by Susan Ward
They looked peaceful and in their own world. How they always looked when they were alone, in good times and bad. They were the rock us kids built our lives on. The one loving and steady thing we could always depend upon.
My mom looked at my dad, and I caught a glimpse of her face. She looked drawn, and her beautiful blue eyes were reddened. It was then I noticed Dad appeared haggard and that he hadn’t shaved today. There was stubble on his jaw.
They’d fought about me last night, and I hated that. I didn’t know what about, but it’d taken a toll on both of them.
I felt the sting of tears and lost some of the confidence that I could do this alone that Damon had instilled in me with his love and support. But I had to do it alone. It was past time for me to make my problems less burdensome for them.
As I walked toward them, I fought back the tears, determined not to add new hurts atop the ones I’d already given them.
Coming around my mom’s chair, I sank to sit on the window box in front of them. “I’m sorry about the things I said yesterday. And leaving you two on your own since you got here. Damon and I had a lot to work through.” There was a tremor in my voice I prayed they didn’t hear.
Mom shot forward and took me in her arms so tightly all the air left my lungs. “No apologies, not ever. It was a hard day for us all. All we want to know is if you’re OK.”
She pressed her lips hard to my temple, and my heart shot into my throat. “I’m good, Mom.”
A spray of kisses ran across my brow. “Then we’re good. And how’s Damon holding up?”
“Exhausted. He’s a newbie at the roller derby that is my illness. He was out like a light when I left our room.” I made a tired laugh as I settled on the edge of the box, and Mom returned to her chair. “We had a lot of decisions to make last night.”
Dad searched my face. “I take it you’ve made some?”
My gaze shot to my dad’s probing black stare. “A few. Damon and I are on the same page on what we’d like to do. I hope you two will be also. There was a lot to absorb. A lot to think through”—Mom cast a nervous glance to Dad. It was so quick I wondered if I’d imagined it—“and a lot to be grateful and thank you for.”
“There’s no need to thank us ever for anything. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for you, baby girl,” Dad said, his black eyes intense and shimmering.
I swallowed down my emotions and nodded. “I know. That’s why what I have to say to you is so hard for me.”
Both my parents’ gazes landed on me like lasers.
“What are you trying to say, Khloe?” Mom asked with dread. “You’re not going to tell us you’re not going to have the transplant, are you? We thought you were shut away in your room all this time so that Damon could talk you through your concerns. He can’t be supporting you in a decision not to have the surgery!”
Her hand was clutching her throat; she was frightened and shocked into disbelief. Mentally, I kicked myself. I’d wanted to do this gently, but I was making a mess of things. I searched my thoughts for a way to ease into this hard conversation that I’d unintentionally made harder.
“Khloe,” my dad began gently, “the surgery is scheduled for the sixteenth. The team is here and so is the heart. Should we instruct them otherwise?”
“No,” I managed to choke out. “In fact, that’s what I wanted to talk to you privately about. The surgery and the things we decided.”
“What’s there to decide?” Mom asked frantically. “We’ve hoped for a miracle, and we have one. You need the surgery, baby girl. Dr. Hern made that quite clear yesterday. Not having it isn’t an option. It’s not possible…”
She went limp like a deflated balloon, and tears streamed down her face.
“Please, Mom, hear me out.” I reached out and gripped her hand. “I’m having the surgery. I didn’t know it was already scheduled for the sixteenth. But that’s all right with me. Whatever the doctors think best. There’s a lot I need to say, and you’re not making it easy for me, Mom. Please stop crying. I’m going to be OK.”
“Then what are you trying to tell us?” Mom sounded desperate and confused.
My dad’s voice snapped me out of my hyperawareness of my mother. “Chrissie, let Khloe say what she has to say to us. Sit back, baby, and calm down. We’re listening, love.”
Love. How Dad said that shot through me like a mood stabilizer. I swiped at my face, finding it damp, and took a few deep breaths.
I struggled for a way to frame everything. Dad I could talk directly to, but oh, not Mom. Every difficult talk was like navigating emotional landmines.
Leaning back against the window, I held her in my gaze. “Do you remember on the cliffs when you got angry with me for not letting you go to the clinic with me, and I told you I didn’t want you to have any more todays? That you’d had too many of them for me already? That it was time not to give you any more?”
“Vaguely.” She shook her head, impatient. “What does that have to do with anything, Khloe?”
“I meant it, and I still do. The three of us can’t go on the way we have. Not anymore. It hasn’t been fair to you two or the rest of the family. My problems have been your problems too long. I won’t do that to you, not any longer. I love you, but it’s time to let me control what happens to me.”
Dad’s grip on Mom’s hand tightened. “I take it those were the decisions you made with Damon last night.”
His question made me cringe, but I lifted my chin. “No, decisions I made that he supports. Let’s get something clear. How we proceed was my decision. No one else’s. It’s how I want things, what I can live with, and you’re going to have to respect that.”
“That’s all we’ve ever tried to do—” Dad’s voice broke, and a single tear slid down his cheek. I watched it run to his chin. I’d never seen him cry before.
“Yes, but I’m not fourteen anymore, and some of the choices about things have to be mine. I don’t want to add burden to you on top of what you’ve already carried.”
