were too young to have things like money or a way to get to a flower shop, so he spent all night making a bunch of green roses from construction paper.”

“Why green?” he asked, looking at the vase I had stuck the paper flowers in when I got home.

“My name. Emerald Rose,” I answered. “I used to get a green rose each from Mom, Dad, and Lance for my birthday and then Macy started doing it, too.

“It’s kind of gotten lost in the whole ‘life gets in the way’ thing, but it made fifteen-year-old me feel pretty damn special.”

“That’s coming up soon, right?” He squinted like he was trying to remember.

“Tomorrow.” I nodded.

“What?”

“My birthday? It’s tomorrow,” I answered.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He looked half mad, half scared.

“I haven’t done anything for my birthday in years, Tate. It’s not a big deal anymore.” I shrugged.

“Remember the part about you not really thinking about the things you ~can~ do now? This is one of those things,” he said with finality. “I’m taking you out for your birthday.”

“You don’t have to,” I said as he walked to the living room.

“I’m going to anyhow. Besides, I haven’t really taken you on a date yet.

“I like having you to myself, but I also kind of want to show you off and make every guy jealous that I’m a luckier bastard than they are with you on my arm,” he said, looking at the movies on his shelf.

“Fuck. You ~live~ with me. It’s like I won the fucking jackpot or something.”

“And I cook.” I crossed my arms proudly. “That makes it even better for you.”

Tate laughed and picked something for us to watch. It was kind of a routine in the making.

He came home and demanded a hug; we ate dinner and cleaned up before getting comfortable on the couch for a movie or two before going to his room for the night because being alone in mine still freaked me out.

It was like we were dating from the comfort of our home.

~Our home~. Tate’s penthouse still had that clinical feeling to it, but it really was starting to feel comfortable. Cold and impersonal, but the place where I wanted to be at the end of the day.

“So, I have a feeling I already know the answer, but why don’t you have any pictures or things like that around here?” I asked, pulling the blanket from the back of the couch and tossing it over my legs.

“My family doesn’t like each other enough to have photos in our home,” he answered. “I have one of my grandparents in my office down the hall from you.

“Vince insisted I have a copy of the one he took of us when we graduated from high school, but that’s it. There’s not a lot that involves my family that I want to be reminded of on a daily basis.”

“That kind of sucks. I wish I had some of the ones from before the fire,” I said as he sat down and moved closer, claiming his arm. The one that I had dubbed my movie night arm. “Mostly the ones with my dad in them.”

“You must really miss him.” Tate leaned over and kissed my temple. “I’m sorry you lost so much so quickly, baby.”

“I still have my memories, but everything going on with Mom has kind of put an unknown timer on those, too.” I sighed and settled into the nook between Tate and the couch.

“I forgot to ask how it went today,” he asked. “Did you find anything that looked good?”

“I think so. We’re waiting for the doctor to forward Mom’s medical records to make sure they have the right staff and care for her before her application is approved.

“It’ll take a few days, so we should hear something by Monday.”

“That’s great.” He squeezed my thigh. “How’s your mom doing?”

“Today was a bad day,” I said quietly. “Usually, when she has her slips, they confuse her because part of her still says something isn’t right with what’s going on in her head, but today it was like it got flipped.

“Reality is what confused her, and it scares me.”

He looked at me hard for a second before he took his arm from me and pulled me onto his lap and turned sideways.

What wasn’t surrounded by his arms and body had solid couch behind it. It made me feel…sheltered.

“I’m losing my mother, Tate. A lot faster than I thought,” I said, my voice shaking a little bit.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I wish I could make it better for you,” he mumbled to me and tucked my head under his chin against his chest.

“You already are,” I whispered. “Thank you. I just need a second.”

“Take whatever you need.”

***

I rolled over and grabbed the pillow next to me, curling around it and rubbing my face against the fabric.

It smelled a million times better than before. I needed to ask what detergent he used because I needed more of it in my life.

