by Erin Zak
“I can’t right now, Gwen. I can’t. I don’t…I don’t know how…” She reaches up to move Gwendolyn’s hand and squeezes it. “I don’t know how to deal with everything going on inside of me. Okay?”
Gwendolyn nods. It’s small, and she doesn’t say a word, which crushes Lila and also gives her the courage to leave without looking back. When she finally opens the door and rushes out, she has the sinking feeling that nothing is going to be the same after this.
* * *
Gwendolyn snuggles a little closer to her mom. She came to check on her and give her a pain pill for the night, and she was wide awake, staring into the dim light from the bedside lamp. “Come lie with me,” her mom said, and for the first time in ages, Gwendolyn didn’t want to say no. She crawled in next to her and pulled the blanket up around her.
She observes her mother’s profile, the slope of her nose, the pronounced cheekbones, the curve of her jaw. She was told for most of her life how much she resembles her mom, which has never been a compliment. Not really. Because she was too upset for all those years to even look at a picture of her. But now? Now that she’s seen the strength and tenacity, she wants to stare at her, admire her, and realize how very badly she fucked up. She’s weak and has no spine because a woman with a spine would have remedied her relationship with her strong mother. She would have had the courage to say she was wrong for never coming home, wrong for leaving and never looking back, wrong for not allowing her mom to fix the mistakes.
The amount of regrets piling inside her heart are beginning to weigh her down in a way she never anticipated. “Mom?”
“Hmm?” The gentle hum is comforting. Gwendolyn remembers that hum from when she was a child, being rocked to sleep when she wasn’t feeling well. And now her mom is the one who doesn’t feel well.
“I’m really sorry.”
“Oh, Gwennie.” Her voice is soft, but there’s a rasp that didn’t exist until radiation started to burn her esophagus. “You being here is all the apology I need.”
Gwendolyn spent most of her adult life teaching herself how to cry on command. She remembered learning how to recall a sad memory, something that causes such a visceral emotion that she can pull it up at any moment, and it will cause her to cry. Throughout her career, the memory has been when her grandmother told her about her dog Buster being put to sleep. She was so connected to that dog. It was the only animal she’d ever had because the idea of losing another made her want to curl into a ball. So if she needs to cry, she pulls that memory out of the archive. The Buster memory has now been replaced with her mom saying, “You being here is all the apology I need.”
“You need to give your father a break.” Her voice is so weak. Almost as if she doesn’t quite believe she’s saying it, but she is. She really is. And Gwendolyn isn’t sure how to respond since he doesn’t deserve a break. In fact, he deserves to be broken. And Gwendolyn has to hold herself back from spitting those words out in a tone which would not go over well. “He’s a good man.”
“Mom—”
“No, Gwendolyn, I need to say this to you because what if—”
“No, Mom, don’t.”
“Listen to me.” Her words are forceful and covered with an “I mean business” tone. She can barely keep her eyes open. For the briefest of seconds, she closes them, and Gwendolyn wonders if she’s nodded off. But she breathes deep and lets out a very deep sigh before she continues. “I know how it looks.”
“How what looks?” The question seems so loud against the quiet backdrop of the soundless night.
“Honey…”
“Mom,” Gwendolyn says under her breath. “I saw him with another woman.” The words come out, and she isn’t sure how she let them when she was fairly certain she wasn’t going to say a word. She was going to keep her mouth shut. None of what has happened between her parents is her business any longer. She chose to leave. She chose to not be a participant in their lives. But sitting there, looking at her mom, she knows it’s no longer possible to stay silent.
But her mom’s second deep sigh and the way her eyelids slide open and the small smile on her lips makes her wonder if she should have listened to herself. “Do you think I don’t know what goes on?”
She blinks twice, three times, takes a breath, and lets it out before she asks softly, stammering, “Ex…excuse me?”
Her mom closes her eyes again, the small smile still displayed, and shakes her head. “I have known for years. Years and years.”
