Truth Be Told

by Marie James

  “So, months?” I’ve done my research. Six months is usually the high end of care for people sent home to fucking die.

  “It’s aggressive. She’s looking at a couple of weeks at best.”

  “W-weeks? That’s not enough time. We need more time.” Tears stream down my face as I look over at my frail mother in the hospital bed. “If she only has weeks, why can’t she stay in the hospital?”

  “We believe she’ll be more comfortable at home.”

  “Comfortable?” My anger spikes as I jab a finger toward her sleeping form. “She’s dying of cancer. There’s no comfort.”

  “Hospice care will be able to provide her with the pain medication she’ll need.”

  “So, pump her full of drugs?” The flash of her getting addicted to something is gone before it really forms because the cancer won’t let her live long enough to form an addiction.

  “I know this is hard news, and even harder times are coming for your family. If there was something we could do—”

  “Don’t,” I snap, uncaring that I’m taking out my pain on him.

  I leave him standing on the other side of the room and go to her bedside. Moments later, the soft whoosh of the door closing fills my ears. I’m alone with my dying mother, her fragile thin-skinned hand in mine as I cry.

  Losing her will be a blow I knew was coming, but nothing can really prepare someone for such a loss. I remind myself that she’s in pain, that she wakes up hurting every single day, and that it’s selfish of me to want her to stay. I don’t want her in pain.

  I want a complete do-over.

  I want to tell Ignacio about Alex that night.

  I want to tell my father I was staying in Houston all those years ago, and if he insisted on me moving anyway, I want to have been there to keep him from going to work that day.

  I want cancer eradicated from the world, so no other person has to suffer the way my mom is, the way I’m suffering now, the way my son will suffer from losing another person he loves.

  “I’m not ready,” I confess, my words mixing with the beeping of the machines and the bustle of the hospital on the other side of the door. “I’ll never be ready.”

  Time no longer exists until I look up and notice the sun has sunk so low in the sky an array of colors is announcing its final goodbyes of the day.

  A nurse informed me earlier that Mom will be discharged tomorrow morning, carried home by a medical transport company. I spoke with the hospice agency and they gave me a laundry list of things to get done to prepare, but I can’t seem to leave her room.

  Her breathing is even, and despite wanting to have hope that the doctors are wrong, I’ve seen her scans. I’ve had several hard conversations with her about what’s going to happen. I know it’s coming. I can’t wish it away.

  It still kills me to know she’s the last link. Alex and I have no other family. That thought makes me pause because I do. My brother, although I haven’t spoken to him in forever, is still around. I haven’t thought of him since Mom told me he may be coming to stay until his new job starts. Of course, Cooper made promises he didn’t keep, and now I’m tasked with tracking him down and giving him terrible news.

  I know he’ll blame me as if I’m personally responsible for the terrible things eating away at our mother’s insides. It’s a fight I’m not looking forward to, but before I can relay bad news to my brother, I have to go home and explain them to my son.

  When I was pregnant, I vowed to protect him from everything. I broke that promise when Dad died, and now I’m going to have to do it once again.

  I’m heavy, as if the weight of the world is dragging me down when I whisper my goodbye to my mom with the hope of getting to see her again tomorrow as I leave her room. I’ve been reluctant to step away even for a second, filled with the fear that the doctor is wrong about having weeks, knowing she’s in such a weakened state that she could only have days or mere hours.

  Leaving Alex home alone overnight isn’t an option even if Ignacio is there with him.

  I bypass all the fast-food places on the drive home, praying they found something to eat at home or Ignacio ordered food.

  For the first time since he arrived in town, the sight of the truck parked in front of the house comes as a relief, but I don’t have the time or energy to evaluate those emotions. I have the obligation to go inside and give my son news that may be his ultimate breaking point.

  Chapter 15

  Ignacio

  I wish I could feel the same joy I see on Alex’s face as the last out is called on the game. His team won, and they celebrate on the field as if it were the final game of the World Series.

  My phone has remained silent despite Tinley’s promise to let me know she arrived safe and how Brooke is doing.

  Thanks to Wren’s not-so-legal access to the local hospital’s system, I know she got there in one piece because she was logged as a visitor. Unfortunately, I also know how dire the situation is as well.

  The news is bad, like so bad my hands are shaking when Alex runs up and gives me a high five.

  “You were amazing,” I tell him, just barely resisting the urge to wrap him in a hug and promise him everything is going to be okay.

  “Where’s Mom?” he asks, looking around as people shuffle out of the ballpark to continue the rest of their Saturday. “Bathroom?”

  “She had to leave.”

  “Work?” He frowns. “Sometimes she can’t stay for the entire game.”

  I open my mouth to lie to him, but slam it shut. He’s had too many lies in his life already, and I don’t want to be one more person who has to ask him for his forgiveness.

  At the same time, I don’t feel like it’s my place to tell him what’s going on.

  “Your grandmother had—”

  “A doctor appointment?” he interrupts. “But it’s Saturday.”

  “She’s at the—your mom got a phone call. Brooke has been taken to the hospital.”

  His eyes snap up from the glove in his hands to mine, tears already threatening to spill over.

