by Erin Zak
“Tore right through it.”
Dr. Wynn tilts her head.
“I’m sorry.” Gwendolyn sighs. “I’m not okay. You’re right.”
“Walk me to my car.” Dr. Wynn steps over the threshold, allowing Gwendolyn to exit before she closes the door. They walk together across the porch and down the steps before Dr. Wynn stops. She’s holding her medical bag in front of her, but she’s wearing a tank top, jeans, and tennis shoes. She’s dressed far too casually to look so professional, but Gwendolyn is hanging on every second of silence, waiting to hear her diagnosis because it’s been far too long since she’s talked to anyone about her feelings. “I know you had a rough relationship with her before all of this.”
Gwendolyn nods, a vocal response escaping her.
“You are allowed to be a mess. You are allowed to feel things. Anger, sadness, fear. All of those things.”
Another nod. So verbose, Gwen.
“Everything happens for a reason.” Dr. Wynn shrugs. “I know it may not help, but it is very true.”
“I know,” she finally says, but it’s a whisper.
“Your mother loves you very much. We’ve spoken at great length about you.” Dr. Wynn smiles. “You may not feel it, but she’s very proud of everything you’ve done.” She turns, her ponytail swings, and she continues walking. Gwendolyn follows like a lost puppy. “If you need to talk, would you please let me know?” She unlocks the car with the remote and opens the passenger door. She tosses the case inside, closes the door, and turns. “Your mental health is as important as her physical health. Don’t forget that.”
“I wish you would have said that three months ago.”
Dr. Wynn laughs. “I’m sorry. I was preoccupied with my patient.” The comment is a good burn. She winks, and Gwendolyn joins in the laughter.
“Good point.”
“You weren’t necessarily approachable to begin with” She tilts her head. There’s something about this exchange. “If you ever want to…I don’t know, get a drink? I’m here for you. Okay?”
“Thank you,” Gwendolyn says softly.
Dr. Wynn moves around the car, opens the driver’s door, and before she climbs in, she makes eye contact. “I know what you’re going through.”
* * *
Gwendolyn takes an hour and calls as many people as she can think of to come visit since it’s Sunday and will be more convenient. Most people take the hint and rush over.
Sabine speeds in from Chicago. She stays most of the day, sitting for as long as she can handle it. She cries numerous times, which makes Gwendolyn feel horrible for making fun of her. She’s a wonderful woman and a great addition to her mom’s life. All the high school teachers show up, even the principal, Mrs. Hammond, who remembers Gwendolyn from when she took United States History and Government with her before she broke through the glass ceiling a few years ago. The teachers ask how Gwendolyn’s career is going, which is not fun to answer, but she survives. She keeps reminding herself things can be a lot worse.
The volleyball girls come as well. They’re all so talkative, going over the last match and significant plays. Her mom is engaged, alert, and it’s so much fun to watch. She looks good. Gwendolyn decides halfway through the morning to just go with it. Stop thinking about the fact that a bad day is lurking around the corner. She lets the good day sink in and joins in the conversation.
Miranda and Ella are their same animated selves. Joleen sits next to her mom and holds her hand, a typical Joleen move. Rylee is quiet but contributes and answers as many questions as her mom can ask. Hildy is, well, Hildy, and barely says a word. Stacy is normal, as well, with too much energy and her boisterous laugh. Courtney is the only one who isn’t herself, but she pulls Gwendolyn aside and apologizes for having a hard time dealing with things. Gwendolyn hugs her, tells her she understands better than she can ever imagine, and makes sure she knows it’s okay to not be okay.
The girls stay about two hours, and her mom has never looked happier. Gwendolyn made sure to ask Lila to come, too.
She hasn’t arrived.
And Gwendolyn is a mess wondering when she’ll get there. And when she does, will Gwendolyn apologize? Will she be too nervous? Probably. Will she chicken out and not say anything? More than likely. Confrontation has never been something she enjoys, unless it’s scripted. And even then, she struggles.