“But…why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would you stay?”
“Why would I leave?”
“Mom…you’re not making any sense.”
“His transgressions are necessary. For him.” A cough rattles deep in her chest. She takes a second to calm down, and once she does, she motions for the water on her bedside table. Gwendolyn maneuvers to assist her, turning the straw. Her mom drinks greedily and smacks her lips. “You should know I have always known.”
“I’m so confused.” Gwendolyn sits up and stares at her dark circles, at her knit cap, at her cracked, dry lips. She looks awful. Gwendolyn has been trying to keep a level head on her shoulders, but finding out her father has been unfaithful for years is quite the blow. She’s not sure she can handle much more.
Unfortunately, her mom seems to get a second wind and grabs her arm. “In the past, it didn’t bother me because aside from that one thing, he was a great husband. He helped me in all the ways I needed. And we continued to have sex, which was never mind-blowing, but it was always good.” She takes a few breaths, the small amount of conversation hard on her.
Gwendolyn begins to struggle between being disgusted and intrigued. She doesn’t want to know about her parents’ sex life, or lack thereof, but at the same time, she’s interested to know why her mom didn’t ditch her lowlife father at the first sign of infidelity. “But now?” She fights to say the word. She doesn’t know why it’s stuck in her throat.
“He never had someone for this long before.” She licks her dry lips. “He started before he knew I was sick again. And I almost told him then that I knew, but I couldn’t.”
“Because you were afraid?”
She nods and yawns, which causes her to have another coughing spell. The rattle is sounding worse. It can only mean one thing. “Mom, you need to sit up. That cough doesn’t sound good.”
“Always changing the subject.” Her mom chuckles as she rearranges herself. Gwendolyn helps move the pillows so she’s propped upright. Her color seems better, but it’s probably Gwendolyn’s mind playing tricks on her.
“Can you explain one thing to me?”
“What’s that?”
“Why were you afraid?”
Her mom takes a few deep breaths. In through her nose, out through her mouth. The breaths should be deep, but they seem to only scratch the surface. The nurse said she might need oxygen sooner rather than later. Not many people turn back once a tank is necessary. Gwendolyn’s done the research, of course. Hours and hours of reading article after article, chat after chat, FAQ after FAQ. The glaring reality that things are not getting any easier is starting to become more obvious.
“Honestly?” Her mom breathes out again and grips Gwendolyn’s fingers. “I didn’t want to be alone. And calling him out now…”
“Mom.” Gwendolyn’s tears are an immediate reaction to the idea of her mom handling cancer alone. Her mom, whom she hated three months ago. Her mom, whom she had no real excitement over seeing. Her mom, whom she cannot imagine living without now. How has any of this happened? She doesn’t know how to cope with these emotions she spent so many years and so many thousands of dollars in therapy to bury. Dr. Rudolph would be pissed if she heard Gwendolyn admit she’s been burying these things instead of trying to heal them. Fuck.
“Know that I’m happy.”
“You really are?”
“I am happy. I am.” Her sad smile causes Gwendolyn’s heart to clench. “I am not going to survive this.
You know this. Don’t you?”
It doesn’t matter how much she’s tried to wrap her brain around the glaring reality of what has happened in the past two months; the words still smack her right across the face. She feels as if her breath has been stolen. She tries to nod, but it doesn’t work.
“Your father will be your family, and you need to find a way to forgive him.”
“I don’t know if I can.” She places her hand over her mouth as she starts to sob.
“Lila forgave him. You need to as well.”
She hears the words. But she’s still frozen mid-sob. She blinks the tears away, and through her gasps, finds a way to speak. “Wh…what?”
“Lila knew she needed to forgive him when she found out years ago. She has. It took a long time, but she did.”
“Lila knows?”
Her mom nods. It’s a simple gesture, but for some reason, it seems to take the rest of the wind from her sails. Her shoulders slump, and her eyes close. “I made her.” She takes a labored breath. “Promise to not.” Another breath. “Tell you.”
