*     *     *

Dr. Richards’s office is small, or maybe it’s Martin’s behemoth frame. Add to that the giant elephant in the room and there’s barely enough oxygen to cover us all. Becca and my mother sit on the chairs opposite the doctor. Martin paces. I stand by the closed door doing everything I can to focus on the reason we’re here and nothing else.

“I spoke to Chazarae again after discussing her situation with you all yesterday,” Dr. Richards says, his eyes scanning the room, making sure he’s giving everyone the same level of attention. “In her case, time is a big issue, so I asked her again about who she wanted as her power of attorney. I mentioned that Martin was here, and so was Becca, and she understood, to a degree. But she still chose you, Joshua.”

I nod, not at all surprised. “Okay.”

“There’s some paperwork to fill out, information we’ll need from you… her PPO, HMO, life insurance—”

“I have no idea what any of that means. My son and I are covered through my team, but…”

Martin scoffs.

I glare at him.

Mom says, “I’ll take care of all that. Don’t worry.”

“Look,” Martin says, finally stopping his useless, mind-numbing back and forth pacing. “She needs to go to a facility where they can take adequate care of her, right? That’s what this is all about. So how much is this going to cost?”

I clear my throat and step behind Becca and Mom and speak directly to the doctor. “The cost does not matter. I’ll cover it. But I really don’t like the idea of her being in a home. It just doesn’t sit right with me.” I think about all the things that came to mind last night while I was watching Chaz sleep, her breaths even, her body peaceful. I thought of all the moments she’s encouraged me, pushed me to be a better person, a better son, a better father. I swallow the lump in my throat and add, “She’ll just be a patient there, not a person. And what about her garden? She loves her garden. And her TV shows. And church? Can she even still go to church?”

Silence falls, just for a moment before Mom surprises me by saying, “I agree with Josh. What about in-home care?”

“That’s a possibility?” I ask the doctor, hope kicking in for the first time in days.

Dr. Richards leans back in his leather chair and crosses his legs. “It’s a lot pricier.”

“I don’t care.”

Martin scoffs. Again. And I crack. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Josh,” Mom warns.

Becca stands, her hand on my chest, her back to her father. She shakes her head, another warning—only hers is silent. I inhale a calming breath and force myself to ignore him the way he’s ignored me.

Dr. Richards answers, “I’m concerned. I think it’s important for her to socialize and be around people who understand what’s going on with her. As we all know, she’s alone the majority of the time. In a facility, she’ll be around—”

“Other people like her?” I interrupt. “She has friends. She has a life, and she’ll continue to do so outside of this disease. I’ll make sure of it.” The words fall from my lips, rushed and unapologetic.

The doctor seems to concede. “A live-in nurse is an option. I can gather some files and résumés for you to go through.”

“Yeah, let’s do that.” I turn to Becca. “Is that good with you, Becs?”

She nods.

“And immediate care until then? What does she need?” I’m glad Mom asks because all I seem to be doing is shoving my opinions and demands in people’s faces.

“She can be discharged soon. A nurse will come by the house and make sure she has everything she needs. She’ll also speak to you all so you can make sure she takes her meds on time, every day, until she’s comfortable with the routine.”

Martin clears his throat. I don’t look at him when he says, “I have to be back at work in a couple days, so…”

So… Good.

“I can stay at the house, or drop by and check in on things. At least until Josh starts skating again and we’re comfortable with whoever we choose,” Mom says, lifting some weight off my shoulders.

Becca types away on her phone. “I don’t have classes for another week and a half. I’d be a lot more comfortable going back if we could get it done before then.” And the weight returns, only now it’s doubled, crushing my insides. Because she’s leaving. I knew she would be—but not this soon, and having her actually say it makes the countdown real. She looks over at me before going back to her phone. “Will that be okay, Josh? If we do it together, that should give us enough time, right?”