The only thing keeping her mind off Lila is her father, who has been helpful, which is keeping her sanity together. The weight has lifted from her shoulders with his help, and the relief is immeasurable. If only she could point it out to him without causing an argument.
The house is finally quiet when the home hospice nurse arrives. She’s very kind, even more so than the home health nurse. She’s at least ten years older, with gray hair, glasses, and a nursing hat. Gwendolyn’s first thought is how long it’s been since she’s seen a nurse with an actual hat, but it seems fitting. Her name is Maryann, and she’s incredibly thorough in her explanations. The whole scene is odd, considering Gwendolyn’s mom has been so awake and alert the entire day, like they’re jumping the gun and don’t really need all this.
When Maryann launches into the process the body will go through, her father has to leave. She knew it was going to push him over the edge. She hears him puttering around in the kitchen.
“He’s not handling things well, I take it?” Maryann asks when she starts to put away the items from her medical bag.
“No. Yes? I don’t know.” Gwendolyn smiles. “I don’t even know if I’m handling things well. What’s the gauge?”
Maryann chuckles as she slides her bifocals up the bridge of her nose. “Oh, dear, I’d love to say not breaking down, but a breakdown is needed and wanted at this stage. Maybe the lack of one is a good indicator?”
“He hasn’t had one yet.” She nods. “I’ve had a few.”
“Well, prepare yourself for one from him.” She clicks the clasp closed on her bag. “And probably a couple more from yourself.”
“Great.”
Maryann slips the bag over her shoulder. “I’ll be back in the morning for vitals and rounds. I can stay tomorrow for as long as you need me.” She moves toward the doorway and glances over her shoulder. “You know today is a fluke.”
“I know.” Gwendolyn sighs. “Tonight is going to be hard.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” She holds out a business card. “Please call if anything…happens.” The tone of her voice at the end of her sentence almost causes one of the aforementioned breakdowns. Thankfully, Gwendolyn heads it off at the pass, takes the business card, and ushers Maryann from the room and out of the house. She watches her climb into her Prius with a VNA Hospice magnet on the side. The entire neighborhood knows now. If they didn’t already.
Gwendolyn meanders into the kitchen. She feels lost, doesn’t know what to do with her time. Food isn’t an option for her mom since she has, for all intents and purposes, stopped eating. Nothing tastes good, and the thrush in her mouth since the end of radiation has, according to her, made things taste even worse.
There are moments when Gwendolyn has this intense desire to know exactly the amount of pain her mom is going through. What does she mean everything tastes metallic? When she says it feels as if someone is stabbing her in the back, what does it feel like? Of course, Gwendolyn can imagine. But she has this sick desire that makes her want to completely understand. She hates herself a little for it because she should be thrilled that she has no idea what sort of hell her mom is living in. And yet…
“You’re so good with her, Gwen,” her father says when she pulls out a chair at the breakfast nook.
She sits, rests her head in her hands, completely spent from stress, lack of sleep, and barely eating, and she shrugs. “I don’t know how. There’s no way a person is born with this.”
The chair next to her is pulled out, and she feels him sit. His arm is around her shoulders, and he pulls her toward him. She lets it happen. The olive branch. She hopes he realizes it so
she doesn’t have to explain. “Born with what?” His voice is a whisper, and his breath smells of too much coffee and not enough mints.
“The instinct to care for people when they’re dying.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He kisses the top of her head, breathing into her scalp. “Every species understands the circle of life to some extent.” His voice is muffled by her hair, but she can feel him shake, finally letting emotion happen.
“Dad…”
“You know, I love your mother so much. I know you don’t understand. I know you think…” He stops pressing his face against her hair. “I have always loved her. I don’t know what else to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything else, Daddy.” The sun is starting to set on the best day her mom has had in a very long time. The late August air is catching the sun’s last rays in the most wonderful of ways, and for the first time in a while, she doesn’t hate her father.
A throat clears, and the noise startles them both. When they turn, Gwendolyn’s heart leaps into her throat.
