Page 110 of Obsession

“Yeah. They were embarrassed as hell at how they been toward you.” He crossed to the table against the wall and put down the heavy bags.

He looked around the place. “Where’s your husband? There’s enough for him.”

“Resting. I had to give him a sedative. He’ll wake up soon for dinner.”

The expression in Bobby’s eyes was sincere. “Rotten luck, Lara.”

“For him, mostly.” Tears threatened again.

Bobby covered her hand with his. His reddish hair framed a face of freckles and youth. “For you, too.”

He opened all the cartons, set out a paper plate and napkins he’d also brought. The scents of meat, noodles and soy sauce filled the air. Bobby picked up a carton. “You ordered cashew chicken at work when we got takeout.” He pointed to a carton. “That’s it. Now, eat.”

Touched that he was so considerate, she sat down. “Stay and eat with me, Bobby. I want you to.” She craved company. It got lonely taking care of Sammy.

He sat. “I was hoping you’d ask me to stay.”

As he dished out food, she checked the clock. “Our shift isn’t over with yet.”

“The cap let me go early.”

“Did he know you were coming here?”

“Yep.” After she served herself, he took a chopsticks-worth of Moo Goo Gi Pan and stuffed it in his mouth. Then he said,“My uncle had ALS. So I know what it’s like. To watch him deteriorate. To meet his needs. My mom helped out her sister and I went with her until he passed away.”

“I’m sorry for your family, Bobby.”

“Thanks. Now, after we eat, you’re heading out to get a drink. Or shop. Or sit on the park bench and stare out at the grounds.”

“No, I couldn’t. He might wake up.”

“I know how to care for him, Lara.” He didn’t look so young, now. “You have to let people help you.”

She wanted time to herself, to be outside so bad. “I do, but—”

“Eat up, Swanson. If you’re not here when he wakes up, he’ll think I’m another aide.”

“He used to be a firefighter. He’d probably appreciate you’re one.”

“Then that decides it.”

She said with a smile, “Okay. To all of it.”

* * *

Later that night, Jackson Kane spiked the serve into the back corner of the gym’s racquetball court in the Westwood Y. It bounced out.

“Shit,” Joe said, shaking his head, walking toward the little blue sphere. He picked it up and tossed it over the net. “Good shot.”

“There’s the Joe I know.” Jackson cocked his head. “You sure you don’t want to quit and talk?”

Joe sighed. “Let’s finish the game.”

His friend lobbed an easy one to him. He smashed the ball back but it fizzled out in the net. “Yeah, let’s quit.”

They walked toward the side of the court, their clothes damp and their hair wet. They drank some water, wiped up with towels then headed to the cafe. The sounds of clanking weights and buzzing machines were noticeable out here in the Y. When theywere settled with drinks in a corner of the cafe, Jackson asked, “Spill, buddy. Where’s your mind at?”

“Whowould be a better question.”