I let out a deep sigh and gestured towards David, my son, with a bottle of whiskey.
‘Why not,’ he shrugged, matching my sigh.
‘Now that the fun police is gone,’ I chuckled.
‘Don’t talk about Sarah like that,’ David frowned. ‘She’s trying to look after you.’
‘Why don’t you kids get it?’ I asked, measuring out two decent glasses. ‘I don’t need you to look after me.’
‘And why,’ David started, picking up his glass and knocking it back, ‘can’t you see that you do?’
‘I’m not some frail old man—’
‘You are literally a frail old man,’ he interrupted me. ‘You have the multiple surgeries to prove it. Why aren’t you trying to avoid the next one?’
‘Because I’m fine!’ I snapped. ‘You think it’s just going to be one easy step? Bathtub conversion here, stair-pal there—’
‘I think it’s a stair-mate, actually,’ David said, leaning over to pour us both another shot.
‘Whatever,’ I grumbled. ‘It’s not going to change anything.’
‘People use them for a reason,’ David shrugged, raising another glass to me. ‘They help.’
‘Bah,’ I waved my hand at him. ‘They just get in the way.’
I downed my whiskey too.
‘Why not try it?’ he asked. ‘For us?’
‘Because I’ve been trying things “for you” forever,’ I frowned. ‘You can only play that card so many times.’
‘And finding a company that can modify a bathtub for seniors in Sydney? That’s the line you’re drawing in the sand?’
‘And the stair-pal,’ I said. ‘Don’t forget about the stair-pal.’
‘What about your grandchildren?’ David asked. I actually burst out laughing.
‘Getting desperate, aren’t we son?’
‘A little,’ he smirked. ‘Doesn’t that tell you something?’
‘It tells me that the two of you need a hobby. Preferably something separate,’ I added. ‘Nobody likes siblings who are too close.’
He sighed and stood up from the table.
‘Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, Pops.’
‘Right back at you,’ I smiled thinly. ‘You drive safe now.’
‘Oh, no,’ he laughed, dragging a suitcase in from the entryway. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘What’s that?’