“You came.”
“Of course, I did.” Lila’s smile is genuine, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m going to sit with her. Okay?”
Gwendolyn nods, and her father says, “Sounds good, honey.”
In her black yoga pants and University of Chicago sweatshirt, she’s a sight for sore eyes, and Gwendolyn aches to run to her, to apologize, to wrap her arms around her, smell her skin and hair, and let the wave of calm she brings with her wash over her entire body and soul.
Gwendolyn offers a smile, another olive branch, hopefully the last, and waits for Lila’s reaction. Lila’s chin dips the smallest of amounts before she tilts her head and rolls her lips together. There’s a hint of a smile now. The gesture isn’t much, but it’s a start, before she turns to the living room turned hospital.
Gwendolyn sighs when she swivels back and stares out the window. Her father stands, opening cupboards, the freezer, until he’s back beside her. He pours his prized Journeyman Featherbone bourbon whiskey into two tumblers and slides one over. He lifts his to the heavens, then to her, before he takes a long swallow. He breathes in sharply through clenched teeth and blows the air out in a low whistle.
“My favorite whiskey.” He’s not proud. He is sad. Sad to be drinking something he saves for a special occasion as a companion to the love of his life on the doorstep of death. “Drink. Don’t make me waste it.”
She does as she’s told, following the same toast he did, but before she sips, she sticks her nose into the glass and breathes in the sweet caramel aroma. She mumbles, “What the hell,” before she takes a decent drink. The dark liquor burns on its way down. The pain is good, not at all like the pain her mother has been experiencing, and she finds herself once again wishing for one second of reckoning.
“Will you promise me something?”
She looks at his profile. There have been numerous times when it’s hit her how much she resembles her mom. But now? Sitting next to her father in one of his most honest moments, she’s happy to say she picked up some of his traits. He’s a decent looking man, and if he wasn’t such a skeez with no ability to keep it in his pants, she’d be happy. Alas, he is all of those things and more. Promises to her mom will one day come back to haunt her, she is sure, but for now, she swallows the disdain with another sip of whiskey. “I’m sure it wouldn’t stop you if I told you I only make promises to my dying mom.”
He tilts his head as he lifts the whiskey. “Touché.” He sips before he glances at her. “Promise me you’ll stay until this volleyball season is over.”
Absolutely not what she thought he was going to say. “Seriously?”
“Yes.” He turns his tumbler on the table, the sound of the glass on the reclaimed wood almost deafening in the quiet room. “She would want you here. For the girls.”
“They have Lila.”
He looks over, his eyes incredibly sad behind his glasses. “Lila needs you, too.” He glances back at the alcohol as he pours more. “And so do I.”
“Dad…”
“Promise me.”
She sighs. “Okay.” She pushes her glass closer. He takes the hint and gives her a two-finger pour. “I promise.” She lifts her glass toward him, and a smile she hasn’t seen in quite some time appears on his lips as he clinks their glasses. “But you also have to promise me something.”
He turns, squaring his shoulders with her. “Anything.”
“Wait to remarry. Don’t do it as soon as you think you need to…please.”
“Gwen—”
“Dad, please. I don’t know if…” She looks at her hands. She hasn’t had a manicure in months, and the wear and tear that playing volleyball has had on her nails is crazy considering how nice they looked when she arrived. “I could barely handle Mom when I came home this time. I didn’t want to, and honestly, I almost didn’t. And now? Now I’m regretting every shitty, selfish moment I could have been spending with her instead, when I chose to hate her for something she didn’t understand.” She looks up at him. “Please, promise me.”
“I will never get remarried, Gwen.” He wraps his hand around her forearm. “I have only ever loved your mother. I wish you could see that.”
“Dad, it’s…it’s okay.”
“I promise you, Gwendolyn. I promise.”
“Thank you.” Her words come out as a whisper as she leans back to admire the last few seconds of the setting sun. Her heart is heavy, but her brain has unloaded a little baggage. That is, of course, until she remembers Lila is with her mom right now.
