Anton

by Brenda Rothert

  Leah shakes her head. “I would never.”

  “Look, it’s not you,” I tell her. “He’s this way with all the nurses I’ve hired.”

  “Mr. Petrov, I don’t think this is going to work out.”

  My heart sinks. “No, please don’t go. If you can just ignore his mouth—”

  “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!” Uncle Dix barks.

  Leah holds onto the handles of the wheelchair until he’s situated, then wheels him over to me.

  “I’m sorry,” she says.

  I just shake my head. She’s the fifth nurse I’ve hired in the four months Uncle Dix has been living with me. He’s the brother of Laura Carr, the wife of the coach Alexei and I moved in with as five-year-olds. Martin and Laura are traveling the world, and their daughter Lindsey took in Uncle Dix for a couple months, but she’s got a family and he was teaching her kids words she didn’t want them to know.

  And Alexei? Hell, he’d party so hard with Uncle Dix the poor old guy wouldn’t last a week under his roof. Lindsey and I are the responsible ones, so now I’m stuck with Uncle Dix.

  “I understand,” I tell Leah. “I’ll have my accountant send your last paycheck.”

  She puts her coat on and heads for the door.

  “Hey, do you know anyone else who might be interested in the job?” I call out.

  She laughs humorlessly. “Try to find a hearing-impaired nurse for him.”

  “You’re a fat cunt,” Uncle Dix says to her.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I snap.

  “She is. Bet my whiskey’s in her purse right now.”

  Leah gives him an exasperated look. “It’s on top of the bookshelf in your office, Mr. Petrov.”

  When she closes the door behind her, I walk around Uncle Dix’s wheelchair to look him in the eye.

  “You know what? She deserves all the whiskey she wants for putting up with your bullshit. What are you doing? That was the fifth nurse.”

  He growls at me. “The first one was a goddamned man, Anton. I’m not having a man wash my dick and balls.”

  “Anna wasn’t a man.”

  “No, but she looked like one. And she treated me like a child.”

  “Well, you act like one most of the time.”

  He waves a hand and gives me a look. “Well, I liked the third one.”

  “Yeah, but you kept talking about her tits and ass. You can’t do that, Uncle Dix.”

  “In my day, women knew how to take a compliment.”

  I squat down so we’re at the same level. “Look, I have to work. And you can’t be here alone.”

  “The hell I can’t! I told you, get me one of those necklaces I can push if I need help.”

  “No way. The doctors told us you can’t be home alone. You could have another stroke and not be able to push a button.”

  Uncle Dix’s brown eyes flood with emotion. “When my time’s up, my time’s up. I want to live life my way ‘til then.”

  I’d feel the same way. But I can’t let Laura’s brother die on my floor while I’m playing hockey.

  “Look, your options are living here, with a nurse when I’m not around, or a nursing home.”

  “I’d rather be dead than in a nursing home.” Uncle Dix shakes his head.

  “As you’ve said. So that means a new nurse.”

  “Find a decent one this time, would ya?” he grumbles.

  “I’ll do my best.” I give him a wry look. “Now I’m gonna go make us some dinner, and then we can hang out and watch Jeopardy. After you go to bed, I need to go out, so I’ll have the front desk send someone up to be here while I’m gone.”

  “I don’t need a fucking babysitter, Anton.”

  “You want chicken or turkey for dinner?”

  “I want a fat steak and a cold beer, but I’m living with a diet Nazi.”

  I pat him on the knee and stand up. “Chicken it is.”

  I’m starving. I’ll have to grill several chicken breasts and roast two sheets worth of vegetables tonight. And even though Uncle Dix will bitch the whole time, he’ll eat it.

  And later, once he’s asleep, I’m going back to Lucky Seven to look for Mia. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. If she and Adam are still together, I need to know why she was bartending last night while he was out banging strippers.

  And if they’re not together…

  I may have a hard time doing the right thing.

