I brought her home to stay with us while she recovered.
Tyler immediately appointed himself her assistant.
“Grandma, water.”
“I have water.”
“You haven’t drunk any.”
Mom would glance over at me.
“He’s bossier than you.”
“I learned from the best,” Tyler would say.
He brought her extra blankets, fetched her glasses whenever she misplaced them, and reminded me whenever the alarm for her medication went off.
Sometimes he would sit on the edge of her bed and read comic books aloud while she rested.
It was sweet.
At first.
Then Tyler began sleeping outside her bedroom.
The first morning I discovered him curled up in the hallway, I nearly tripped over him.
His pillow was tucked beneath his head, and his dinosaur blanket was wrapped tightly around his legs.
“Tyler?”
He blinked himself awake.
“What are you doing out here?”
He rubbed his eyes.
“Nothing.”
“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in your bed?”
