by Autumn Grey
I slowly open my eyes and glance at the ceiling, gritting my teeth. When I feel brave enough to face my brother and my nemesis, one of the people I’d literally kill for, I let my head fall forward, my eyes meeting his which are filled with guilt. I need to tread carefully around Josh.
“Let’s talk about this later,” I say, squeezing my neck with one hand.
His jaw clenches. “You don’t get to feel sorry for me.”
I sigh. “I didn’t come back to sort out issues that happened a long time ago. I came here because Mom and Dad asked me to.”
And because I can’t stand the thought of losing you.
His mouth parts in surprise. Hurt crosses his features before he clenches his jaw and conceals it carefully.
“Nor wrote to me too.”
His shoulders slump forward and relief spreads across his face. “So you know about the girls.”
I rub by jaw with my hand and nod.
“Have you met them yet?”
“No.”
His eyes widen in surprise. “Don’t you want—”
My mouth opens and then closes when the words refuse to come out. I lift my hands and sign, “I want to. Jesus. I want to meet them so fucking bad, but that can wait.” I take a deep breath and admit, “I needed to see you first. You are more important right now.”
His expression softens and tears fill his eyes. “They are pretty special.”
I remember the picture in my pocket, warming my skin and smile. “I know.”
We don’t say anything for a few seconds. My head is a bit clearer after my admission. I want to tell him I missed him. I miss who we were.
I’m going to tell him. He needs to know before it’s too late.
“Is Megs still around?” I ask, referring to Nor’s childhood best friend.
I can’t stop thinking of Nor. The stress is getting to her. She seems older than her twenty-nine years. When was the last time she left the hospital or has eaten anything? She needs a break from this place before this situation eats her whole. I might be angry, furious even, about the things that happened in our past, but that doesn’t mean I will be a dick and watch her suffer. No one deserves this.
Josh’s face clouds in confusion, probably wondering where I’m going with this. He nods.
“Do you have her number?”
He jerks his chin toward the bedside stand. I lean forward, open the drawer and take out his phone. Ignoring the weight of his stare, I scroll through the contact list. Nor wouldn’t know when to quit even when her own exhaustion was staring her in the eye. She has always been the kind of person who, when she gives, she throws her entire fucking life into something. A part of me appreciates that. I’m not certain how big that part is, because I’m still trying to sort out the catastrophic mess of emotions storming inside my chest.
Nonetheless, it doesn’t stop a smile from touching my lips.
That’s Nor, going to great lengths to make sure everyone was comfortable.
I see movement in the corner of my eye and look up to see Josh waving his hand to catch my attention. “You’re smiling.”
I shut it down fast and continue to scroll through his phone. When I find the number, I quickly type a text to Megs then hit send. I return the phone back inside the drawer.
I’m dying to ask him what type of cancer he has. But somehow I feel like if I voice the question, it kind of confirms that he is on death’s door and that thought punches me hard in my gut.
I run a hand through my hair, sliding it down to rub my neck. I feel a dull headache forming in the back of my head, a product of the short night’s sleep and long drive finally sinking in. That and this situation.
I make my way to the other side of the bed and lower myself onto the chair, drop my head in my hands, and blink back the tears. Fuck. I shouldn’t display that kind of weakness in front of him. He needs a strong support system of family and friends surrounding him. Bawling my eyes out won’t help shit.
He touches my arm and I lift my head to meet his steady gaze. Isn’t he terrified of dying? I haven’t seen fear in his eyes since he woke up. He has accepted this. Accepted that he is going to die.
“How can you look so unaffected by this?” I ask almost angrily. I’m not sure who I’m angry at. Cancer, Josh or me. Maybe all of them.
He shrugs. “I knew the end was coming. It was just a matter of time.”
“When did you realize you had. . .you were sick?” I ask
“Six years ago. My pancreas finally flipped a finger at me. I’m on stage four.” He pauses. Inhales deeply. “The first doctor who diagnosed me said I had only a few months left to live. I guess I was too stubborn to die.” He grins.
