As they were filing out of the room, Lizbet heard her mother call out after them, “I know why you’re going out in the hall. You don’t want me to hear you talking about how much longer I have left to live.”
Dr. Dog led them down the hall a ways. He leaned against the wall, and the threesome gathered around him. “To answer your question, Brooke, it is very normal for someone with a brain tumor to experience a change in behavior.” He crossed his legs and folded his arms over her mother’s chart against his chest. “The diagnosis itself can cause emotional distress, and the hardship of treatment and uncertainty about the future can bring on depression. Your mother’s tumor is located in the brain stem. In her case the location itself can bring on emotional and behavioral changes.”
“In the interest of full disclosure,” Brooke said, “you should know that I came out to my parents on Tuesday. Obviously, I would have picked a better time to tell my mother I’m gay if I’d known about the brain tumor.”
“Situations like these are always difficult for parents regardless of their health,” the doctor said. “Some are more accepting than others.”
Brooke stared down at her feet. “At this rate she’ll never accept me. She’s more concerned about me being a lesbian than she is about her medical condition.”
Lizbet felt her father’s body shudder beside her. Her sister had her work cut out for her for sure.
“That’s understandable,” Dr. Dog said. “It’s easier for Lula to fixate on your problem than to face what lies ahead for her. All cancer patients are in denial at first.”
Lizbet’s skin broke out in goose bumps. “Do you know for certain it’s cancer?”
“Not officially, no. But the indicators are there.”
“When will you know for sure?” Lizbet asked.
“I’ll put some pressure on the Pathology Department. I should have the results by the end of the day. If you’d like, I can stop in on my way home around six to go over them.”
“I hate to ask you to go out of your way,” Phillip said.
Dr. Dog clapped her father on the shoulder. “You live next door, Phillip. It’s hardly out of my way. I’m happy to do it.”
“I . . . ,” her father started, and then looked at his daughters. “We’re mighty grateful for the special attention. Does this mean Lula can go home now?”
Dr. Dog flipped open his chart. “I’d like to monitor her for a while to make certain she’s stable before I release her. We’ll get her out of here sometime this afternoon.” He checked his watch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go check on a patient.”
The three Hornes stood staring at his back as he disappeared down the hall. “I should probably get to work,” Lizbet said finally. Heidi had told her she could take the day off, but as much as she felt like she needed to stay at the hospital, she couldn’t handle another afternoon of listening to her mother complain about her sister.
“You go.” Brooke nudged her with her elbow. “I’ll stay here with Mom and Dad.”
Her father cleared his throat. “We don’t need a babysitter. We’ll be fine here alone. Anyway, Brooke, your presence seems to agitate your mother. She needs to rest.”
“Fine. Then I’ll go to the house and wait for you there. I can help you get her settled.” Brooke turned her back on her father before he could argue and headed down the hall.
“I’ll see you at six.” Lizbet planted a kiss on her father’s cheek and took off after her sister. “You’re being awfully pushy, don’t you think?” she said when she caught up with her.
“Pushy is the only way I’m going to get my point across,” Brooke said as she exited the building through the sliding doors.
“What exactly is your point?” She had to walk fast to keep up with her.
“I’m not going anywhere. No matter how much they’d like to get rid of me.”
They arrived at Lula’s minivan, and Brooke rummaged through her bag for the keys. Lizbet had forgotten Brooke was driving their mother’s car. Did her sister even own a car in California? Would she drive it across the country when she moved?
“When are you starting your new job?” Lizbet asked.
Brooke located the key and unlocked the door. “The beginning of August. I was planning to turn in my notice on Monday. I’d like to work out my two weeks, but that all depends on what Dr. Dog tells us tonight. I can wrap things up from here if I need to. I have a legit reason. My boss will understand.” She opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat.
“Even if you’re quitting to work for another firm?”
“I didn’t find a new job because I’m unhappy with the one I have. I’m moving back home to be close to my family. Obviously, I would’ve transferred if they had an office here.”
