….about this time a year ago, ‘I HAVE to be at home!’ Just an overwhelming feeling of ‘I need to be THERE. Not here at work!’
I sent off some emails to my CEO and branch manager telling them “I need be home. I just can’t shake this feeling.’
“Go home. Be with Nick. Do what you have to do.”
So I did.
Wednesday . . . I got home about 1pm to find the child there. “Aren’t you sposed to be at work?” (Get the FUCK outta my house you worthless little twit. You, who left your father on the floor of the bathroom gasping in pain while you play on your damn phone. Get OUT!}
(I hated having that child at my house. He was and still is beyond rude. Whatever. He’s out of my life now. No longer my monkey or in my circus….THEY get to deal with him now. GOOD LUCK!!!)
The child left when I told Nick, who looked EXHAUSTED, he should crawl into bed and nap for a bit. That child wore him out with stupidity. I tucked Nick in and he slept 4 hours.
Wednesday night, our friends came over and Nick signed his will. His handwriting had gone from perfectly readable to like a child’s. He would start writing and then it was like his muscles would quit. When we were done his legs would do the same walking back into the house. (I liken it to that toy we used to have as children. A dog or a clown or a bird standing upright, until you pushed the bottom of the base in and the tension would go out of the strings. It was unnerving.) We all sat around talking for a long while after and Nick was perfectly normal mentally. We actually had a pretty good time – considering. Everyone started leaving and Nick couldn’t get up from his chair well. I already knew I’d be carrying him back into the house. We did a good job of hiding how bad it was from everyone. I got him to the recliner in the living room. And he sat there for an hour before we headed to bed. He tried to go by himself and almost fell 5 times between the recliner and bed.
“What is going ON??” he kept asking me.
How does one answer that?