Page 24 of Changing Lanes

“Not as long as I can help it.”

Ty spends more time fixing up the clunker than he does working, which is one of many reasons why I’m footing the bill for our mom’s new place. I love the boy but he needs to pick a lane in life already, and not the one currently slicked in oil from his beloved whip.

We swim the afternoon away, lazily soaking in the sun while shooting the shit. Tysen is the easiest to be around because of his uncanny abilities but I often wonder what kind of a toll it takes on him to always be on. To always be who he thinks others want instead of being who he actually is. Even with Mom, I’ve watched as he slips into the role of charming stranger looking for a gossip buddy when a couple years ago he was seeking her approval at every turn, waiting for her to notice his good deeds and shower him with affection.

But like all families affected by Alzheimer’s, we have a part to play.

I work to keep my emotions in check all day to ease some of his own. I’d take all of his worries on if he’d let me. I’d take on everyone’s.

I am taking on everyone’s.

Most people think being the oldest is the hardest, always having to lead by example, looking out for the others. But I’ve always thought the youngest has it the worst, seeing everyone’s prior mistakes laid out for you like a mine field, each step you take measured and deliberated before you even set foot on the ground. Growing up the youngest means being shown what others want you to see, varied versions of the truth, forcing you to develop a sixth sense for sniffing out the hidden facts being kept from your presumed naïve mind. Some may choose to stay blind to the uncomfortable truths but not me. I’ve always dug around, searching for the real story, regardless how unpleasant the outcome. And studying Tysen now, I can tell something’s weighing him down. His smiles are a little too tight, his laughs a little too loud. He thinks I need comic relief but all I really want is for my family to be okay. Nobody can hold another up while crumbling themselves.

That’s also how I knew Mom needed to be moved out of the other facility while the boys were ignorantly paying for subpar care for the woman who raised us. Her sudden departure from any sort of reality should’ve been their first clue but none of them work in the health field so I let that one slide. The constant missed meals paired with the rapid weight loss was a dead giveaway though, so I stepped in and took over all medical concerns regarding our mother, moving her to Sunbrook as soon as I could swing enough money to get her in. It’s still a sensitive issue between the five of us but I refuse to back down. I don’t rub it in their faces that they chose a shitty home to put our mom in so they have nothing to complain about in my mind. If anything, I just put money back in their pockets while prolonging our only parent’s life. Sure, she can’t remember any of us but she raised us as best she could, mostly by herself, and while she’s still alive it’s our responsibility—our honor—to return the same, if not better care. I’d sell everything I have to ensure the rest of her days are lived out as comfortably as possible, memory loss or not. I don’t want recognition; the ability to see my mother’s face a little longer is the only incentive I need.

“How’s Mom doing at the new place?” he asks as if reading my mind. “Is she getting along with everyone?”

My hands swirl in the water beside my raft, making ripples without even meaning to. There’s a sign stating pool floaties are restricted and when the manager came out earlier to enforce it, all I had to do was drop my apartment number and she left me to float in peace. Maybe that’s their hook-up? Marc told me before I moved in that we had certain…amenities others didn’t. I’m still not sure what exactly that means, or how, but the woman was pretty young and attractive, so it’s not that hard to imagine. I can’t picture it being Marc since she lives like right there and maybe that’s too close for someone like him? I don’t know.

And in order to keep my lunch down, I definitely don’t consider my other roommate sleeping with the landlady.

I know if I was her and only had a quiet complex to manage, I’d be spending my days at the pool any chance I got, except this was the first time I’ve ever seen her and she acted like she was too busy—no, not too busy, like she was flustered—to even come down those stairs she lives at the top of.

“She’s okay. Not as responsive as I would’ve thought honestly. She sits alone in every setting, preferring to still be by herself instead of joining in with the others. She’s eating but I’m not sure how much.” We log everything from brushing teeth and bathing to meal consumption and bowel movements but ever since she arrived at Sunbrook, her chart’s been missing information. I’m not there during the day to know whose fault it is or why it’s incomplete at all, but I’ve brought it up to my boss already so hopefully it gets resolved soon. “She’s had a couple…lapses since she’s been there,” I say, remembering that family photo sitting on her nightstand, “so maybe she is improving. You should visit soon. When are you and Clarise visiting her again?”

His eyes drop and mine narrow for the first time this afternoon.

Clarise and Ty are high school sweethearts and have been together ever since, even after graduating six years ago. They used to visit my mom at least a couple times a week before.

Before.

Before everyone in the Christensen family decided to go their own way.

“Maybe.”

“Ty.” I wait until he meets my eyes again. “You’re the only one that visits her regularly besides me. If you’re pissed at me for yanking her out of that shithole, please, please don’t take it out on her. She needs us. We’re all she has left even if she doesn’t know it. Caleb’s work schedule is crazy and he can’t get away and Nicky is, well, Nicky. He’s sensitive and takes it personally every time Mom doesn’t remember him.”

“When was the last time Jesse saw her?”

I shake my head softly. “I don’t know, but it’s been a while. He’s having a rough time, too.”

Ty mutters something about him not being the only one but the sound of a sliding door opening has us lifting our heads. Beckett stands at the banister of our back balcony. Creekwood is broken up into three sections forming a broken U shape with the pool in the middle. Our apartment is in the central hub and has two balconies—one facing the parking lot, one overlooking the pool area.

“Is that your other roommate or are gearheads your thing now?”

Unable to take my eyes off the arctic blue ones locked on mine, I just say, “Yeah.” Maybe to both, maybe not. I don’t know anymore but Tysen doesn’t push further so I don’t either.

Beckett’s eyebrow lifts and I finally rip my eyes away only to find my brother missing. Suddenly, I’m airborne and landing face first in the deep end sans floatie.

Breaking the water, I yell out a watery, “Asshole!”

“What?” he asks innocently, totally not fooling anyone. “It looked like you needed to cool off.” His gaze raises so mine follows. Finding the balcony empty doesn’t surprise me. Big guy is probably off pouting again.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go drop that chair off. It’s almost time for my shift anyway. What did you decide you want for dinner?”

He jiggles a sunburnt shoulder. “I hear the place down the street has good salads.”

My jaw drops. “Jesse told you?”