She started to close the door, but Lizbet held it open. “Have you started looking for an apartment?”
Brooke jammed the key in the ignition. “We’re going to do that today since Mom doesn’t want me around. Sawyer offered to move my things from California. Her brother is flying out to help her. He can drive my car back for me.”
“I can’t believe you. Have you picked out what dress you’re going to wear to Mom’s funeral?” Lizbet asked, her eyes brimming with tears.
“Oh, honey, don’t cry. I’m just trying to be realistic about the situation. To be prepared.” Brooke got back out of the car. “Everything will be all right.” Brooke took her in her arms. “We’ll take it as it comes. That’s all we can do. You’re not alone in this. I told you that. And I meant it.”
Her sister’s scent was both familiar and strange. Lizbet couldn’t remember the last time their bodies had been so close. “Okay.”
Brooke rubbed her back. “Go on to work now. It’ll help get your mind off things. I’ll meet you back at the house at six.”
Lizbet held her sister at arm’s length. “Are you bringing Sawyer?”
Brooke’s face registered surprise. “I haven’t gotten that far. Do you think I should?”
“No and yes. Mom will freak, but Sawyer is good at asking the questions we don’t know to ask. She might actually provide a calming influence.”
Brooke let out a deep breath. “I’m not sure how calm it will be. But I’ll let Sawyer decide whether or not she wants to come.”
Lizbet dropped her sister’s arms. “Georgia is bringing dinner from the store. Why don’t I tell her to bring two casseroles and ask her and Dr. Dog to stay for dinner?”
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Lizzy. I’m not sure any of us will be up for a dinner party.”
“It won’t be a party. Duh.” The more Lizbet thought about it, the more her idea made sense. “We can keep it casual. We’ll set the food out in the kitchen, and everyone can eat wherever they want. I have a feeling the news won’t be good. Having Sawyer and the Murdaughs in the house might soften the blow.”
“Or start a nuclear war. But we’ll give it a shot.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Lula
As hard as she tried, Lula could not grab hold of a single thought floating around her mind. Had they scrambled her brain when they drilled a hole in her skull and plunged a needle deep inside the tumor for their sample? Her husband rested in the chair beside her, rushing to her aid every time she shifted in the bed. He needed to stop fussing over her and start doing something to make their daughter not gay. What a wimp. Namby-pamby, pudding and pie.
Go away! she screamed silently at the cancer voice inside her head. That’s my husband you’re talking about! The voice was growing bolder, determined to gain control of her mind. It wouldn’t be long before it drove her insane or snuffed out her light completely.
Struggling to sit up, she poked her finger at the nurse’s call button.
“What’re you doing?” Phillip shot up out of his chair. “I told you not to bother them. What do you need? Tell me, and I’ll get it for you.”
Lula had buzzed the nurses’ station half a dozen times in the past hour. She knew sh
e was being a pest, but she didn’t care.
When the nurse entered the room, she didn’t bother to hide her irritation. “What is it now, Mrs. Horne?”
The young woman irritated Lula with her perky ponytail and dazzling white smile. She obviously didn’t have a heinous disease growing in her pretty little head.
“I want you to take this thing out of my arm,” Lula said, picking at the tape that held her IV in place. “I’m going home.”
Nurse Kimberly approached the bed. “Don’t do that.” She brushed Lula’s hand aside and smoothed the tape back in place. “I can’t release you without the doctor’s permission.”
“Then call him on the phone,” Lula demanded. “Tell him I have a long laundry list of things to do before I die and I need to get on it.”
Kimberly’s expression softened. “I understand, hon. I will page him if you promise not to mess with your IV.”
Lula snorted. “I am not your hon. Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to use a term of endearment when addressing a woman old enough to be your mother?”
The nurse’s jaw tightened. “Yes ma’am. My apologies.” She turned her back on Lula and scurried out of the room.
Phillip, who was rooted to his spot beside the bed, parted his lips in a tentative smile. “She’ll be glad to get rid of you.”