  “Wh-What? Let’s go. Which hospital? How long ago? You should’ve—”

  “Tinley told me to make sure you get home safe. She wants us to wait for her there.”

  “No! We need to go. Nanny would want me there.”

  “Your mom needs to know you’re safe at home. She’ll be under less stress if we do what she asks,” I hedge, hoping he’ll remember the numerous conversations we’ve had over meals since that first one about helping his mom out more.

  “I just…” He sighs. “Okay.”

  Without asking, I stop by his favorite burger joint and pick up lunch. He may not be in the mood to eat now because he’s worried, but it’ll be there for him when he’s ready. Once at the house, I scoop up the package on the front porch, knowing from reading the label that it’s the two sets of cleats I had delivered for him, and place it on the kitchen table once we’re inside. Alex doesn’t ask about it, so I don’t offer any information. Right now doesn’t seem like the time to tell him that I got his shoe size from Tinley and bought them even though he turned me down.

  “Has she texted?” he asks, coming into the room after a quick shower.

  He looks younger than his actual age with his messy wet head and pink in his cheeks. He has a light sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of his nose like his mother, and I focus on them for a second before responding.

  “Not yet.”

  “Can you text her?”

  “Sure,” I tell him after a long pause as I pull my cell phone from my pocket.

  Knowing what she’s dealing with I don’t want to bother her, but I also don’t want Alex to worry more than he already is.

  I fire off a text letting her know that we made it home, but I don’t include anything else.

  “I’ll let you know when she texts back.”

  He gives me a weak smile, sitting on the opposite side of the table from me. I pass him his food before unwrapping my own. It tas
tes like sawdust on my tongue, but I eat it anyway, once again trying to lead by example without giving him direction he may take as me bossing him around.

  Alex unwraps his sandwich, eating slowly as he gets lost in thought before just giving up and throwing the rest in the trash. As if he’s anxious and can’t sit still, he moves around the kitchen straightening things and cleaning. I join him in wiping down the appliances and even dusting the pictures on the walls. The house is nearly spotless already, but we don’t mention the lack of need for the chores as we do them anyway.

  Once the kitchen is up to his standard, we move on to the living room and hallway, sitting on the floor and scrubbing baseboards after he explains he didn’t get to this part of his punishment for getting in trouble a few weeks ago.

  I catch him looking at the door to Brooke’s room more than once, but he doesn’t open up about how he’s feeling.

  We’re five minutes into cleaning the bathroom when we hear Tinley’s car pull up in the driveway.

  Alex drops his scrub brush, the clank of it in the tub echoing all around us and rushes out of the room. I catch him at the end of the hall, touching him for the very first time with a light grip on his shoulders.

  “Let’s give her a minute to get inside. I imagine she’s had a very hard day.”

  I expect an argument, or at least for him to jerk away from me, but he blinks up at me, mere inches from being able to look me directly in the eye, and nods.

  We’re standing, me at his back with my hands on his tense shoulders, when Tinley opens the front door.

  She’s a fucking wreck. Her hair is disheveled like she’s been running worried hands through it all day. Her eyes are swollen and puffy. Her lips set in a hard line.

  Alex sees it all too, and it only takes one quick look at her before he pulls away and runs into her arms. He’s intuitive, knowing the news she’s going to share is bad. The kid has been dealt so many blows, I’d bet he’s been expecting terrible news since before we left the ballfield.

  “How’s Nanny?” he asks when he pulls away.

  It’s clear Tinley is reluctant to let him go, but she gives him space. My own arms itch to fill the void between them, but I keep my feet locked in place wondering if I should leave and give them privacy or stay to offer any help I can in this situation.

  “Did you win your game?”

  “Mom,” Alex groans. “Just tell me.”

  She turns, guiding him to sit on the sofa. The sound of my strong boy clearing his throat to shove down his own emotions makes the backs of my own eyes burn.

  How many times has he had to be strong for those that he loves?

  Even once is enough to make me wish I could change everything in the world to keep him safe and happy.

  “Mom?”

  Tinley wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, and in desperate need to let her know I’m still here, I offer her a box of tissues from the side table.

  “Nanny is really sick.”

  “But the doctors are making her better, right?”

  Tinley shakes her head. “No, baby. The doctors can’t fix her this time. The medicine they gave her for the cancer didn’t work.”

  “So, they try something else,” he bargains, unwilling to accept what his mother is trying to tell him.

  “There are no other treatments.”

  “Because we’re poor.” He turns his head, glaring at me, the accusation clear as day.

  “No.” With a soft hand on his cheek, Tinley turns his face back to focus on hers. “The doctors did everything they could. She’s had the best medical care that’s available.”

  I know that’s a lie, but I appreciate the olive branch she offers me in such a terrible time.

  “She’s going to d-die?” Emotion clogs his throat.

  “She will no longer be in any pain.”

  His eyes glaze over before tears stream over his lashes. He looks away, and I know that effort and the anger at wanting to be brave but failing. I experienced it many times growing up. I hate that he’s going through it now.

