by C. M. Newman
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR: THE TEAM
Vince had brushed off the idea of oxygen therapy during a previous visit by the hospice staff, but thought of changing his mind now that his breathing was going downhill so quickly. He wheezed just lying in bed, sleeping. Once Angela was sure that was what he was doing, she left his side. She only made it halfway down the hall before she felt the urgent need to throw up, an urge she fulfilled in the hallway bathroom before she could even shut the door behind her.
Mitch appeared in the doorway when the vomiting turned to dry heaves over the toilet, as Angela hardly had anything in her stomach to lose in the first place. She didn’t notice his presence until she was flushing and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Oh,” she said when she saw him standing there.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked.
Angela shook her head slowly, carefully making her way to the sink. Her tears mixed with the spittle on her chin until she splashed it all away with some cold water. The water seemed to rinse away her need to cry, too, for which she was grateful.
“I know you just threw up, so food’s probably the last thing on your mind, but you should really eat something. When’s the last time you ate?” Mitch pried.
“Please, don’t,” Angela said as nicely as she could.
“You need to take care of yourself.”
“If I’m hungry, I’ll eat,” Angela said curtly. “Charlie’s not here, so I don’t need to set an example for him.”
“Promise you’ll let me know when you’re hungry? I can make you anything you want. With the munchkin gone and you doing most of the work taking care of Vince, I could use something to do.”
Angela cast her brother-in-law a sidelong glance and forced a weak smile. “I promise. If I’m hungry, you’ll be the first to know. Excuse me.” She slipped past him and sneaked into the master bathroom to get her toothbrush. “We have our friends from work coming by soon to see him,” she informed Mitch, leaving the bedroom door open a crack and taking the hallway bathroom again so as not to disturb Vince’s sleep.
“Do you want me to go?” Mitch asked.
“No, no, I just wanted to let you know. If it makes you uncomfortable and you want to go, then I’d understand. It’ll be their last time seeing him, probably. It’ll be pretty emotional in here. But I’m not kicking you out by any means.”
“I’d rather not leave the apartment,” Mitch decided. Without another word, he left Angela alone to brush her teeth. Shortly after she was done and making herself some peppermint tea, someone knocked quietly at the door. Mitch looked over the back of the couch, where he was surfing channels for lack of anything better to do.
“Hey,” Angela said to Sophie and Marshall in a muted voice as Sophie set a vase of wildflowers on the counter. “Vince is asleep. He probably won’t be for long, though. He doesn’t sleep very deeply without the strong stuff and he’s refusing it right now,” Angela informed them. She was taken into a perfumed hug once she finished her sentence. Sophie’s embrace almost sent her into another crying bout, but she resisted. Marshall stuffed his hands in his pockets as he watched the miserable scene. Sophie screwed up her soggy face as she looked around the apartment. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?” Angela offered. “I was just making myself some tea.”
Her friends both politely declined. “Can we get you anything?” Sophie asked, though she didn’t look like she was in any condition to do anything for anyone.
“Hey, Angela, you have something…in your hair…” Marshall interrupted, speaking softly.
Angela picked up the ends of her hair and saw. “Ah. That would be vomit. Sorry about that. Sorry for my appearance in general. I did shower, though, I promise…”
“Sweetie, there are a lot of things much more important than you looking presentable. How are you feeling?” Sophie asked.
Angela shrugged as she rinsed out the ends of her still damp hair in the kitchen sink. “I’m getting by.”
“Just remember, we’ll only be a phone call away,” Marshall said.
“Thanks,” Angela said, not knowing what else to add, just as another knock sounded. Soon enough, Harry’s appearance completed the team.
“Thank you,” Harry said when he accepted a large cup of coffee from Angela. “Remember, I’m not going anywhere. Just don’t tell him. He’ll kill me.”
Angela grinned halfheartedly. “You really don’t have to stay in town. The team needs you.”
“I think you two need me more. At least, you will, if the unspeakable does indeed happen before the case is over. And what if Vince changes his mind and says he wants me there when the fever’s talking? I’m his best friend. You’re not gonna change my mind, so I’d stop trying if I were you.”
“But—”
“We need someone to work this case remotely anyway. We’ve got information on some related crimes that goes back thirty years and it’s not all digitized yet. No way we could bring it all with us.”
“You’d better be telling the truth.”
“So…where’s Charlie? Over at his aunt’s?” Harry asked, abruptly changing the subject.