He fucking grins.
Jesus. I want to kick something.
I shake my head, horrified and in awe of my brother. He should be scared. Instead, he’s fearless, even when death is waiting, counting the days, hours, minutes, or even seconds to claim his soul.
“Do Mom and Dad know you came home?”
I shake my head, taking in the worried look on his face. I have no idea how to interpret it, so I ask, “Why?”
His expression clears and he grins. “They will freak out when they see you, especially Mom.” He eyes my arms and neck where the tattoos are showing.
“I’m not twelve,” I retort.
He laughs, his arm wrapped around his middle as if to support his body from bursting open. “I bet Mom will have something to say about that.”
I had most of the tattoos done when I got to New York after leaving my home. Each word and every drawing on my skin was a memory. A reminder of what I lost. What I wanted to remember.
The mirth on his face vanishes, replaced by a somber look. His narrow chest expands as he takes in a long, deep breath. “I don’t have a lot of time left. I need you to do something for me.”
I should give him the respite he craves, given the desperate look on his face, but my mind and mouth have other plans. Before I can control the words burning my tongue, words I’ve asked myself a million times rush out. “Why, Josh? Why should I do you a favor, when you took what was mine? You ripped my life out from under me.” I slow down and take deep breaths. “Give me a good reason why I should, Josh.”
He doesn’t look fazed by the words.
“Because Nor needs you, she’s always needed you and she’ll still need you long after I am gone. Please, Cole.”
I open my mouth to talk but I pause, too worked up to speak. I grunt, frustrated.
Damn stupid words.
Heaving out a sigh, I raise my hands and I sign, “Do you love her?”
“Irrevocably,” he says, his eyes fixed on mine and I see sincerity shining through them, but there’s something else too.
Hopelessness.
Sadness.
Acceptance.
I exhale, my heart twisting hard in my chest so damn hard, I fear it might break free from its confines.
The next question causes my hands to shake as I raise them to sign. This is something I’ve wondered about so many times. “Does she love you?”
He drags a hand over his bald head, the look on his face bleak and says, “Not as much as I love her. Like I’ve always loved her.”
I rip my gaze from his and frown down at my hands, trying to gain control of my wayward emotions. I’d promised myself during the drive home I’d play it cool until I got a handle on the situation.
Yeah, right. Like that would ever happen. Cool is a foreign emotion to me, especially when it comes to Nor. Thank God, Josh puts me out of my misery when he touches my arm.
“Nor took it very hard after what happened. She went back to self-harming, but she got better again with the help of a therapist. Having Cora and Joce also helped her a lot. She has never loved me like she loved you. Like she still loves you.”
And just like that, pandemonium breaks out inside my head at his declaration.
She still loves me.
What kind of shit did that asshole of a
father put them through? I have a clue but I have a feeling there’s more. I open my mouth to ask him but he screws up his face in a grimace as he shifts his body on the bed.
HIS FACE IS COVERED IN a sheen of sweat and his lips are pulled tight. His fingers are shaking as if he is going through a withdrawal.
“Shit. I hate this part.”
Panic slams my chest. I shoot up from the chair and rush to his side . “What’s wrong? Can I do anything? Call the nurse?”
He reaches for the remote control on his bed and presses the nurse button. “Pain. So fucking much.”
Why didn’t I notice this? I’m wrapped up in my own issues, too selfish to notice he’s hurting.
“What can I do?” I ask again, my eyes blurry with tears.
He grins, but the smile resembles a frown instead. “Get me a unicorn. And fairy dust.” His speech is much slower now. He sinks lower into the bed and closes his eyes. “If I’m leaving this world, I want to ride a unicorn. Cora believes unicorns are the best thing since Barbie dolls.”
Those words jolt a fierce emotion in me, reminding me that I’ve missed nine years of my girls’ lives.
“She sounds cool as shit,” I say.
