He should have known by then to keep a close eye on Kimmy, as he was usually the voice of reason when it came to partying, almost always managing to cut her off before anything terrible happened. Sure, they’d each had a few nights hugging a toilet or an entire day in bed recovering, but they were in their early twenties and almost everyone they knew drank a little too much, a little too often. They were young. It was fine.
Sometime around 3:00 A.M., Josh scanned the living room and realized Kimmy was missing. He’d started to sober up and all he wanted to do was crash. He went looking for Kimmy, checking first the bathroom and then their bedroom. She was lying on their bed fully dressed. Most of their guests had gone home by then, although a couple of people had passed out on their couch. He took off her shoes, but she didn’t stir. He placed his hand on her shoulder to wake her and let her know he was shutting down the party, but when he glanced at her face his heart started to pound. Her skin looked weird, damp and mottled with a slightly blue tinge. He shook her harder. “Kimmy. Kimmy!”
He could not rouse her, and he panicked, yelling her name louder. His brain kicked in and he ran for the phone in the kitchen and dialed 911. His friend Tommy woke up and said, “What’s going on?”
“Get over here and stay on the line until they get here.” A lot of things went right that night because Tommy did what Josh asked, and Josh ran back into the bedroom seconds before Kimmy puked. He rolled her onto her side and gathered her in his arms so that her back was pressed up against him and her face was pointing toward the floor so she wouldn’t choke. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he said. “They’re coming. It’s okay.”
They pumped her stomach at the hospital, and when they finally let Josh back into the room, the charcoal they’d used coated the outline of her lips like some ghoulish lipstick. She couldn’t stop crying, and all Josh could do was hold her and tell her she was safe.
Josh didn’t tell his parents what had happened, and he didn’t really believe Kimmy when she said she would never drink again. Nevertheless, they took it easy for the next few weekends, but the pall lingered as the first few signs of spring arrived.
He got home from work one day to find the house empty. Kimmy had the day off, so he’d left her the car and bummed a ride with a coworker. She came home an hour later.
“Hey, where’ve you been?” Josh asked. Kimmy looked pale and kind of out of it.
“My mom called. Wanted me to stop by. Said she had something she needed to tell me.” That was unusual, as Kimmy’s mom rarely called her or even seemed like she wanted Kimmy in her life. “I thought … Well, I thought maybe she wanted to know how I was doing. How we were doing and everything.”
“Yeah? What’d she say?”
“She’s dying.” Kimmy sank down into the cushions of the lumpy, shitty couch. “She has something called COPD. It’s like a lung thing.” Kimmy started crying and Josh gathered her into his arms. He had no clue what to say. Her shoulders shook and she cried for a long time.
“What do we need to do?”
“There’s nothing we can do,” Kimmy said. “She’s going into hospice tomorrow. She said she’ll be lucky if she makes it to the end of the month.”
But she wasn’t lucky, and she died two and a half weeks later.
The family she’d worked for all those years buried her, and Josh felt a massive amount of relief, because there was no way they could have handled the expense themselves. And the bill for Kimmy’s ambulance ride and emergency room visit had just landed in the mailbox, and the amount made him feel like he’d been slammed to the ground and the wind knocked out of him. Josh was still covered under his parents’ policy, but Kimmy had no coverage at all. They could barely pay their rent, and their checking account was frequently overdrawn, resulting in service charges that put them further in the hole.
This was reality. A wake-up call for both of them. Josh stopped thinking about what he was missing out on and started thinking about what he needed to change in himself. It was time to stop playing house and start living like two adults who desperately needed to get their shit together.
It took a month of searching, but he lucked out when he found an electric company looking for apprentices. It would require buying some tools, and he had to swallow his pride and ask his parents to loan him the money. They took it better than he thought they would and told him to consider it an investment in his future. He thanked them profusely, and though he should have felt good about taking such a positive step, he felt like shit. He worked out a payment plan with the hospital and tried not to think about the fact that it might be years before they could pay it off. It would protect their credit history, though, and that was more important.
Kimmy had not gone back on her word about not drinking again, and Josh was down to a beer or two after work, but their house still seemed to be where everyone congregated. He came home and told Kimmy there would be no more hosting their friends until two in the morning and no one passing out on their couch. He had to get up early and he didn’t want to be dragging ass all day while he worked.
Kimmy agreed, although she didn’t look excited about the lifeline Josh was grabbing for them. Her eyes looked vacant and her skin was an alarming sallow shade. She just lost her mom, he told himself. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t been close. It was the only parent Kimmy had ever known and now she truly had no one but Josh.
* * *
Now Kimmy didn’t have Josh anymore, either. But Kimmy was not that same girl. She was thirty-seven years old and very capable and she would always have Sasha and that made him feel a little better. And someday, Kimmy would meet a man and maybe she’d grow to love his family the way she’d loved Josh’s.
Maybe Josh would meet someone, too.
Someday.
Norton, who had been following Josh around the house, settled in on the couch beside him and looked at him like, Well, what are we going to do now?
Josh reached out and scratched the dog behind his ears. “I’m not sure, buddy. Kinda sad, isn’t it? Grown man who spent his day doing household chores and cooking.” Josh sighed. “No, you know what? Not sad at all. It’s relaxing. If I can’t have my daughter, at least I’ve got sports and soup and you. No woman, though. That would be kind of nice. First snowstorm of the season. Maybe a little red wine. I don’t think I’m supposed to be thinking about that yet. Might make me look like some sort of desperate player who can’t be alone. I can be alone,” he muttered, as if the notion that he couldn’t was absurd. “Layla’s alone. You know Layla, that nice lady who took care of you when we were out of town. She’s gonna watch you again while I’m gone. She said it was just her. That means she’s single. Probably. Or maybe it just means no one lives there with her. She’s pretty, too. She might have met someone since then. I don’t know. I guess I could ask her.”
Oh, my God, he thought. I am talking to the dog.
A text popped up on his phone from his brother Jordan. It’s too loud at my house. Kids everywhere. Toys. Chaos. Sticky. Can I come over for the game?
Yep. I have soup and beer.
Be there in five.