“We’re your parents, Khloe,” Mom said, anguished, “and you’re our joy, not our burden. There’s no such thing as too much where your children are concerned. We can go through anything for you.”
Her words were heartbreaking. It made me sharply aware I could never completely know what my illness had been to them.
I took a moment to collect myself. “About the surgery, there are two things I want which I hope you’ll understand.”
“If you want it, it’s yours, Khloe,” my dad said fiercely.
I shifted my gaze to him. It was easier to look at Dad as I said what I needed to. “If decisions have to be made while I’m having the surgery, I don’t want you two to have to make them. They’re apt to be more difficult than any you’ve had to make, and I don’t want you having the weight of that. It would tear me up if things went wrong and you were forced to live with what happened to me. I wrote out a health directive last night. I didn’t bring it. It was pretty simple. The things I’d let the medical team do and the things I wouldn’t. I didn’t want the choice landing on you.”
My dad’s face was abruptly stripped of emotion. “That sounds like a good way to proceed. Why are you so distraught telling us this?”
I braced myself. “Because I’ve given medical power of attorney to Damon. If the doctors need a decision made, he’s going to make it. And you two aren’t going to make that harder for him.”
Mom’s eyes went so wide they looked like saucers on her face. “You can’t mean that, Khloe.”
“Yes, she does, Chrissie.”
“I’ve been very clear on what I’ll allow the doctors to do to save my life if necessary, Mom,” I told her gently. “And it would rip you apart to follow my instructions, and I can’t permit that.”
I waited for the fallout.
Mom stared at the floor, stricken.
Dad nodded, his expression unreadable. “If you think that’s best.”
My he
art swelled from the sensation of how much he loved me. “You’ve always protected me. This time I need to protect you.”
He shook his head, and his jaw hardened. Those were the only visible signs he was struggling with all this. I waited for them both to settle a bit before I picked up again.
“As for the transplant,” I began once my mom looked a bit less ragged, “I’m having it, but not with the cloned heart. I’ve opted for the artificial heart. From everything the doctors said yesterday, it’s nearly as good as the cloned heart. I see no reason not to proceed with it.”
My dad’s black eyes shot to my face. “No, Khloe. Nearly as good is not good enough for my daughter.”
“You don’t have a choice in this, Dad.” I met his gaze squarely. “I don’t want to be Patient One for Phanes Two. In fact, the only way I can live with what my illness brought you two to pay for is if we donate that heart. Save another person’s life on the registry. Dr. Hern can find a match, and they can decide if they want to be the first cloned heart transplant. I don’t want that, Dad. Not ever.”
“You will never get Damon to agree with this,” my mom exclaimed, beside herself. “The cloned heart is the choice that gives back everything you’ve lost to cancer. It’s the safest, best choice for you.”
I lifted my chin. “We already agree, Mom. And once you calm down, you’ll realize it’s best for all of us. It’s the decision I can live with and your incredible gift to another family. I’m a very lucky girl. I’ve got more than anyone deserves to have. But not every family is as fortunate as ours. Not all parents can pay for a private research team to cure their child. And they love their child as much as you do. There’s no reason why we should waste one heart and use the other to save me. And that’s what your incredible hope and generosity have paid for. The saving of two lives and perhaps many more. This isn’t a bad decision, Mom. It’s the only right decision there is.”
I couldn’t take another moment of my parents’ faces. I hurried from the room. They were reeling. But I knew that, given time, they’d see it my way.
DAMON WAS AWAKE, sitting on the bed, looking worried when I returned.
“Where did you go?”
I settled on the bed, facing him. “To talk to my parents.”
He frowned. “I thought we agreed we’d do that together.”
“You agreed. I only remained silent on that one.”
He grimaced. “Khloe—”
“Do you want to be annoyed with me or hear how it went?”
I don’t know what triggered it, but Damon’s tension melted. He took me in his arms and held me closely. He smelled good; a hint of cologne was on his neck, and I realized he’d showered while I was gone and put on fresh clothes.
Harmonized yin and yang. I needed space from him with my parents, and he hadn’t overreacted. Instead, he gave me that space. I wasn’t sure how long I was gone or how long he’d waited for me, but it was soothing and confirmed I’d made the right choice with the medical directive to know he’d done both.
He brushed the hair back from my face, kissed my forehead, and waited.
I shrugged. “It went pretty much as I expected.”
“What does that mean? I haven’t a clue what your parents’ reaction would be.”
“Mom cried, and Dad listened.”
His brows rose. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“It wasn’t. Not while it was happening.” My stomach did a quick shudder. “But they heard me out, and they won’t interfere with what I’ve decided.”
“Really?” He looked stunned.
I smiled. “Really.”
He shot me an examining glance, his amber eyes sharpening. “How are you?”
“Surprisingly, OK.” My mouth curved. “No. That’s not right. I’m better than OK. I’m more positive we’re making the right moves.”
“So what do we do now?”
His dubious tone made me laugh. “Mrs. Freeburg has made something that smells delicious. Sunset’s done. I suppose we go have dinner with my parents.”