“They. . .” he breaths through his mouth. “They both are. Cora reminds me so much of you.”
Before I can follow up on that comment, a nurse with a head full of short dark curls appears on the edge of my vision, dismantling my thoughts. She’s holding a syringe in one hand. A cold shiver slithers down my spine and sweat breaks out on my forehead. I fucking hate syringes. After being poked and prodded when I was five, I developed a healthy abhorrence toward that shit.
She halts on the other side on the bed and my body relaxes, grateful for the distance between me and the needle. She starts working on the IV on Josh’s arm, oblivious of my current state. Her mouth moves but I can’t understand what she says. She raises her head to look at me.
“I’m nurse Peterson.” She points at the name badge on her chest.
“Sorry. I didn’t get what you said before. I’m Cole. Josh’s brother.”
Her cheeks flush. “Sorry—”
I raise my hand up to stop her. “No harm done. Just make the pain go away.” I point to Josh with my chin.
She nods.
When she is done, she straightens and adjusts the sheets around Josh.
“How long does it take before he needs another dose?”
She purses her lips. “Depends on the patient and how much pain he or she has.” She looks at my brother and smiles, then faces me. “Your brother is stubborn. We suggested a way for him to administer the drug himself but he refused.”
She laughs when Josh winks at her. “He’s a flirt this one.” She shakes her head, turns and leaves.
I’ve never seen anyone in the throes of pain like Josh had been a few minutes ago. Is this what Nor has been facing everyday for the past six years? Watching him, knowing the only thing that can help him is medication?
Christ. This shit is scary.
“It’s not so bad, you know.”
I gape at him. “You’re kidding me, right?”
Josh shrugs. “Some days are worse than others. I’m thankful I’ve gotten this far instead of those measly months the doctor predicted at first.” He settles back on the pillows and steeples his fingers on top of his stomach on the sheet. “Dude, I asked Nor to go out and choose the most fucking beautiful coffin she can find. Something fit for this prince. She chose a badass coffin.” His eyes slip shut, a look of pure bliss on his face. The medication must have taken full effect.
I stare at him. Open my mouth and snap it shut. Open it again.
Did that shit just spout out of his mouth? I’m fighting fucking hard not to bawl and he’s talking about coffins as if he is chatting about the goddamned tuxedo he’ll wear to a party.
Finally, I blink. This is typical Josh. I feel my laughter erupt from my gut and out of my mouth. It feels fucking amazing to laugh after the past forty-eight hours.
His lids snap open and he starts laughing too.
My mind momentarily drifts to Nor and the words he told me before, unable to let them go. According to Josh, Nor didn’t love him as much as he loved her, yet, according to him, she has been living in the hospital, taking care of him.
I’m driving myself insane with these thoughts.
Cool air brushes the back of my neck alerting me that someone entered the room. I shift around and come face to face with Megs. Her face splits into a wide grin the moment our gazes lock.
“Hey.” She waves, striding toward me with her arms outstretched. Leaving my chair, I start toward her and meet her in the middle of the room.
Megs is beautiful. Five foot four, brown eyes, brown skin and a lot of curves. The white dress she’s wearing does nothing to hide them. She knows how to carry her height and body. She hasn’t changed much. Simon told me she’s going through a divorce. I have a feeling he kept tabs on her even after they broke up.
She eyes me up and down. “It’s good to see you, Cole,” she says while signing. Her movements are still stilted, but she’s gotten better at it since the last time I saw her.
My lips twitch. “I see you finally got the hang of ASL.”
She laughs. “Yes, I did. I see you got inked. Damn, you look scary. And hot.” Her gaze drifts to the bed then back to me. Her face soft and sad, her loss so clear on her face. She faces me again. “How is he?”
I shake my head. “Weak. I need to speak to the doc.”
Her gaze roams around the room, before turning back to me. “Nor?”
“She is at the chapel.”
Megs nods, and shifts on her feet, biting her bottom lip. “When did you arrive?”