Sleep captures her like a thief in the night. Her chest moves up and down, the simple act of breathing almost too much for her weak body. Gwendolyn doesn’t know what to do. And not only with the information about her mom’s condition. She looks at the phone on the bedside table, picks it up, and dials the only number she has ever memorized.
The line rings once.
Twice.
Three times.
“Pick up,” she whispers, then holds her breath for two beats when finally, the line clicks.
“Hello?”
“Dad?”
“Gwendolyn?”
“I need you to come home. Please?”
“I’ll be right there.”
The line goes dead, and Gwendolyn places the receiver on the cradle. She continues to study her mom as her breathing gets worse. Is this it? Is this when it happens? She isn’t sure. And she doesn’t know what to do except silently ask for someone, anyone, to help. Whatever Higher Power is listening, please…don’t let this happen yet.
* * *
The steady beep of the machines is too annoying to sleep. Gwendolyn sighs as she adjusts her position in the insanely uncomfortable hospital chair in her mother’s room.
Pneumonia.
The diagnosis is not going to kill her, but it’s not going to help. In fact, she should have come in a lot sooner, which makes Gwendolyn feel even worse. She thought she was doing so well taking care of her mom, and here she misses the window to head a horrible infection off at the pass.
“It’s okay, Gwendolyn,” Dr. Wynn said softly when she did rounds first thing in the morning. “It’s not easy to diagnose if you’ve never dealt with it before.” She winked. “You’re not a medical professional, even if you have played one on TV.”
Gwendolyn had chuckled through her tears, thankful Dr. Wynn had a sense of humor because hers has all but gone these days. She is tired, on the verge of a mental and emotional breakdown, and severely confused about everything going on in her life. “How long will she need to be here?”
“At least a week. We need to monitor everything. I want to give her another blood transfusion.”
“What were the results of the PET scan?” Gwendolyn asked, never looking away. “We were going to get the results today at her appointment. Can you give them to me now?”
A look washed across Dr. Wynn’s face.
“Oh no.”
She placed her hand on Gwendolyn’s bicep and squeezed. “We need to discuss stopping treatment.”
“Are you…” Her voice caught in her throat, strangled by the emotion she was trying her hardest not to unleash. “It’s only been six months. The third round was hard, but she handled it.”
“Gwendolyn.” Dr. Wynn’s gentle tone was almost harder to take than the news. “It has metastasized.”
“Where?”
“All along her spine. Her liver.” Dr. Wynn took a deep breath. “Her brain.”
The desire to cry right then and there was so strong, but no tears came. Gwendolyn was numb. Completely numb.
“If we stop everything, she might have a couple months where she isn’t sick the whole time. We have to get her over this pneumonia hump and then give her some good days. We always knew this was a long shot.”
“I’m sorry. What?”
“Gwendolyn, did your parents not tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
Dr. Wynn took a very deep breath. She looked uncomfortable. “Treatment had a very slim chance of working.”
“She knew it might not work?”
“They both did.” Dr. Wynn looked as if she was forcing her small smile. “Carol specifically said she wanted to try, though…for you.”
Gwendolyn’s throat tightened. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but no sound came out.
“We know so little about this rare type of cancer. It’s so hard to fight.” Dr. Wynn wiped her eyes. Her makeup smudged. “She has put up a good one, though.” She placed her hand on Gwendolyn’s shoulder this time and squeezed again. “I’ll be back in a while to check.”
Gwendolyn’s mind is racing now as she goes over the entire exchange again. The truths she’s been slapped with in the past twenty-four hours have been hard to swallow.
Her mom knows about her father’s infidelity.
Lila knows about her father’s infidelity.
Her mom knew this cancer was going to kill her but tried to fight anyway.
For her.