“Like that? We just bugger on in our normal day and ignore the elephant in the room?” He sounded mystified.
“There’s no elephant.” I made a face at him. “Only love and a clear plan forward. And, yes, we bugger on.”
He frowned. “I can’t imagine Alan not having some harsh thoughts about me. Don’t you think I should go talk to your dad?”
I shook my head. “No. This is the stage in Manzone world where we let everything rest and pretend things are normal.”
“That’s really a stage in your family?” His nose was crinkled.
I laughed. “Yes. Haven’t you noticed that yet? If something is going to bubble up, it will on its own, but you don’t have to force it. And Dad’s pretty good at keeping Mom from bubbling. Oh, and I forgot to tell you. They’ve both made their last decision for me ever.”
He searched my face. “I hope you mean that. What did they do?”
“They scheduled my surgery for the sixteenth. It’s all set up.” I tilted my head. “And I don’t want to get into the weeds with that. I need to let it rest. We need to let everything breathe. Now, let’s go to dinner. I’m starved. And please, don’t bring up anything serious with my parents. Tonight I want only a nice, happy family dinner.”
“Happy family dinner.” He shook his head and scrubbed back his hair. “There are times your family is quite barmy to me. How do we go out there and not talk about what’s happening?”
I kissed him on the nose. “By not talking about anything. It’s going to be fine. And my family isn’t barmy. This is just how we get through the tough things. Never short-changing the good parts of being a family. And being together.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Damon
The Past
DINNER WITH KHLOE’S parents passed more smoothly than I could have imagined, yet it felt like I was strapped on a ticking time bomb. It all felt normal. They all seemed happy. Normal happy. Not happy-happy. Christ, I was even thinking now in Khloe-speak. Every second frayed my nerves.
I loosened my collar as we moved to the great room to finish our after-dinner cognac, and, of course, Khloe noticed the gesture and frowned. Making a slight shrug, I settled close beside her on a sofa near the fireplace.
“Oh, I forgot,” Chrissie announced, perking up in a way that caused every muscle in my body to tense. “I brought you presents, Khloe. Surprises. I haven’t had a chance to give them to you yet.”
“You did?” Khloe answered, sweetly surprised.
I shifted my gaze between smiling mother and daughter, wondering if this was some kind of ruse by Khloe’s mom to leave me alone with Alan.
Chrissie rose and made a hand gesture. “Come. Let’s go up to my room so I can give them to you.”
No…no…no…
“Now?” Khloe laughed.
Chrissie nodded.
Khloe plopped around to face me. “Do you mind if I cut out for a while with my mom?”
It was lovely that she asked, and it would make me seem the worst kind of boor if I said no. “Not at all.” I caught her hand and squeezed it fast, hoping she got the message: Come back quickly.
As I listened to their footsteps echo from the hallway, reluctantly I turned my gaze to Alan. Hmm. He was surfing on his phone and appeared rather tame tonight. He scrubbed wearily at the back of his neck. Not tame, maybe just tired. The man was over seventy. Not that you would know it by looking at him.
I wondered if Khloe would age as splendidly as her parents had. She was so beautiful, I couldn’t wait to see her at thirty, forty, sixty, seventy…then a thought cut through my musings and my insides jumped. That was something I’d never allowed myself to consider. Who we’d be old. We never thought about the future, yet that was something we could do now.
For the first time I began to be very aware of what Alan’s incredible gift meant to us. With all the things that had weighed on my m
ind, somehow I’d overlooked that the surgery meant Khloe would beat her illness.
Feeling suddenly overly emotional and choked up, I rallied a smile to prevent a tear. We’d been so consumed by other worries we’d failed to realize we’d reached a new phase: infinite possibilities for us.
My God. If it felt this euphoric for me, I couldn’t imagine what it felt like for the Manzones. It was the happiest of happy and it wasn’t diminished by the scariest of scary which was the surgery.
Relaxing back, I waited politely quiet for Alan to finish whatever had grabbed his attention on his cell.
“Rough couple of days?” Alan stated, shocking me out of my reverie. He hadn’t looked up at me. Was it an observation or logical assumption given the circumstance?
“A bit.”
“Bullshit. You look like a man who’s been to hell and back a few times.”
For what it was worth, Alan did, too, though I suspected he wore it better than I did.
“It’s been arduous, for us both. And for you and Chrissie.”
He shut off his phone, tossed it on the table, and locked me in his penetrating, burning black stare. “The trick to getting through this is never to lose sight of what’s important.”
I wasn’t sure why he was telling me that. “I try not to, ever, sir.”
“The sir can go, Damon.” Alan laughed. “We are, after all, family, and soon you’re going to be married to my daughter.”
“Sorry. It’s hard for me to forget you’re of more noble birth than I am.” I grinned.
“Don’t remind me.” Alan sounded aghast.
“Rather hard to forget.”
“Not for me.”
Was this odd conversation going somewhere?
Alan reached for his cognac. “You know, Damon, when push comes to shove, only one thing makes measure of a man. It’s not titles. It’s not fame. It’s not money. It’s how he climbs out of an abyss of shit. The things he does. The decisions he makes when there’s no clearly right answer.”
