Then, like fire from heaven, it hits me. Aunty has had her own solution planned for me. Her persistent efforts to make me interested in Tim—she was trying to set me up with him. And not just on a date. She was hoping to be around long enough to see me married to Tim. Safe with people she trusted. Aunty admires Dr. Markowitz, and she wanted to see me become part of his family. Aunty gets her wish after all, even if it's not my choice. The Elder’s will probably make me go there. I wouldn’t be surprised if Aunty had it all in writing already. It will be just as bad as being married to Tim if I have to live there.
“Ivy?” Dr. Markowitz asks again, waiting for me to respond to his offer.
I don't answer my Aunt's friend. I just cry harder.
"It might be another week of this, it's hard to tell,” Dr. Markowitz graciously changes the subject. “She might not last the night. I don't have the right equipment to make a real diagnosis. If I had it, maybe I could've done something earlier. I'm so sorry, Ivy."
She would want me to tell him it's not his fault. I force myself to say it; for her sake, "I know you did everything you could. Aunty always said, 'All you can do, is all you can do. And all you can do is enough.'"
He smiles a little and says, "That does sound like her."
I glance at Aunty, and she wears a peaceful smile in her sleep. I wonder if she can hear us. I'll talk to her when the Doctor leaves. I'd love to think she could hear me tell her what's on my heart. Before she goes.
It isn't looking like God will answer my prayers the way I wanted. The Living always say 'If God doesn't heal here on earth, He gives perfect healing in Heaven.' I know it's awesome of Him to do that, to have a place for us with Him when we leave here; a place with no more tears and no more pain and no more death. But it's really only nice for the person who gets to go. The ones left behind still hurt. I know it's better than the alternative. I know for sure I'll follow shortly behind her, and we'll be together again. But, right now, I'm heartbroken.
"Catheter or bedpan?" Dr. Markowitz asks.
"Oh. Uh. How does the catheter work?"
After a short explanation on how to change a catheter bag, I choose that over the bed pan. Aunty will be horrified. If she wakes up again. I leave the room while he puts in the catheter. I couldn't stand the indignity of watching. Aunty was always so dignified, such a lady. Watching her decline is as hard as the thought of losing her.
Dr. Markowitz calls me back into her room and says, "I'm going to send Tim over to sit with you. There's little I can do right now, and there are others who need me today. Tim can do most everything I could in this situation."
I want to argue, but I know he's probably right. I don't want to be alone if she starts struggling for breath. And I don't want her to be alone, but I'll have to leave occasionally to care for our guests. I guess normal people would call in someone to help with the Inn. But I don't want anyone else in our home. It's Aunty's kitchen.
*****
Tim arrives only a few minutes after his dad left. I didn't hear the bell ring, and I assume one of the missionaries must have let him in. He found his way to Aunty's room where I've been sitting alone with her, trying to talk to her and not sure what to say. He has a small bag with him. I guess they had planned for this. He was packed and ready to come.
Tim looks with concern into my depressed face and asks in a whisper, "Do you have a room for me to sleep in?"
I didn't realize he'd be living here around the clock until it happened.
"Yeah," I answer and lead him out of Aunty’s room.
I walk him down the hall to room number 5. It's a smaller room, down the back hallway that attaches to the back staircase. It’s directly above my room downstairs. I show him the back staircase that we don't normally give guests access to.
Aunty's room needs a little rearranging if we are going to be sitting in there around the clock. I have no idea how long this vigil might last. I haul two chairs in and open the shades on the windows. It's already very clean in here, of course. But, despite how immaculate Aunty keeps her private space, there is still an unmistakable sick smell. It's too cold to open a window for fresh air, so I bring in a few candles and light them. It helps with the smells, but gives the room even more of a funeral home feeling.
I hear Tim coming down the hall so I straighten Aunty's blankets and make sure she's well covered. I want to preserve her modesty as much as possible. She would be horrified at all of this. The catheter, the smelliness, men in her bedroom, people staring at her while she looks so—old. She was always completely together. It's painful to see her so completely not together. I love her so much. I flop down in a chair and Tim finds me crying when he comes in the room.