“If that’s an attempt at humor, it’s not funny. You’ll all be rid of me soon enough.”
He gripped the bed railing. “I know you’re scared, Lula. We all are. But making everyone’s lives miserable isn’t helping anything.”
“Lucky for you, you won’t have to put up with my unpleasantness much longer.”
He stroked her leg beneath the blanket. “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? You’re already planning your funeral when we don’t even know if the tumor is malignant.”
She looked away from him, staring out the window at the pale, cloudless sky. “I don’t need a doctor to tell me what I already know, Phillip.”
The nurse returned, her rubber-soled shoes squishing against the tile floor. “Looks like you’re getting sprung. I’ll just take this out.” She removed the tape, and pressing a wad of gauze against the injection site, she slipped the needle out of Lula’s arm. She attached a strip of tape to the gauze. “Do you need help getting dressed?”
Lula swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I think I can manage. I’m not dead yet.”
Kimberly deposited the needle in the medical waste container. “In that case I’ll go see about getting your release papers signed.”
Lula went into the adjoining bathroom and changed into the clothes Phillip had brought to the hospital. She didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her from the mirror. Her eyes were sunken, and her skin was pale despite the weekend she’d spent lounging in the sun. She lowered herself to the closed toilet seat as she thought of Brooke and their time together on the beach, just the two of them catching up on the past three years. Why hadn’t Brooke mentioned she was gay? She’d had plenty of opportunity. The answer was simple. She knew I wouldn’t approve. If only she’d stayed in the closet a little while longer, I would have been able to rest in peace without knowing my daughter is a lesbian. But now I will spend eternity rolling over and over in my grave.
All the more reason to be cremated.
#
Brooke rushed out to the car to greet them as soon as they pulled into the driveway. She hurried around to the passenger side and held Lula’s arm for support while she climbed out of the car. Lula shrugged her off as she started to the house. “I’m not an invalid, you know. At least not yet. I can manage on my own.” But she stumbled and was grateful Brooke was by her side to keep her from falling. She caught a glimpse of her neglected garden on the way inside. Weeds had taken over the beds, and her glorious blooms were wilting in the summer’s heat. Chores needed tending—the laundry, the ironing, the dirty dishes Phillip had left in the sink—but she had only enough energy to climb the stairs to her bed. A week ago she’d tackled her housework with vigor. Now all she wanted to do was sleep.
It was six fifteen before she woke from her nap feeling less rested than she had beforehand. She tumbled out of bed and plodded across the room to the en suite bathroom. She needed a shower, but she felt too unsteady to risk it without help. How pathetic she couldn’t manage something as simple as bathing alone. She combed her greasy hair away from her face and brushed blush across her cheeks. Using the handrail for support, she edged her way downstairs and then followed voices to the Florida room in the back of the house where her daughters were talking with Brooke’s girlfriend. What was her name? She couldn’t remember. She didn’t remember her being so attractive, either. “Who invited her?”
“I thought—“ Brooke began.
“Actually, I’m the one who insisted Sawyer be here,” Lizbet said. “She’s a medical student. She can help us understand the biopsy results and make any decisions we need to make.”
“I already have a doctor, Lizbet. He’s been practicing medicine longer than she’s been alive.” Lula swept a hand in Sawyer’s direction. “There is no us or we in this situation. There is only me. I will decide how I want to live out my remaining days.”
“But, Mom!” Brooke hopped up off the sofa. “You—” A knock on the back door prevented her from continuing.
“That’ll be Georgia with dinner,” Lizbet said, and left the room to let her in.
Lula stared after her. “So we’re having a party now? What’re we celebrating, my untimely demise?”
“Mom, please,” Brooke said. “No one appreciates the death humor. For your information, Georgia offered to bring dinner. Since Dr. Murdaugh was coming anyway to go over the biopsy results, we asked them to eat with us. We’re keeping it casual. We’re not setting the table or anything like that.”
