I can’t cook. I will ask Bob if he wants pizza. I know he will, we both love pizza. I will ask him when he gets off the phone.
I think of Rich. He has gone through a lot of the same shit as Bob. I think, damn, I sure can pick em’. He doesn’t even remember his father. He wasn’t there much even when he was there. He hadn’t seen him since he was seven years old. Wait, he did see him when I took him to court for child support. He was 17. It was awful; he couldn’t even speak to his father.
He dealt with his older brother’s addictions longer than I was ever aware. He was devastated when Jim died. We all were. It’s something we’ll never get over. It’s such a lie when people say, time heals. It doesn’t.
I think of what a wonderful brother Rich is to Bob. I often say, he raised Bobby. He was so much more than a big brother. I don’t know what I would do without them both. I am so happy Rich moved to Las Vegas shortly after Bob and I did. He has always been there for Bob and now I think, oh my God, he will have to be there for him again if I don’t tolerate Gleevec.
“What’s for dinner mom?” asks Bob putting down the phone.
“How about pizza?”
“Cool, I’ll call Joey’s.”
Bob rides his skateboard around the corner to Joey’s and picks up the pizza, like he always does. We watch TV while we eat pizza, like we always do. After we eat, I announce, “I’m going to take a bath, do you have homework?”
I know he does, but for some reason I don’t get mad and say anything. Instead, I’m happy to take a bath where I can think and cry. I can’t stand it for long and I yell from the tub, “Bob, do your homework.” I hear him laugh.
The phone rings and I hear Bob talking. I can tell it’s my mother.
After a few minutes, Bob says, “Mom, its Grandma.”
“Tell Grandma I will call her tomorrow after I get home. Friday is an early day, so I’ll call her about three o’clock.”
I start thinking about all the side effects of Gleevec. I think of throwing up right after taking the pills. I think of getting a rash all over my body. I think of a really bad weekend being sick. I think, well at least I can get used to it over the weekend. I think I’ll be fine when I go to work on Monday.
I don’t sleep well. Who would?