Twenty minutes after Melissa picked me up from the hospital, I realized we were driving in the wrong direction. She kept saying I needed somewhere safe to recover. Then we pulled up outside a nursing home 80 miles from home, and I saw my suitcase waiting in the lobby before I had agreed to stay.
Advertisement
“You missed the turn.”
Melissa kept both hands on the steering wheel.
“I know, Mom.”
“You missed the turn.”
I looked through the passenger window.
My house was west.
We were traveling north.
“Then where are we going?”
“Just somewhere you can get stronger.”
“Then where are we going?”
Advertisement
That answer bothered me more than if she’d named a place.
“Melissa.”
“Mom, please.”
I shifted carefully in the passenger seat. My bruised hip objected immediately.
That answer bothered me more than if she’d named a place.
***
Two days earlier, I’d slipped on my back steps while carrying a bag of birdseed. Nothing broke, but I landed hard enough to spend two nights in the hospital while doctors made sure nothing more serious had happened.
