Worth The Wait

by Joey W. Hill

  He had the pressure cuffs on both his legs to prevent blood clots, and an IV in his arm and neck. They made him feel tied down, antsy, but he pushed that away. Another temporary condition only.

  A glance at the clock, the light through the blinds, and a somewhat muzzy recalculation of the passage of time told him it was close to daybreak. He guessed it was early morning rounds, based on the sounds of rolling carts, beeps and murmurs, and the movement of nurses up and down the hall in their squishy shoes.

  The recliner was empty, but the blanket wasn't yet folded, also confirming the early morning hour. At the sound of a door opening, he turned his head and saw Julie coming out of the bathroom.

  She was a welcome sight, and a charming one, in pajama bottoms with kittens printed all over them. Her soft, stretched vee-neck T-shirt made him want to touch her generously wobbling breasts. Since getting erect with an installed catheter was not a good plan, he forced his thoughts elsewhere.

  He lifted a hand, drawing her attention. "Hey there." His voice was thick, unused, and he cleared it as she beamed like the sun.

  She immediately came to his side and closed both her hands about one of his. "Welcome back."

  Before the surgery, there'd been some fear and tension in her expression, despite her best efforts to conceal it. She didn't have much of a poker face, his love. But he was glad for it, because the range of emotions he read now were heartening. She was more relaxed, and very happy to see him.

  He knew the surgery had gone well, because he remembered Dr. Pindar discussing it with him in post-op. However, typical for anesthesia, things that had seemed clear then had turned into a dreamlike haze. He'd have to ask Julie or Betty for a recap. But he'd retained the most important thing. Step One was a success.

  Maybe they all knew it was the easiest step against what might be ahead, but he'd take it as a good sign. He was going to let Julie's optimism bolster him. Though he'd possessed a will of iron and enough self-discipline to direct an army battalion his entire life, he hadn't always been optimistic. Just stubborn. For her, he wanted to be optimistic.

  "So..." She gave him an mischievous look, drawing a chair close to the bed. "Since you have a gay man's kidney, are you having any urges to fulfill a couple of my guy-on-guy fantasies?"

  He chuckled, and winced. Her eyes darkened and she placed her hands on his torso as if she could soothe away the pain. "That could backfire," he advised her. "What if having a gay man's kidney makes me want to be gay?"

  "Based on how you were looking at my breasts just now, I think I'm safe."

  "Caught that, did you?"

  "I think you'll be ogling my breasts when you're ninety. And did I thank you for that?"

  He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed it with decent accuracy. "I feel like I have fur in my mouth. Can I have something to drink?"

  "The nurse said not at first. We can use these wet swabs on your lips and inside your mouth if it feels dry, but not even ice chips until the doctor gives the okay."

  "Nazis."

  "I know, right? They say it's for your own good, but I think the Inquisitors said the same thing when they were racking heretics."

  He smiled, despite the discomfort of dry lips. "I missed you, love."

  "I was here the whole time." Her fingers tightened on his, but her eyes shone with care and love. It was a good feeling to be basking in that light. "Oh, here, let's do the spirometer thing and get it over with. She told me to push it on you like a drug dealer coaxing six-year-olds to do crack as soon as you surfaced."

  He remembered the nurse walking him through it, but he let Julie show him again, because it meant she curled her fingers around his hands and caressed his face as he brought the mouthpiece to his lips. When he sat the device down, he laid his head back on the pillow, feeling lightheaded.

  "Julie?" At the light rap on the door, he opened his eyes. An older woman he didn't know but was pretty sure was Thomas's mother, based on similarities in their facial features, peered around the panel. "Marcus just relieved me and I wanted to see--oh." She startled when she realized Des's eyes were on her, and she smiled, a partly nervous, partly pleased and anticipatory look. "I'm so sorry."

  "It's all right. I'm awake."

  "So I see." She smiled more warmly. "I'm Elaine."

  "I figured." Des cleared his throat, feeling ridiculously awkward. Elaine hadn't expected he'd be conscious, though now that he was, she looked eager to stay. But he could also tell she was struggling to not seem too eager and spook him. If he wasn't ready to talk, he expected she'd go away without offense, but he didn't know what he was ready for.