“Sexy smell,” I muttered and breathed deeply.

“Glad you approve, Shrimp,” the pillow said.

“Shh. Only Tate can call me that. Freaking tree person,” I mumbled and squeezed the pillow hard.

“Emerald. You’re choking me,” the pillow complained.

~Wait a second. Pillows don’t talk.~

I loosened my grip and opened my eyes. Tate. Tate was my pillow. And we weren’t on the couch.

Once again, we were in his bed, but unlike before, we were in the middle, not on our separate sides, and I was totally making him my personal teddy bear.

“So, if I’m a tree person, this makes you a tree-hugger, right?” He smirked.

“Maybe.” I pouted at him.

“You’re so damn cute when you pout. I just want to stick you in my pocket.” He laughed.

“Hey, now. I’m letting you have the shrimp thing, but I draw the line at being in a pocket.” I flicked his nose, and he laughed and curled around me, turning his body into a cage.

“Don’t be mad, my little pocket shrimp,” he chuckled.

“I will bite you,” I warned him.

“Promise?” he chuckled and kissed me deeply. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Good morning!”

“What the fuck!” I shrieked, and Tate clenched his body tighter around me and flipped the covers up, even though we were both still in pajamas.

“Goddammit! Devon!” Tate bellowed and started grabbing things off the nightstand.

“Wait! Tate! Ouch. Fuck, man! Stop throwing shit!”

“Get the fuck out!”

“I’m going, shit!”

The bedroom door slammed shut, and Tate was stringing curses together in a nonstop torrent as he tightened up like a freaking vice. I tapped his arm, and he looked at me, swore some more, and let me go.

“What are you doing?” he asked when I grabbed one of my slippers and stomped toward the door.

“Catharsis,” I snapped and flung it wide open as I stomped toward the couch where Tate’s younger brother was lounging with his feet on the coffee table, flipping through the channels.

“You look scary,” he said plainly, then tried to run as I started hitting him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, standing in our bedroom like a fucking peeping Tom?” I shouted.

“Fuck! Tate! Come get your woman before she bunnies me to death!”

“Don’t you fucking call for help, you sorry sack of pig pucky!” I swatted him again. “You were not raised in a fucking barn, Devon. It’s called knocking!”

“Knocking boots or on the door because it looked like one but not the other,” he blurted out and tried to shield himself as I smacked at him a few more times.

“On the door, you little shit!”

“Okay. Enough abusing the bunny, babe.” Tate laughed as he put his arms around my middle and pulled me away from the couch and sat on one of the stools at the island.

“Fuck the bunny! What about me?” Devon stood on his knees over the back of the couch.

“You fucking deserved it.” I pointed my slipper at him, and he flinched.

“You kind of did.” Tate laughed and kissed my neck.

“I can feel the love for your little brother, Tate,” Devon sat on his heels and crossed his arms. “On a serious note, why does she sound familiar?”

“This is Emerald,” Tate said. “She used to be my assistant.”

“Sexy voice!” He snapped his fingers.

“I will bury you,” I glared at him.

“Murder weapon: pink bunny slipper,” Tate waved my hand in the air.

“So how long has this been a thing? You know there’s a no-dating policy, right?”

“She quit about ten seconds before this happened,” Tate rolled his eyes. “Why are you here, Devon?”

“Gandy’s will, of course,” Devon smiled widely.

“Oh, dear fuck,” Tate groaned.

“Relax, big bro. I want nothing to do with that ball and chain. All that responsibility and ~rules~? No, thanks,” Devon shuddered. “I have a good thing going, and I want to keep it that way.”

“So, why are you here?”

“You know the requirement thing, right?” he said, and Tate nodded. “Well, you might need to revisit the one about the public image.”

“What publicity Tate has is nothing but good.” I frowned.

“Not anymore,” Devon said and clicked the TV over to a news station.