Page 34 of Breaking the Ice
“Let’s go to the medical supply store,” Zach says. “I’m sure they have a lot of things neither of us know about.”
Even though I know that’s not his intention, I tell him, “You’re making it sound like I’ve been a bad caretaker.”
Leading the way through the automatic doors to the parking lot, Zach says, “Not at all, Ellie. Most people don’t know what’s out there until they need it. Needs must, you know?” He opens the passenger side door for me. “Where’s the store?”
“I don’t know.” I take my phone out of my purse before asking for the nearest place. I’m not surprised to hear it’s thirty minutes away. Maple Falls isn’t exactly a big place. “It’s a few towns over,” I tell Zach. “I can go by myself.”
“No way. I’m going with you,” he says after getting into the driver’s side.
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Don’t you have work to do?” I ask.
“No.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Although, I am truly grateful for the company, so I don’t give him any more trouble.
I turn the radio on to my favorite station and sing along quietly most of the way there. When we pull into the medical supply parking lot, Zach says, “I’ll pay for everything today and deduct it from the money I wire to you. Does that work?”
“It does, thank you.” I still can’t believe he’s going to give me such a huge sum to help him. I’ll probably give most of it back to him, but first I need to see the kind of damage today’s shopping spree is going to cost me.
Walking into the warehouse fills me with excitement. The thought of being able to help my mom without worrying about the cost is a novel experience. The first things I see are hospital beds. I tell Zach, “I’ve never thought about getting her one of those.”
He walks over to the first bed and starts pushing buttons. Not only does the top of the bed lift, but so does the bottom. My favorite part is that the whole mattress raises so Mom can simply lean against it before getting in. Zach signals an employee. “What are we looking at for something like this?”
Tom, according to his name tag, answers, “We rent hospital beds by the month. How long do you anticipate needing one?”
“Forever,” I tell him before explaining, “My mom is only in her fifties, but she has crippling arthritis.”
He nods his graying head. “In that case, you could probably get insurance to cover it, but these mattresses aren’t very comfortable for the long haul. Hang on, I have a catalog you can look at if you want to buy something better.”
When he walks away, I tell Zach, “Those beds probably cost a fortune to buy.”
“I bet they don’t,” he guesses.
It turns out Zach is right. I can get a brand-new hospital bed with all the bells and whistles for under two thousand dollars. While that would have been a daunting amount yesterday, I don’t blink today.
Zach and I sit down at a nearby table and flip through the catalog. The motorized wheelchairs carry a little more of a sticker shock, but Tom suggests we rent those first so Mom can try out different ones and see which one best suits her needs.
Forty minutes later we leave with a portable wheelchair, toilet lift and guardrails, and shower accessories. For a small extra charge, the bed will be delivered tomorrow.
Once we’re back in Zach’s car, I tell him, “I couldn’t have done this without you. Thank you.” Even though my gratitude is real, I still hate feeling like I’m in his debt.
“You’re welcome. Now, let’s go get lunch.”
“You don’t need to buy me lunch again.”
He smiles before saying, “Then you pay. Where should we go?”
I direct him to a fish house up the road where my parents and I used to go for birthdays. I haven’t been in years, so I don’t know if it’s still good, but I’m looking forward to revisiting some fond memories.
Once we’re seated across from each other in a familiar red vinyl booth, I tell Zach, “Their shrimp cocktail is excellent.”
“Is that what you always get?”
“I don’t come here anymore, but this was my family’s special occasion restaurant when I was growing up. That’s what I ordered then.”