  Julie filled in the sudden silence in her comfortable way, bless her.

  "You talked Marcus into going back to the hotel?" she said to Elaine. She included him in the talk with the angle of her body, still sitting on the bed, but she spoke in that way people did around a recovering patient who might not yet be up to talking.

  "Oh, I'm sure I didn't, though he let me believe that." Elaine offered a self-conscious chuckle. She wore dark slacks with a blue tunic top over it that pinned at the hip, accentuating a trim figure. Her dyed ebony hair was long but pulled back in a sleek twist. Her hazel eyes had a touch of blue-grey to them when she turned her head toward the light. Des wondered if she looked like his mother. Since Thomas had been cued into his parentage by comparing Des's looks to his aunt, not his mother, Des guessed that Elaine and Christine had drawn from different gene pools within the same family.

  "He was probably in the cafeteria the past few hours to catch up on his work emails and texts," Elaine continued. Her Southern accent was country rural, soft and pleasing. "Staying as close as he can without making me think he doesn't trust me to watch over my own son. I hope he took a little nap down there, though, because I don't think he got much sleep. Thomas woke up about an hour ago."

  "Des has only been up a few minutes. I'll go tell the nurse he's awake. Would you like to sit with him a few minutes while I do that?"

  "Oh, well, if he's waking up, I don't want to intrude on you two. I can come back later."

  Julie had looked his way as she made the offer, confirming he was okay with her suggestion. He wasn't sure, but Elaine's kind attempt to give him an out, combined with the way her eyes were fastened on his face, drinking in his features, decided him. Don't be an asshole. Or a coward. What are you worried about?

  Exactly what he'd said before the surgery. Though he'd posed it as a joke, and Julie had gone along with it, the wisdom in her lovely brown eyes had told him she knew the truth. He didn't know how he'd feel if Elaine didn't like him. Didn't matter how old he was, an abandoned kid would run toward the edge of a cliff to avoid another dose of familial rejection.

  "No, it's good. Please..." He gestured Elaine farther into the room, coughing a little, the after effect of the breathing exercise.

  Julie picked up her robe, shrugging into it and freeing her long hair from the collar. "I'll be back in a few minutes," she told Des, leaning over to brush her lips over his. He put his hand on her shoulder to hold her, bring her back down for more of that, just an extra minute. When he at last let her go, she ducked her head, hiding her flush as she hurried from the room.

  She'd handed Elaine a cup of water with what looked like big Q-tips in it before she departed. Elaine moved the rolling table close and set the cup on it so he could reach for one of the swabs and roll it across his lips and in his mouth. Fortunately, he was able to do that on his own, but she helped him find the controls on the bed and raise him to a more upright reclining position. It felt better to sit up and be somewhat in control of his faculties, though he had to close his eyes a few minutes at the return of the dizziness. They had him on some good painkillers, because he wasn't too uncomfortable, but fortunately he also wasn't loopy. He hoped.

  She'd put her bag on the chair and he saw a photo album in it. "You've been sharing pictures?" he asked, looking for a way to start the conversation that might put them both at ease.

&nbs
p; "I thought...well, you don't have to look at them. In a way, I brought them for myself. It sounds silly, but I felt like by bringing pictures of the woman who bore you, I was bringing Christine with me to meet the child she never had the chance to know."

  He blinked. "That was...an odd way to refer to her."

  Elaine's lips tightened. "She wasn't your mother. Betty was probably the closest thing to that for you, wasn't she? God bless her. But I'll call Christine your mother if you wish me to do so."

  "I don't. I guess I'm just surprised...that you'd realize that I wouldn't be comfortable with that. She was your sister." He was usually more lucid than this, but maybe this halting, gentle way they were both handling one another was how it should be. Julie had left only the bathroom light on, so it was dim and quiet in the room, cocooning them in their own world.

