“What’s the biggest reason you have that routine with your mom?” Truman asked. It was always the first question he asked to make sure he understood a situation.

“She gets confused in the evenings a lot. And having me there helps because I’m familiar. It’s a routine. Plus she’s not great about remembering to eat, so, dinner.”

“Okay, so it helps her to have consistency and someone to share the evenings with. Someone familiar.”

Ash nodded. He was twisting the bottom of his baby-blue sweater in his fingers, pulling the stitches to their breaking point.

“Could it be someone who wasn’t you?”

“I can’t afford to pay anyone. I looked into it before I moved back, but it’s out of my price range.”

“But hypothetically, it could be.”

Ash frowned. “It could be if it was someone she knew. Someone consistent. Hypothetically”

“Okay, I have an idea. You know those people your mom invited to coffee?”

Ash nodded.

“She’s friendly. She likes people. People like her.”

Ash nodded again.

“What if she got housemates? Like, I know most of the older people are already set up. But Carla Muskee was talking about someone’s son who’s a painter, and I know those two kids who had coffee with your mom are young and probably have limited income. What if you found, like, two younger people who need super cheap accommodations, would be jazzed about having dinner together every night to share the cost and the company, and could be consistent people in your mom’s life that would make her feel grounded and secure.”

The silence was palpable. Ash looked utterly blank, and for a moment, Truman regretted saying anything. Then, he saw tears at the corners of Ash’s eyes, and Ash tried to blink them away. Clearly overcome, Ash’s tears came faster and faster.

Truman wanted to launch himself into Ash’s arms and stroke his hair, his cheeks, his back. Hold him until he cried every tear he had in him and then could speak.

What actually happened, as he reached out a hand to squeeze Ash’s shoulder, was that something horribly wet and cold grabbed his ass, and Truman squeezed and jumped up.

“What the hell?” Greta said. “Are you okay?”

In the time it took Truman to get both feet on the floor, he realized what had happened.

“Yeah, uh, ice pack melt situation. Sorry. I’ll…um…”

He wiped at the wet spot, but that just succeeded in more of the freezing wet spot coming in contact with his butt.

He looked over at Ash and saw that the tears were now streaming down his face.

“Oh, god, Ash, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Then he realized that Ash was laughing so hard he couldn’t speak.

“Hmph,” Truman said and held his wet sweats away from him. “I’ll be right back.”