Gwendolyn glances at her father, who hasn’t left her mom’s side. Why couldn’t he have been this way the entire time? Why couldn’t he put his needs aside for the time being and be there for his wife? Fuck, be there for her, for Christ’s sake?
He continues to smooth his hand over her mom’s. He is softly humming Bette Midler’s “Do You Want to Dance” as he strokes her hand, rubs her arm. He’s rocking back and forth so softly, it’s almost unnoticeable, but Gwendolyn can see it. She wants to hit him for acting upset now. He could have been upset for the past two and a half months, but he’s been missing in action. Sticking his dick in a woman half his age.
Fuck.
Gwendolyn looks away and closes her eyes. She bites her bottom lip. She’s confused and scared, and worst of all, disappointed. Not only did she have no idea her parents’ marriage was a sham, but now she’s the last person to know. Just like with everything else in their family.
Lila knows.
And she lied about it. She could have said. She could have told the truth. But she didn’t. And as mad as Gwendolyn wants to be, she’s not. She’s hurt. She’s sad and hurt and tired. So fucking tired.
“Gwendolyn?”
His voice breaks her out of her thoughts. The room is very warm, but the way his words come out reminds her of winter, of snow on dead leaves, of frosted windows and frozen breath. She finds herself shivering. “What?”
“She loves you so much. She has always loved you. Even when you hated her. She loved you. She loved everything about you.” He sniffles, wipes his arm under his nose, and pulls air in.
“She loves you, too, Dad.” Her voice is low and barely sounds like her. “She’s loved you forever.”
“I love her, too.” He finally looks at her. “Just because…”
“Because what?” She studies his red eyes behind his glasses, his grown-out scruff, his unkempt hair, and wonders how this man has fallen so far from the pedestal she had him on.
“She told me to do this.”
“To do what?”
“To not be around. She wanted…”
“What? Stop stopping.”
“She wanted to repair everything with you. With your relationship.” He shrugs and wipes his eyes. “I didn’t want to be gone all the time. I didn’t want to…but I did what she asked because she didn’t need me. She needed you.”
Gwendolyn is beside herself. Does he really think she believes him? “You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not. I really wish I was.” He leans back in the hospital chair he slid up to the bedside. “None of this has been because I wanted it.” He shakes his head as if recalling some memory which causes him to chuckle. “You know your mother. It’s her way or the highway.”
Gwendolyn can’t listen any longer as she stands and straightens her shorts and T-shirt. “You want me to believe this?”
“It’s the truth.”
“Well, I can’t believe it. So?”
“You can continue to hate me if you need to, Gwennie.” He shrugs. “I will never stop loving you.”
She lets the comment sit between them for a few beats before she rolls her eyes and leaves. The warm air is suffocating her. And as the truths continue to pile up, all she can do is sink further and further into their darkness.
Chapter Twenty
The first time Gwendolyn had to help her mom with a bath, she was two weeks into her second round of chemo. She was so weak from not being able to hold any food down. Even the Ensure drinks Dr. Wynn suggested weren’t working.
Every time since then, it has been a little easier in terms of knowing what to do and how to get her in and out of the tub. Seeing her mom’s body shrink and atrophy is not getting any easier, though. The amount of weight she’s lost in the past month isn’t good. Dr. Wynn made sure her week in the hospital was full of fatty foods and protein, protein, protein.
“Fattening me up for the slaughter,” her mom joked after she choked down another protein shake. Gwendolyn didn’t find the comment funny. At all.
She’s heavier now than before the hospital, which is a good thing. And since her body isn’t constantly being poisoned, she has been able to hold food down. Sort of. During the PET scan, the radiologists found a tumor along her medulla oblongata. Apparently, the mass is located right next to the area which controls vomiting. It’s small, according to Dr. Wynn, but she warned that it may grow, which will only make keeping food down harder. Of all the bodily functions Gwendolyn has to help clean up, vomit is her least favorite. Well, vomit and diarrhea. Actually, who is she trying to kid? They’re all bad.