  Chapter Five

  Mia

  * * *

  Mac Brown was once a giant. Standing 6’3”, with broad shoulders, a strong back, and black skin that glistened when he was working hard, my grandpa was my idol growing up. When our neighbors needed help moving furniture or unloading a truck, they always knocked on our door and asked for my grandpa. I felt a surge of pride every time, certain there was nothing he couldn’t do.

  And now it hurts my heart to see him so much smaller. At age seventy-five, he’s lost a lot of weight and is a shadow of his former self. The outline of his legs beneath the white bed sheets is nothing compared to the tree trunks he used to have.

  “Who are you?” he asks as he stirs awake from a nap.

  “I’m Mia.” I set my textbook down and stand up.

  “What are you doing in my house?” He looks from side to side uncertainly.

  We’re actually at Goodman House, a high-end long-term care facility for people with Alzheimer’s disease. But I learned the hard way that correcting my grandfather only agitates him.

  “I just like spending time with you,” I tell him.

  He gives me a skeptical look. “Did you steal my wallet?”

  “No, but if it’s missing, I’ll help you find it.”

  I don’t know what I’ll be in for when I visit my grandpa on my two days off work. Sometimes he’s happy and content, and other times he’s sullen and paranoid about the people around him. But his disease has reached a point where one thing is always certain—he no longer knows who I am.

  “These damn people are always taking my wallet,” he mutters.

  “Can I tell you something?” I sit down on the end of his bed. “I admire you and your wife very much.”

  “My wife?” He looks surprised.

  “Well, she’s gone now. Her name was Clara and she died of a heart attack five years ago. But many years ago, your daughter had a little girl and she wasn’t ready to be a mom. The baby’s father didn’t want anything to do with the baby, either. So you and Clara raised her as your own. You loved her very much and gave her a wonderful life.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. You’ve always been a very good man, Mac. Someone others look up to.”

  He mulls over my words, then says, “I have to pee.”

  My grandpa has changed a lot. Sometimes I only see glimpses of the man who raised me. But whoever he is, and whatever he becomes as this horrible disease progresses, I’ll love him.

  “Want me to help you get up?” I ask him.

  He prefers to be asked, rather than have people just take over and make decisions for him. He swings his legs over to the side of the bed but falters when his back doesn’t have the support of the mattress.

  “Can I help?” A nurse peeks in at us through the open doorway.

  “I guess so,” my grandpa says gruffly.

  At Goodman House, there are silent alarms everywhere. One sounded at the nursing station as soon as my grandpa’s back left his bed. And every time he moves around or gets agitated, a nurse is there within seconds. This place is expensive, but the peace of mind is worth every penny.

  “What are you up to today, Mia?” the nurse, Susan asks as we help my grandpa up and out of bed.

  “I went to the laundromat this morning and studied while my laundry was going. And then I came here to see Mac.”

  “He’s looking good, right? He’s even been sleeping at night a little bit.”

  “That’s great.”

  Alzheimer’s changes everything. My grandpa was always up at
5:30 a.m. and in bed by 10:00 p.m. But now he has trouble sleeping at night and often sleeps during the day. It causes him to miss a lot of his therapies, but the doctors have assured me this is common.

  Susan takes my grandpa into the bathroom and then he insists on getting dressed, so we help him into a pair of canvas pants and a flannel. He doesn’t like that he needs help, and my heart breaks at the way his brow furrows as Susan buttons his shirt for him.

  She tries so hard to distract him by talking about the weather and football, but there’s still a part of my grandpa inside him that knows he used to be able to do these things for himself.

  “We could go get something to eat and then sit in the library,” I suggest to him.

  His eyes light up. “Sure. Maybe Millie will be there today.”

  His enthusiasm stings a little, even though it’s irrational. He’s forgotten his wife of forty-nine years and the granddaughter he raised, but he remembers the woman here he’s got the hots for.

