‘Wait, wait, wait,’ I said, throwing my hands up as David began to walk down the hallway with his suitcase.
‘Problem?’ he asked me, raising an eyebrow.
‘Yes, there’s a problem,’ I scowled. ‘Beginning with why my adult son, who has a wife and child has decided he’s moving back in with me!’
‘Oh, that’s because you didn’t give me a choice,’ he said with a smile and a nod, turning back down the hallway as if that was the answer.
‘I’m not getting a stupid stair-pal, thing!’ I yelled, stomping after him as he made a beeline for the guest bedroom. ‘And you can’t make me!’
‘Well,’ he said, unpacking onto the bed as I got to the doorway, ‘we can discuss the stair-mate if you like, but we’re mostly concerned about the low mobility bath modifications to make it easier to use.’
‘I’m not modifying my bath!’ I cried out, seriously tempted to stamp my foot.
‘Then I guess I’m just going to have to stay with you, helping you in and out of the bath tub,’ David shrugged. ‘Trust me, I’m not looking forward to it either.’
‘What if I call the police?’
He fixed me with a very pointed stare, followed by an eye-roll, and started packing his shirts into the dresser.
‘Fine then,’ I huffed, crossing my arms. ‘No police. But no baths either!’
‘That’s more of a you-problem, old man.’
‘Not if you’re living here, it isn’t,’ I smiled wickedly at him.
‘I can make calls,’ he said to me as I turned to leave. ‘See what available bathtub solutions for elderly people around Sydney are. It might not be anything too drastic.’
‘Or it could be demeaning and inconvenient,’ I scowled. ‘Why can’t you two just leave well enough alone?’
‘Because we care about you!’ he said, throwing the shirts onto the bed. ‘We want you to actually survive your next trip to the bathroom or up to your bedroom! We’re trying to help!’
‘I don’t need your help,’ I whispered and strode out of the room.