The good news was, the flurries were holding off so I felt a little better as I made the five-minute drive to the Albertson’s on Alameda.

The bad news was, I was so involved in what I was doing, I was standing in line at the checkout when my phone rang. I yanked it out, saw it said Slim Calling, and realized I forgot to call him.

Crap.

I engaged it, put it to my ear, and said, “Hey, honey.”

“Where are you?” was Brock’s terse reply.

“I—”

“I’m standin’ in my livin’ room, you’re not here, and you didn’t reply to my text.”

With all the fun I was having cleaning up puke, I must have missed it.

Crap again.

“I’m—”

He cut me off again. “You also didn’t call.”

“Brock, give me a second to speak,” I said softly, pushing my cart toward the conveyor belt and starting to unload.

“So, speak,” Brock ordered.

“I’m at Albertson’s on Alameda,” I told him but got no more out when Brock spoke again.

“Babe, we’re doin’ pizza, remember?” he asked, and didn’t give me a chance to answer before he went on to query, “And what the fuck are you doin’ at Albertson’s on Alameda?”

This was a good question, considering the fact that for his place or mine I shopped either at Wild Oats or King Soopers, both on Colorado Boulevard.

I kept unloading the cart as I answered, “I’m here because your dad phoned. He had a treatment today, got sick, didn’t make it to the bathroom, and he needed someone to help him out. Jill and Laura are taking him to and from treatments and helping out at his house. Jill had dropped him off and he didn’t want to ask her to do more. I told him a while ago, if he needed to call on me, he could, so he called on me.”

This was met with silence.

I had the cart unloaded, and I shifted and commandeered the handle, pushing it through as I smiled at the checkout clerk and settled in to watch the bag boy bag my purchases.

When he didn’t speak, I did.

“So I went by his place, got it cleaned up but it still doesn’t smell that good. I’m buying some stuff to help with that then I’m going to make him some dinner, see to it that he eats it and keeps it down, and then I’ll be over.” I paused, then said, “Do pizza without me, honey. I’ll eat with Cob.”

Again, silence but this didn’t last as long.

Brock broke it when he said, “Your plans change, the shit goin’ down around us, you fuckin’ phone.”

Then he hung up.

I blinked at the bags.