  Poor Millie doesn’t deserve my jealousy. She also has Alzheimer’s, and she seems like a sweet woman who loves life’s simple pleasures. But sometimes I shake my head inside, because while I know my grandma would want my grandpa to be happy, she’d be heartbroken to know he’s forgotten her.

  “Do you work?” Grandpa asks me over lunch of chicken and noodles and mashed potatoes.

  “Yes, I’m a bartender.”

  He nods his appreciation. “Nothing better than lying down after a hard day’s work.”

  “I think so, too. And I’m also in school, finishing up a business degree.”

  “Good for you.”

  My throat tightens with emotion. Whether he knows it’s me or not, my grandpa’s approval means everything. He dropped out of high school, and on my graduation day, he and my grandma hosted a party and invited the entire neighborhood.

  “Our Mia’s a smart girl,” he bragged to anyone who would listen. “She’s gonna be the next Oprah, just you wait and see.”

  I dropped out of college to marry Adam, the hockey player who swept me off my feet. Why finish when I’d be spending my life with a rich husband, I thought. My days would be spent cheering him on and raising our future children.

  How wrong I was. And I can’t put any of the blame for that bad decision on him—it was all me.

  Millie is in her usual chair in the library, in front of the big picture window where bird and squirrel feeders can be seen. Once my grandpa sees her, he loses all interest in me.

  I love seeing him so happy. I just hang out with Grandpa and Millie for a couple hours, the two of them hardly noticing me. Still, it feels good to just be with him. To see with my own eyes that he’s being cared for so well.

  “I’m going to head home,” I finally say, stretching as I stand up. “Thanks for spending time with me.”

  “Of course, dear,” Millie says warmly.

  “What’s your name again?” Grandpa asks me.

  “It’s Mia.”

  “Mia. Come see us again sometime, okay?”

  “I will.”

  I want to hug him, but he turns back to Millie, so I put my bag over my shoulder and walk to his room, where I left my coat. I’m passing the nurses’ station when Susan calls my name.

  “Hey, sorry,” she says sheepishly. “The billing department asked me to pass this on to you.”

  “Thanks.” I take the envelope and meet her eyes across the desk.

  We both know what it is. It’s a late notice for my grandpa’s bill, and it’s not the first one I’ve gotten in the past eight months. I sigh inwardly.

  “He’s doing well here,” Susan says softly.

  “You guys do a great job. I’m grateful.”

  I can tell she wants to say more, but she just smiles. How do you say what she’s obviously thinking?

  Sorry this place costs fifteen grand a month, but at least he’s getting good care.

  Before, it wasn’t an issue. But now…

  I button my coat and sit down on a bench outside the main entrance, tears filling my eyes as I take out my phone. I’m filled with dread as I pull up the contact for the last person on Earth I want to call.

  But what’s stronger—my contempt for Adam or my love for my grandpa?

  I push the button to make the call.

  “Hey,” Adam answers. “You ready to come crawling back?”

  I close my eyes, my tears now falling onto my cheeks. My voice stays steady, though. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing I’m crying.

  “My grandpa’s bill is due.”

  “Better find a corner to work, whore.”

  He’s been a dick to me for a long time, but still, it hurts every time.

  “Adam, will you please give me a divorce? Neither of us wants to be in this marriage anymore.”

  “I never said that. You’re the one who left.”

  I shake my head. “How could you still want to be married to me? It wasn’t good.”

  “My offer stands. I’ll give you a divorce if you agree that you get nothing. I’m not giving you a dime, bitch.”

  “I only want enough to pay for my grandpa’s care. That’s it. You know I could get more.”

  “Go for it, then.”

  His tone is smug, because he’s got me right where he wants me, like he has for the past eight months. He froze all our bank accounts when he found out I was leaving him, and opened new ones in his name only. If I file for divorce, which I can’t afford because attorneys are so expensive, I can get what’s coming to me, but it’ll take months, maybe longer, for things to get settled. And in that time, my grandpa will lose his spot at Goodman House.