Chapter Twenty-two
“Lila, my love, you made it.”
Lila smiles as she scoots over a more comfortable chair so she can sit as close as possible to the bed. She pulls out a crossword puzzle and smiles. “Feel like going a round or two?”
Carol’s face lights up. “I would love it. Exercise this brain a few more times before…”
Lila glances at the look of regret on her face. “Before you go to bed. That’s all.” She’s quick on her feet. A trait she’s always been proud of but never more than in the moment when Carol’s face loses the regret and is filled with relief.
“Exactly. Bed.”
“Right.” Lila winks before she picks a puzzle. “Okay, one across, beachcomber’s find.”
“Shell.”
“Or conch?”
“One down?”
“Sonic the Hedgehog game company?”
“SEGA. That’s easy.” Carol smiles. “Did you pick an easy one for my aging brain?”
Lila gasps. “I would never.”
“Good.” Carol waves a hand. “Can you open those curtains? I want to see the sunset.”
Lila springs up and rushes to the curtains. Something about the tone of Carol’s voice makes her feel as if opening the curtains is the most important thing she’ll do for the rest of her life. She flings the material back from the large bay window, revealing the beginning of the sunset. She breathes deep and reminds herself to stay strong.
“I wish I could have seen the sunset at the dunes one last time.”
Stay strong, Lila. For Christ’s sake, stay strong. The way Carol’s voice wraps around the words, though…She glances over her shoulder and shrugs. “We’ll go tomorrow.” She knows it isn’t possible. The trek alone would kill Carol if the cancer wasn’t beating it to the punch. But the idea is what seems to matter more than anything.
Carol doesn’t seem convinced at all, but she still smiles, still chuckles, and still offers a nod. The promise of possibility is what keeps them all going, but Carol more than anyone. “Tomorrow. Yes.” Carol sighs. “Maybe we could pack a picnic like we used to? Do you remember those days?”
“I do.” She heads back to the chair. “When you’d pack a cooler with snacks and a bottle of wine for you, and you’d make me drive home. How could I forget?”
Carol laughs. God, the laugh sounds so wonderful. Light and airy. How can the laugh be so full of life when
she so clearly isn’t? “You never forget a thing, do you?”
“I do not.” Lila leans forward after she sits and takes her hand. “I know I’ve said it a thousand times before but thank you…for being there when I needed you.”
“Oh, please. I should be thanking you.” Her gaze is on the window now, a faraway look. “You helped me see the errors of my ways. Maybe a few years too late, but—”
“Better late than never.”
“Exactly.” She breathes deep, her chest rising, falling slowly. “You have been an amazing addition to my family.” She smiles. “I’m glad you let me be a mom to you.”
“Are you trying to make me cry?”
“Yes.” She chuckles. “Is it working?”
Lila cannot describe the difference in her demeanor from yesterday to today. She’s alert and happy and hasn’t coughed or needed a nap. “Sort of, yes. Let’s keep going.” She picks up the crossword. “Sewer line penetrator, perhaps. Eight letters.”
“Tree root.” Carol rolls her eyes. “We’ve done this one before.”
Lila chuckles. “I swear we haven’t.”
“Mm-hmm.” She places her hand on the book. “Will you do something for me?”
“Of course. What is it? Do you need something?” Her concern has never been so genuine in her entire life.
“You’re going to need to take care of Gwen…she’s going to be a mess when this happens.”
The ache inside Lila’s throat makes her clench her fists. She forces herself to swallow the large lump lodged right above her thyroid. “What?”
“Lila, my love, she needs you. She needs you far more than I think she ever expected.”
“But—”
“Stop. Please. Do it. For me?”
Lila nods. Even though every bone in her body has the urge to scream that she’d love to, except Gwendolyn has barely spoken to her in the past two weeks, and goddammit, it’s been so very hard going through all of this alone. “Okay.”
“You love her.”
Lila closes her eyes.
“I know you do.”