"I wish you didn't have to go through this, Ivy"
I nod appreciatively and blow my nose.
"I'm lucky to have my dad and my brother. Not many people have that much family anymore."
Is he trying to make me feel better? I wish he'd go away. I don't need his help right now.
"What were your parents like?" he asks, oblivious to my desire to be alone.
Without thinking, I talk. I tell him about where I grew up and what mom and dad were like. About our little house and our big yard. I tell him about Hazel. I haven't ever told anyone this much about myself. Not even Harmony. Only Aunty knew all of this. When I finally run out of stories and grow quiet, Tim takes a turn.
He tells me about his childhood. I had never heard about his mom who died in a car accident with his little sister. He's had hard, sad things to overcome, too. It's a comfort to me. Not that I'm happy about his misfortunes, just—it puts things in perspective to remember that everyone has to go through stuff.
*****
Hours pass. Jack has run out of patience with Rosa and she sits on the floor near Tim and I while we talk. I find her a coloring book and a few more crayons which delights her. Tim says Ben and Jack have been invited to Mr. Terrell's for dinner. I'm relieved to not have to cook for all the people in our house. I bring some apples and bread and butter to Aunty's room for Tim and Rosa to eat. I'm not hungry.
Tim asks me about what happened in Commerce and I continue with my transparent babble and tell him the whole story. Even the part about being terrified of Matt when he showed up at our back door. Then, for some reason, I tell him the rest of the Matt story. How much Matt loves his Thomas, how surprised I was at Matt's humor and normal-ness. Tim doesn't respond or ask questions, he just lets me talk.
*****
Sometime after dark, Rosa climbs up in my lap and falls asleep while I stroke her hair. She never did get that bath and she's still wearing the potato soup. Tim and I are quiet now. He seems tired.
"You can rest," I say. "I will probably stay in here tonight."
I'm kind of hoping he'll leave so I can have the chair he's sitting in. Mine is super uncomfortable.
Tim checks Aunty's pulse and listens to her breathing. He doesn't say so, but I think she's gotten weaker.
"I'll stay awhile longer," he says, taking his glasses off and leaning his head back in the comfortable chair.
With his eyes closed, I can't help but study him. I have mostly avoided his gaze all day. He always looks at me with such ga-ga eyes. I know he likes me a lot. Maybe loves me. As annoying as his obvious attraction is, Tim makes me feel like he likes me for who I am. Which is surprising, considering I've never been at my nicest when he's around. What is there for Tim to like about Ivy Lusato?
With his thick nerd glasses off, he looks better actually. I never see him without his glasses, and they do nothing positive for his appearance. With his eyes closed, and his face relaxed, I decide he's decent looking. Really it's his personality that ruins it for me; so, irritatingly grown-up all the time. In the dim light, his short blondish brown hair looks darker. It comes to a point on his forehead that accentuates his nerdy demeanor.
Tim has filled out lately—he's less gangly—and I can see facial hair starting to grow on the square chin he inherited from
his father. He is wearing those faded green clothes that nurses wear. He's been wearing them all the time lately; ever since his dad "promoted" him to his new status at the clinic. I think it's a little much. I guess he's proud of his new job, but it wouldn't hurt to dress normal once in a while.
He opens his eyes and sees me stareing at him. I blush and look down. We've never spent this much time together before. It's very intimate. Even with Aunty there. And if she were to wake, she'd probably be thrilled to see us sitting here together.
"Do you need anything?" Tim asks in a sleepy, husky voice.
"Could you help me make Rosa a bed on the floor?" I surprise myself by asking for his help. Rosa is asleep in my arms and my arms are falling asleep too.
"Sure." He stands up and comes around to my side of the bed, squinting a little without his glasses.
I direct him to the linen closet with extra blankets and pillows, and he builds a nest on the floor for Rosa.