  “I need to pay this bill,” I say, feeling defeated.

  “You know what to do. Earn it like the whore you are. I’ve got a check waiting—you just need to come blow me for it.”

  My stomach turns. I hate Adam. I hate what I’ve become because of him even more. I was so stupid, so completely blind. I thought his possessiveness when we were dating was sweet. I thought it was love. A big, strong alpha wanting to make me his forever.

  Now I know, though. He’s a control freak who gets off on making me beg and demean myself to pay for my grandpa’s care. He can’t control me anymore if we get divorced.

  “I’ll do anything else, Adam.” I can’t help the shaking of my voice as I speak. “I’ll clean your house, cook for you…”

  “You get the check when you swallow my load.” He hangs up on me.

  Chapter Six

  Anton

  * * *

  The first night I came back to Lucky Seven to see Mia, she was off. The night after that, I had a game. So by the time I’m able to return the third night, my anticipation is off the charts.

  I swear my blood heats up as soon as I see her. She’s got her dark brown hair in a bun tonight and she’s wearing a white V-neck shirt that stands out against her caramel-colored skin.

  After approaching the bar, I sit down on an empty stool to wait until she sees me. She’s drawing beer from a tap, listening for another order at the same time.

  “Hey, I know you,” a female voice slurs next to me. “Petrov, right?”

  “Yep.” I give her a polite nod.

  She leans closer. “My ex was a huge hockey fan.”

  “That’s good.” I don’t look her way this time, because I’m not taking a chance on Mia seeing me and thinking I’m hitting on her.

  “You here alone?” the woman asks.

  “Meeting someone.”

  Mia glances over then and our eyes meet. My cock starts to stiffen and my heart races with arousal and awareness.

  Almost every time I’ve seen Mia, she’s been at an event with Adam. I never allowed myself to really take her in then, to physically react the way my body craved. But this time, I give in and release my inner restraint.

  I’ve got a good poker face; no one but me knows what I’m thinking and feeling but me. And when Mia walks over, my hidden longing for her intensifies.

&nb
sp; “What’ll it be?” she asks, her bourbon-colored eyes studying me.

  “Water with lemon.”

  “You didn’t tell him.”

  I shake my head. “And I won’t. But how do you know I didn’t?”

  She looks down. “He’d…I would’ve found out.”

  She can’t seem to look me in the eye again as she turns to get my water. When she returns and sets it on the bar, she says, “Thank you.”

  “I need to talk to you. When are you off?”

  “Late.”

  I nod. “I’ll wait.”

  Mia furrows her brow. “Don’t you go to bed really early?”

  “Most nights.”

  A couple of drunks start pounding their glasses at the end of the bar, yelling for refills. I turn their way and scowl as Mia dashes off.

  If Mia’s heard I go to bed early, I wonder what else she’s heard about me. I’m known as a guy who eats clean, doesn’t drink, gets his sleep and doesn’t fuck around with women.

  In major league sports, I’m an anomaly. I’ve got some married teammates who don’t fuck around on their wives, but no one’s as strict as me about sleep, diet and weights.

  Some guys assume I think I’m somehow better than them, but I don’t. I just know this is what it takes to keep me in shape, especially as I get older.

  Mia gives me a look every time she refills my water, and once she even tells me she’ll be going straight home after work so I might as well leave. But I stay until last call, and as people are streaming out of the bar, I tell Mia I’ll be waiting out front.

  “It takes at least forty-five minutes for me to close,” she says, exasperated.

  “Okay, see you in forty-five minutes.”

  It’s more like thirty minutes later that she comes out the front door, locking it behind her and putting a key ring into her backpack.

  “Anton, it’s not good for me to be seen with you,” she says, pulling a stocking cap onto her head and over her ears.

  “You need a lift home?”

  She shakes her head. “I walk.”

  “In this weather? How far?”