  Elaine took a breath. "She was my sister, and I loved her deeply, even though I didn't know how to help her. It took me a long, painful time to realize both those things could be true. Would you like me to talk about her? We don't have to do so. You've just been through surgery. We can certainly talk about other, easier things."

  "No. I think it might be easier to talk about it now. While I'm on painkillers."

  Elaine reached out to touch his hand, then thought better of the familiarity, folding her hands back against her. He didn't disagree with her decision. He wasn't sure if he was ready to be touched by his aunt, but he regretted if his lack of encouragement pained her. She straightened her back, though, and gave him a brisk nod that told him she wasn't that fragile.

  It almost made him smile. Yeah, she'd raised three kids and, from what he'd heard, she held her own with Marcus. Knowing she wasn't going to break if he said the wrong thing relaxed him a little more.

  She sat down in the chair Julie had pulled up beside the bed. "Christine had an artist's personality. When I first recognized it in Thomas, I worried so much about him because of her, but he had a steadiness, a grounding, she never had. Nothing was ever right for Christine. She had this vision of how her life was supposed to be. Whatever didn't fit with that, she simply denied, shut away, or blamed it on someone else."

  She shifted back in the chair and crossed her legs, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. She wore an inexpensive wedding set and her fingers had slightly swollen knuckles from arthritis. While her nails were neat and polished, he could tell she worked with her hands. Thomas had mentioned on that drive back to Charlotte that his mother loved gardening.

  "Would you like me to go on?" She was watching his face. At his agreement, she continued.

  "Our parents were simple farm people, but they took her to a psychiatrist on the recommendation of a guidance counselor. He put her on drugs, anti-depressants, things like that. She became addicted to any drug that could change her mood." Pain crossed Elaine's features. "She'd steal my father's painkillers for his knees, so he had to keep them locked up in the gun safe. She left home at eighteen and would come back on occasion when she had nowhere else to go. The only one she'd tell anything was me. To my shame, I took that as a badge of honor, keeping her secrets even as I knew that she'd become poison to herself."

  Elaine shook her head. "Thomas was ten when she came to stay with me for the last time. After three days, I told her I would get her into a treatment program, but if she wasn't willing to do that, she had to leave. She'd become so unstable that I didn't trust her around the children. My husband saw it. 'Lainie, I love you,' he said, 'but she shouldn't be around the kids. We both know it. If it's too hard for you to tell her to leave, I will.'"

  She blinked over the memory of a beloved husband, her hand dropping to her wedding set without conscious thought. Des felt an odd twist as he always did, seeing those subtle yet unmistakable signs of a family connection that extended over years. He'd never had that, but he was hearing about the family that had contributed to his own life's path. No matter how painful the tale for both of them, he realized he did want to hear it.

  He'd always claimed that it didn't matter if he knew or not and, in a way, it didn't, but knowing who his mother was had always been a puzzle. Her pieces added to the picture of his own life. It might not change who he was or how he viewed himself, but would give him a greater sense of balance, however hard it was for him to explain why. Perhaps it was because of what he saw in Elaine's face now. That sense of being part of a whole, not a piece cut away and drifting alone.

  "She refused, of course, but that was when I learned about you. She broke down and cried, and said if she hadn't been forced to give up her baby, maybe she would have been happy like me. At first I thought she was lying, a sympathy ploy to convince me to let her stay longer. Like most addicts, lies came as easily to her as truth, and all too often became the same to her. But as it all spilled out, I realized, to my horror, she wasn't lying."

  Elaine's eyes became distant as she recalled the conversation with her sister. "She told me you'd been born sickly. In her twisted mind, she took that as more proof that God hated her. She said God could have given her something perfect and beautiful to love, but he gave her something she couldn't care for, an excuse to leave you with the hospital and the social workers."

  Elaine paused, recalling herself, and put her hand over Des's on the blanket. Her touch was soft and cool. He was more ready for it now, but his fingers twitched in reaction, so she drew her hand away.

  "Forgive me, son. Perhaps I shouldn't have told you that, but nothing in those words she spoke were true. You were a gift she should have treasured. Your health was merely her excuse."

  "Yeah. And her fault. She abused her body, and my body paid the price."

