“What’s wrong, Dad?”
“They’ve been in here again,” he says.
My stomach curls with dread. “Who has? Who’s been here?”
“The men.”
“What men?”
I keep my voice calm but my head is spinning. Some men were here in the night?
“The men who took your mother.”
I rest my hands on his shoulders. “Dad, no one took Mom. You told me yourself.”
“No…” he blinks up at me, a terrified glint in his eye. “They carried her out and they didn’t bring her back.”
“The paramedics?” I guess.
Tears fall down his cheeks and my throat tightens.
“I don’t know who they were.” He shakes his head. “But they were here last night, when you were gone.”
I glance around, worried he might be telling the truth, butthere’s no sign of anyone having been here. No dirt marks on the carpet, no paperwork, nothing.
As I watch, his expression changes.
“Do you remember what they were wearing?” I ask.
“Who?” he says.
“The men who came in here last night,” I repeat slowly.
“There were no men here, Fi.” He wipes the back of his hand across his cheek, seeming surprised when it comes away wet.
My heart slams repeatedly against the wall of my chest. What just happened?
“Oh, okay,” I mutter. “That’s good. I’m going to run you a bath, okay?”
“That sounds wonderful, thanks love.”
I force a smile and go to the bathroom, closing the door behind me, then I back up against it and take some deep breaths.
My heart is slowly sinking. His memories and thought processes are declining faster than I can get a handle on his condition. As soon as this month’s up, I need to get a job, so I can support us both, and I can get Dad some care.
Once I’ve settled him in a nice warm bath, I head to the kitchen to make him a late lunch. Halfway through chopping vegetables, my phone pings. It makes me startle because no one ever texts me. Maybe Shane once or twice, but that’s all.
I don’t recognize the number but I swipe open the message and read.
Unknown: Is it wrong that I still haven’t showered?
I gasp and drop the phone on the counter. A splashing sound comes from the bathroom, so I push the kitchen door closed so I don’t disturb Dad with any more calamitous incidents.
Is thisFiero?
Me: I don’t know. It depends who you are…
Unknown: You know who I am, cucciola