Standing up slowly, I gently set Rosa in the soft blankets and tuck the warm covers around her. Tim is squatting right next to me, helping. I feel his closeness in a nervous way.
"You are so sweet with her, Ivy," he whispers with peppermint breath. "I never pictured you being a kid person, but you're a natural mom."
His kind compliment reminds me how much I am hoping that the Elder's will let me keep her. Maybe Tim could put in a good word for me; all the grownups in town respect him. If I was willing to live with the Markowitzs, maybe they'd let me keep Rosa. It might not be that awful.
"You look nice without your glasses," I blurt in a whisper.
What is wrong with me?
I don't want him thinking I have any interest in him whatsoever. I stand up quickly and avoid looking at him as I back towards the door. "I better go make sure everyone is in for the night, turn off lights, lock up—" I stammer.
I tuck my head and hurry from the room. I need a break from the smells and the heavy thoughts in Aunty's room. I walk downstairs and jump at the sight of a strange man sitting at the window seat in the foyer. After a double-take, I realize it's Jack, all shaved and cleaned up. I won't miss the Mountain Man.
"I didn't mean to startle you. I'm very sorry about your Aunt," he says.
Tim must have told them she's—she’s ——dying.
"Let me know if I can do anything for you," he offers.
"Thank you."
"Where is Rosa?"
"Oh, I made her a bed with me tonight. Is that alright?"
"Yes," he says with a smile. "I hereby pass the torch to you. You are in charge of her for the time being. I hope she's a comfort and not more stress."
"Thanks. She is."
"Ben and I are going to sit downstairs for awhile and plan what we'll say tomorrow."
Tomorrow is homecoming. Still only Ben and Jack. It won't be a celebration at all. It has turned into a time of prayer and mourning. I won't be there.
"There is one thing you could do for me," I say. "I'll set out all the food that Aunty and I made for the dinner at the U.R. Could you and Ben take it over when you go in the morning? I won't be going."
"Of course. And we'll make sure the lights are off before we go to bed tonight."
"Thanks. I'll set out something for you to eat for breakfast too."
"That isn't necessary."
I nod and walk back up to Aunty's room.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Free At Last
Sometime during the night, something wakes me. The candles are still burning; and, by the soft light, I see that Aunty's eyes are open. She's awake.
I climb quickly onto the bed by her side. She glances over at Tim asleep in the chair beside her bed and looks back at me with a small smile.
"Are you ok?" I whisper quietly, full of concern. "I'm so glad to see you awake! Are you hurting? Can I get you anything?"
"Water," she whispers.
I hurry to the bathroom for a glass and fill it with cold water. Back at her side, I tip it slowly for her, helping her drink. Some of it dribbles down the sides of her mouth, and I wipe her chin with the blankets.
"Ivy," she rasps and I worry that she'll wake Tim.
I'm not worried for his sake, but for my own. I want her to myself. There's so much I want, no I need, to say and I don't know if this might be my last chance.
"Aunty, I love you," I breathe. My eyes are swimming with tears and one slips out and falls down my cheek, landing on her neck.
I had so much to say, but I can't find words for any of it. I feel the clock ticking, I know I'm running out of time, and it makes it even harder to think.
Of all the things I’ve wanted to tell her, "Thank you," is all I can come up with. It's ok because "thank you" sums up all the little things I would've said. All the millions of things she's done for me and given me.
I brush the tears from my eyes and see her nod her response to my gratitude. Her eyes are full of tears too.
Her face gets serious, and she entreats me again, "Don't fall away, Ivy"
"I swear I won't," I promise again. She looks worried for me, and I wish I could think of something to say that would ease her mind. She lays here in pain, dying, and her most precious thoughts are for me. I need her to know that she's raised me well. That I could never leave this Life she's led me in. I think of something, and though I'm not sure I can carry through with it, not sure my emotions will let me, I sing softly:
"Sing the wondrous love of Jesus,
Sing His mercy and His grace;
In the mansions bright and blessed
He’ll prepare for us a place."