Lula’s voice quavered when she said, “You should’ve asked. I’m not in the mood for company.”
“Since when is Georgia company?” Brooke took Lula by the arm and led her to the chair next to Sawyer. “Sit down and rest while I get you some iced tea.”
Before Lula could object, Brooke rushed out of the room, leaving Sawyer and Lula staring at each other.
Sawyer folded her hands in her lap. “I understand if you want me to leave, Mrs. Horne. I can’t imagine how you must be feeling.”
Sitting so close, Lula was able to scrutinize the girl. She was poised and confident, dressed in white jeans and a sleeveless navy blouse with her dark bob brushing her bare shoulders. Under normal circumstances Lula thought she might approve of this girl. If she were anyone other than her daughter’s lover. Lula let out a deep sigh. “You might as well stay since you’re already here.”
Sawyer’s warm smile cast a radiant glow across her face. “Thank you.”
They sat in awkward silence until the others joined them a few minutes later. Based on their glum expressions, Lang had already broken the news. And the news wasn’t good. Ding-dong! The witch is dead! Or would be soon.
Georgia introduced herself to Brooke’s girlfriend. “I’m Georgia Murdaugh, next-door neighbor and friend. I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.”
The girl stood to greet her. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Sawyer Glover.”
Georgia turned to Lula. “I’m here for you, my friend. Whatever you need. We’ll get through this together,” she said, giving her a hug before sitting down in the chair opposite Lula.
Lula hated being the center of attention like this. She didn’t want their pity. She wanted them all, including her husband and daughters, to leave her alone and let her die in peace. She waited until Phillip and Lang had settled into nearby chairs before she said, “Give it to me straight, Lang. How long do I have?”
He laughed nervously into his hand. “I can always count on you not to beat around the bush, Lula.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his long legs. “As we suspected, the tumor is malignant.”
Although she’d been expecting it, hearing her death s
entence recited out loud filled her with dread all the way down to her core. She bit her lip and forced herself not to cry as Lang talked on about the classification and grade of her tumor. His tone changed from serious to somber when he spoke of her options, or lack thereof, for treatment of her brain stem glioma. In essence, her brain was cheese with mold growing on it—mold that was widespread and deeply rooted. Because of the location of the mold, slicing it off with a knife could ruin the cheese. They could try to remove some of the mold, to extend the life of the cheese, but the mold would eventually grow back.
She waited for Lang to stop talking. “So why not simply throw away the cheese now and be done with it?” Five sets of eyes simultaneously settled on her.
Lizbet was the first to speak. “I don’t understand, Mom. What cheese are you talking about?”
Lula lifted her fingers to the side of her head. “My brain is the cheese, and the cancer is the mold. What is the point in trying to save the cheese when it’s already gone bad?”
“That’s one way of looking at it,” Lang said. “But there are other factors to consider. There are treatments that can give the cheese a better quality of life for whatever time it has left.” He shook his head in response to the ridiculous statement he’d just made. “We’re not talking about cheese here, Lula. This is your brain. Your options may be limited, but you still have choices.”
“And what if I do nothing?”
“You will get very sick very quickly.” He rose out of his chair. “You need to carefully consider your options before you make a decision of this magnitude. We have clinical trials you can explore if that’s something that interests you. Talk to your family. Weigh your options. And call me anytime with questions. I’m right next door.”
Georgia got up to go with him, but Lizbet, who was sitting on the sofa next to her chair, tugged on her tunic and pulled her back down. “Please stay for dinner. Thanks to you, we have plenty of food. I really need you here.”
Lula stuck her finger in her ear to clear out the wax. Did Lizbet say she needed Georgia? Her youngest had never needed Lula for anything in her life. She’d never looked at her with such pleading eyes, like a toddler begging her mother for a chocolate chip cookie before dinner. Lizbet had always loved Georgia more than her. Now that Lula was leaving the picture, Georgia could adopt Lizbet as the daughter she’d never had.
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