  Des had no anger over it. It was just simple logic. But when Elaine flinched, he put out a hand, palm up. She glanced at him, then laid hers in it, like a butterfly landing. It worked better that way, him initiating the touch. He closed his fingers over hers, gently, wondering at touching her. But the feeling that rose in him was too powerful, too undefined, and he didn't want to lose control. He drew back.

  "Like you said, she blamed others for the things she did. I'm not a child, Elaine. Maybe when I was little, I went through the 'why didn't my parents love me enough to keep me' phase, but I had good people at the boys' home who looked after me. I'm not really into religion, but I do believe there's Something out there, and whatever she was so willing to blame gave me the smarts to embrace my life instead of being bitter about it. Most the time." He smiled at her. "You know, once when I was in the hospital, Miss America came to visit the children's ward? She was wearing this silky floral dress. When she bent down to stroke my head, I could look right down the front of it. I was nine. I was old enough to appreciate the gift."

  Elaine tsked at him, but her eyes twinkled, telling him he'd succeeded in easing her mind. "Mind your manners, young man."

  He sobered. "Seriously, she was nice. And I thought, wow, if I hadn't been in the hospital today, I wouldn't have met her. It was around about then I started realizing that, no matter what shit I had to deal with about my health, there were plenty of good things out there for me. I just had to pay attention so I didn't miss out on the opportunities to have them. Fortunately, my first goal--to marry her--didn't work out, so I didn't find myself off the market when I met Julie."

  "She's a very special woman."

  "She is." Des read the speculation in the older woman's face. "I won't hurt her. I love her."

  "Then you'll definitely hurt her." The wisdom and experience of it showed in Elaine's hazel eyes. "That's the way love works. She'll hurt you sometimes, too. But love is all about forgiving one another, learning to love, laugh and grow together. Build a life together. Is that your intention?"

  Des blinked at the shift. Though Elaine had been tentative in their discussions of Christine, Des now found himself in the laser sights of a woman who operated on a code many would consider outdated. But she'd obviously taken Julie under her wing and would protect her in the ways she knew best.

  Despite being b
edridden and not at his best or most stubborn, he rallied enough to give her a direct look.

  "I think that's something she and I should discuss first before I make my intentions known to anyone else."

  "Hmph." Another long stare, and Des considered it lucky he didn't relapse, holding fast against it. Then Elaine's lips curved, and her eyes sparkled anew.

  "You'll do, Desmond. You have backbone." She rose, gripping his hand and holding onto it this time. "If you don't already have a tradition of your own, I'll expect you for Christmas with the rest of the family. Julie usually stays at Marcus and Thomas's house, right down the road from us, and you're welcome to do that, or you two can stay in Thomas's old bedroom. My house is open to you."

  I'll expect you for Christmas with the rest of the family. Never in his life had those words been said to him. Maybe it was the surgery, the painkillers he was on, or other debilitating factors that made him susceptible to sucker punch triggers, but his chest got tight, his throat thickening. "Um...I...that would be..."

  Her eyes softened, and she bent down to kiss his forehead, her thin, cool hands cupping his jaw. She pressed her cheek against his, trapping the moisture that had leaked from his eye and absorbing it into her own creased skin. She straightened, combing her fingers through the wisps of hair at his brow.

  "You have no idea how much you look like her," she said, her own voice thick. "I lost my sister, Desmond, long before she actually died. I prayed for her every day, but when she told me about you, God forgive me, I prayed even harder for you. Though I knew giving you up was the best thing she ever could have done for you, I prayed that you'd end up with someone who loved you. I've prayed for you every day since she told me about you."

  She was killing him. As he tried to nod, her hand gripped his again, her eyes suddenly brilliant in their intensity. "I know you're a grown man, and you've dealt with all these things, and obviously dealt with them well. You are a generous, kind person. However, I want you to know something. If she had come to us when she was pregnant with you, Robert and I would have taken you in a heartbeat. You would have been raised as one of our children, just as loved as any of them. I didn't have the chance to do that, but if you want a family now, you have one."