Aunty closes her eyes, but I can tell she's listening. Through my tears, and very off key, I sing the chorus of the old hymn:
"When we all get to heaven,
What a day of rejoicing that will be!
When we all see Jesus,
We’ll sing and shout the victory!"
The old hymn is supposed to be joyful and victorious, but my heart is breaking and I can't stop weeping. I hope she understands now that I will be there with her. I can't keep singing, my sorrow is so deep.
She opens her eyes again and smiles, understanding my song and my message to her. I'm not going to miss out on being there in Heaven with her. I am sure in my faith. I belong to Him, even if He's taking her. It hurts so badly, but I won't allow myself any anger at Him. I can't afford even the smallest resentment. I almost walked away last week and He brought me back. I know how dear that is.
Losing her is the hardest thing I can imagine. To live without my rock, my security, my best friend is terrifying. I don't know how to take care of myself. She always did that. I lay my head on her chest gently and hold her. I hear how labored her heart is, and I count the beats. I want to will the cadence to keep going, to get stronger. But the gentle beats get fainter, and I'm lying against her chest when they stop.
I let out a gasping sob, and I feel Tim's hand on my back. In a beautiful baritone voice he softly sings the last verse of the song over us while gently stroking my back as I weep.
"Onward to the prize before us
Soon His beauty we’ll behold;
Soon the pearly gates will open;
We shall tread the streets of gold."
She's gone. My life might as well be over. I want to go with her. My heart is chanting, "Don't leave me here." I lie against her and cry for a long time, oblivious to anything else.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I Like Muscles As Much As the Next Girl
I'm still lying next to her in the morning. I cried myself to sleep beside her. Tim is gone and Rosa is tapping on my arm to wake me. I don't want Rosa to be scared, so I pick her up and hurry from the room without looking back myself. I don't want to look at Aunty —can’t bear to see her robbed of her beauty and vigor. Robbed of life. She's gone. What is left is the body that served me and cared for me and loved me. And I don't know what to do about it. I'm suddenly in charge of it. Her body. I need help. I feel so l
ost.
I walk down the hallway with Rosa in my arms and knock on the door to the back hallway—the door that leads to the back staircase and Tim's guest room and bathroom. I don't hear anything, and no one answers my knock. Maybe he went to the homecoming service. His job is over now. I thought he would stay—be there for me. I opened up to him and bared my soul. I'm already consumed with grief, but the hurt is even stronger when I realize that Tim is gone. I feel abandoned by everyone.
I open the door and start down the hall towards his room to make sure. Suddenly Tim is stepping out of the bathroom wrapped in just a towel. Even in my distress, I can’t help but notice how muscular he is. I’ve never seen a boy my age in just a towel, and the distraction makes me feel guilty. Tim’s hair is sticking up in wet spikes on his head, and he isn’t wearing his glasses.
I am feel confused and suddenly angry. Mad at Tim for standing here looking like this in a towel. I don't know why I'm mad at him because it's his room, but still, it's not decent. I'm so embarrassed to have walked in on him. I duck my head down into Rosa's hair and hurry back up the hallway.
"Sorry," I say over my shoulder, trying not to look at him. "I thought you left. I knocked."
"I'm sorry that you thought I would leave you," he apologizes gently.
His apology is more sincere. His quiet tone exudes the tenderness behind his words. I don't know what I think of him or his endearment, but I am relieved to not be alone.
I hear a door shut, and I glance behind me to see that Tim has disappeared into his room. I don't know where to go. I feel worried that he’s gone as much as I feel relieved. Is this what grief feels like for everyone? I feel like I’m losing my mind.
I step through the narrow door into the back stairwell and pull the door closed behind me. Holding Rosa close to me, I sink down on the top stair. I can't help but cry, my grief is still new and raw. Rosa looks closely at me and tries to wipe each tear as it falls. She has seen many tears in her little life, and it has made her compassionate. She leans over and kisses my cheek and looks at me expectantly.
"Kiss," I say softly.
INFECtIOUS Page 23