“About an hour ago.” I rub my neck. I’m not good at small talk so I get right to the point. “Could you take Nor away from here at least for a few hours.”
She appraises me as she tugs the strap of her handbag over her shoulder, and nods, smiling softly. “Sure. Catch up later?”
“You bet.” I dig my phone out of my pocket. “I’ll give you my number, in case you need to call me.”
She nods, handing me her phone.
After exchanging our contacts, she turns to leave but stops and turns around to look at me. “It’s really good to see you. I hope we’ll have some time to catch up.”
I don’t respond to that. I know if I do, I might end up asking her what went down nine years ago, because, obviously, she is still Nor’s best friend. She definitely knows.
But this is not her shit to tell.
“Simon will be here in a couple of days,” I tell her.
She seems frozen by the news for a few seconds. Then she tucks a strand of black hair behind her ear with shaking fingers.
“When?”
“Five days. Give or take.”
“Awesome,” she says and grimaces. She spins around and hurries out the door.
Just as I’m about to leave the room to search for coffee, a tall man with graying hair and a white lab coat walks in the room.
His gaze moves to my brother and then back to me. My stomach feels like it’s made of concrete as I watch him halt in front of me. He sticks his hand out in greeting and speaks, but his lips move fast I can’t read them. I clasp his outstretched hand then pull mine back.
“Could you please speak a bit slower?” I ask, shoving my hands inside my pants pockets.
He blinks at me in confusion.
“Unless you know ASL,” I add, pointing to my ears.
All right, Cole. Stop being a smartass.
Understanding dawns in his eyes. He presses a fist against his mouth and coughs in obvious discomfort. I’ve seen this many times. The moment someone realizes I’m deaf, they get all nervous and shit. I stopped taking offense years ago.
“I’m Dr Heinemann. Are you family?”
I nod. “Cole Holloway. His younger brother.”
“Can we talk outside?” He jerks his thumb toward the door.
&
nbsp; I nod curtly and glance at the bed, before heading for the door, without checking if Dr Heinemann is following me but I feel his presence on my back. My body has learned how to recognize people around me, sense their objectives. I turn to face him. He indicates with his hand in the direction down the hallway urging me to follow him. I do, and we end up in a well-lit office.
I sit on the offered seat and lean forward watching as he rounds his desk and settles on the leather swivel chair across from me. My gaze strays around the room long enough to take in shelves filled to the brim with books and the stethoscope on his desk before focusing on him again. He leans forward, elbows propped on the hard wood surface, and takes a deep breath. His eyes are studying the folder in front of him. His chest rises on a deep inhale and he raises his ice-blue eyes to mine. Steeling myself, I nod for him to continue.
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER, I walk out of Dr Heinemann’s office. My head heavy and my thoughts beating against each other. He was honest enough to tell me the truth when I asked him to lay it on me. Josh might not even make it the few weeks they predicted. He’s too far gone. Chemo is no longer an option. He threw around a whole lot of medical jargon, and by the time I finally took my first deep breath, I was lightheaded. What I know now is, the cancer is no longer contained in his pancreas. The only thing being done now is to make sure he is comfortable and the pain is handled with medication. He is under hospice care to ease him into the goddamn greedy hands of death.
I stop in front of Josh’s room. My head’s pounding. My chest feels like a fucking void and nothing I can do at the moment will fill it.
I can’t face my brother looking like this. Feeling like this.
I stalk down the hallway in search of the bathrooms. Just as I am about to follow the instructions indicating where they are, someone grabs my shoulder, spinning me around. My body tenses, hand bunched into a fist, raised. This became a knee-jerk reaction during my time in prison. You learned to be fast or someone else would be faster than you.
I blink through my hazy stare and finally focus on the familiar faces in front of me. Time stands still as I stare at my parents, unable to move. Dad has more gray hair than the last time I saw him, his eyes bracketed with crow’s feet. Mom’s hair is short. She looks thinner and has bags under her eyes.