  He’s stiff at first when Tinley pulls him against her chest in a hug, but it only takes seconds for him to melt into her embrace and begin to sob.

  “I want to see her.” His words are muffled against her shirt, but the pain he’s feeling is obvious.

  Unable to maintain the distance, I cross the room and sit on the other side of him, placing my hand on his back and praying he doesn’t lash out at me in an effort to release the anger that has to be pumping through his body and filling his head with urges to expel it any way he can but knowing his mother doesn’t deserve it.

  He stiffens at first but doesn’t shove me away.

  I meet Tinley’s gaze over his shoulder, giving her a quick nod and smile when she mouths, Thank you.

  Tinley holds him as she explains that Brooke will be transported back to the house tomorrow and placed on hospice. The explanation dives deep when she has to explain what hospice is and the services they provide, making me realize that just because Alex is street smart there are many things he still doesn’t understand about how the world works.

  They sit, talking for over an hour as I listen. Neither of them defers to me. He doesn’t ask questions, and Tinley doesn’t involve me, but I don’t feel excluded until Alex, having worn himself out, stands from the sofa, explaining that he’s going to bed, before walking out of the room without acknowledging me at all.

  I do my best not to take it personally, but it still hits me hard. I wouldn’t say the lack of his attention is a step back, but it’s definitely an eye-opener to just how far we still have to go.

  The second Alex’s bedroom door closes, Tinley’s shoulders slump forward, small gasps of pain escaping her lips despite pressing her fingers to her mouth to keep him from hearing her.

  On instinct, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her to my chest the very same way she did Alex.

  She lets it happen, letting herself yield to my touch without hesitation. I’m hit instantly with memories, with emotions, with want and need and everything in between.

  I breathe her in, letting myself get lost in the familiar scent of the lotion she used so many years ago as I rub soothing circles on her back.

  How have I gone without this for so long?

  I’m hit with the loss of her all over again, the need to rush out of here and get drunk for days straight like I did last time almost becoming unbearable.

  Explaining why I did what I did back then to Alex was hard. They’d be impossible to explain to Tinley without confessing how I’ve always felt. How much I’ve missed her since my eyes tracked her walking into this very house. How I regretted the words the second they left my mouth, how I never stopped loving her.

  Even as angry as I am now for the lies, I love this woman. I don’t see a future that ends with us being together and happy, but I’ll never love another the way I love her. That truth makes me want to sob the way Tinley is right now in my arms.

  I clear my throat, making her stiffen in my arms as if she’s just now realizing who has been holding her while she broke down.

  “I’m sorry. I—” She pulls back some, sniffling and wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “Shh,” I tell her, using my thumb to brush away new tears as they continue to fall.

  She licks at her lips, and if there was ever a wrong time to track the swipe of her tongue over her pink lips, it’s now.

  Doesn’t stop me from doing it, but I’m aware enough to know it’s wrong, especially with the direction my thoughts are quickly taking me.

  Her eyes dart down to my mouth as if she just can’t help herself either, and call it instinct or muscle memory from the millions of other times our lips have met, but my body shifts, head leaning forward to capture her mouth with mine.

  Reality of what we’re doing hits the second I feel her breath on my lips, making me pull back.

  Her eyes dart away, and I hate the embarrassment tinting her cheeks pink as she
clears her throat.

  She’s vulnerable. She’s hurting. She’ll definitely regret anything we do, and I can’t compromise what I’m building with my son by pressing my lips to hers. I’ve had my mouth on every single inch of her delectable body, so I know my lack of limitations on stopping with just one kiss. Give me five minutes, and I’ll be inside of her.

  “Sorry,” I whisper, putting some distance between our bodies.

  “I umm... I have a lot to do tomorrow. I need to get some rest.”

  “Yeah,” I say as I stand from the sofa, suddenly feeling shy and a little awkward. “I can swing by to help if you—”

  “We’ll be fine. Alex has to get up and go to school, but I’ll—”

  “Tomorrow is Sunday, but do you really think he’s not going to fight you on that come Monday morning?”

  “He’ll want to do what makes Mom happy, and she’s always expressed the need for education. Since it’s important to her, it’ll be important to him.”

  I nod, not completely convinced that Alex is going to be willing to leave the house while Brooke is here on her deathbed.

  “I’ll call Mike at the school and explain what’s going on. Make sure he knows to keep a closer eye on him next week so he can defuse any situations before they get out of hand. I don’t want him to lose the progress he’s been making at school.”

  “Thank you,” she whispers.

  I see myself out, hating to be walking away but knowing that if I stay, I’m only going to make things more complicated than they already are.

  When I sleep, I dream of being a superhero and protecting everyone that I love from all the terrible things that could ever happen to them. I wake up feeling defeated because I know it’s never that easy.

  Chapter 16

  Tinley

  “I think that’s the last of it, Ms. Holland.” The young man gives me a smile as he makes his way back to the front door. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

  When I turn back to the kitchen, I frown at the bags of groceries and ready-to-heat meals on the counter and kitchen table.

  I told Ignacio I didn’t need his help the night I got back from the hospital with terrible news, but like every other stubborn man, he didn’t listen.