“Actually, we just moved him over there today,” Angela said to everyone when ears perked up at Harry’s question. “This was becoming too much for him. Not a good place for a kid to be. He wanted to start living with Jenna, so…”Angela shrugged and bit her lip. “Can you guys please not bring it up to Vince, though? He’s been depressed enough about it as it is.”
“Of course. Now that we’re all here, what’s actually going on?” Marshall asked. The team was now settled in the living room. “Fitz said something about pneumonia.”
Angela nodded calmly, though on the inside she knew only chaos.
—
Vince looked like he’d been up for forty-eight hours rather than just having risen from an hour-long nap. “Can you please take just a little bit of morphine?” Angela asked him behind the closed door. “Just enough to take the edge off the pain.”
“Hello to you, too,” Vince said flatly, looking around in a slight daze for a clock. The nearest one told him it was five.
“Sorry,” Angela said with a sigh. “Not trying to be bossy, I just worry. Tragic flaw. We have some Jell-O, too, if you’re hungry.”
“Not hungry. But after everyone leaves, I’ll take a little something for the night. I promise,” Vince said, holding out a hand that trembled like a dead leaf hanging on through the last of autumn’s breeze. Angela sat at his bedside and massaged his fingers, remembering complaints about poor circulation. “I honestly can’t swallow very well, though. My throat’s too sore. It won’t even close.”
“I’ll call and let them know, see if we can start injecting your medication and get you some fluids. And maybe oxygen…I know you don’t like the idea, but if there’s a chance it’ll help you breathe easier, make it less painful…”
“We can…try it, I guess. I need to get through tomorrow. I still have to talk to Charlie and Jen…and you and Mitch when the time comes, obviously…Is everyone here now?”
“Yeah, everyone’s here. How do you want to do this? Do you want everyone in here at once?”
“For a minute, yeah. I would like to talk to everyone individually, though, but…all at once to start.” Winded already, Vince closed his eyes for a moment.
“Sure. You ready?” Angela asked as she stacked up some pillows behind him and helped him get comfortable sitting.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
None of their visitors seemed to want to sit. Not knowing what else to do and not wanting Vince to feel like a spectacle all by himself, Angela sat back down next to him and took his hand in both of hers.
Vince looked worse—gaunter, more tired—than he had the last time any of his friends had seen him. The looks on their faces were evident of that much. “Thanks for coming, guys,” he started. He didn’t want to wear himself out before he got the chance to talk with them one-on-one, but he felt the need to explain himself. “I know this case seems li
ke bad timing, but…I think I prefer it this way…I don’t want to say goodbye to anyone…but I’ll have to eventually…and I’d rather you all not watch me die anyway…I’m sorry to be so selfish…but I also think it’s important…that you guys go on this case…There are people out there who need you…much more than I do…They can still be saved…for me, it’s just a matter of time…If it helps, then think of you guys going on this case…as my dying wish.”
Vince’s pitiful plea made it difficult for anyone in the room to be upset with him, he knew. He didn’t like being manipulative, but it was the only way he was going to get everyone to leave for the case without further argument.
“I want to talk to each one of you alone…but first, I guess I’d like to say…that I’ve missed you all so much these past six or seven months…and when I say that, I can’t believe it…It definitely doesn’t feel like it’s been that long…seems like just yesterday, Angela and I were…pigging out on pizza in Louisiana…and I was throwing up in the bathroom…and she was trying not to be obvious about how she felt…”
No one laughed.
“I love you all,” Vince continued seriously upon realizing no one was up for a standup routine. “You’re my family…you have been for so long…you’ve helped me through so much…I can never thank you enough…” He batted away his tears and mouthed an apology. “I obviously don’t have a whole lot of energy…I guess I should get this started before I run out…Sophie, could I talk to you first?” he asked arbitrarily.
“Sure,” she said meekly, finally taking the seat beside him after staging her wildflowers on the windowsill. Everyone else departed. “I can’t say goodbye to you,” she whimpered, shaking her head and running her fingers underneath her eyes.
“If you don’t want to…you don’t have to…I’d understand.”
Sophie shook her head even more wildly now. “I can’t not say goodbye to you, either. Ugh, what is wrong with this world?”
“A lot more than this,” Vince said meaningfully. “Some of which you can fix.”
“But this we can’t,” Sophie said irately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to rant. But I don’t know what to say. I don’t.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Vince said distantly. “I guess I thought I…would have these really…moving conversations with everyone. But it’s not that easy, is it?”
“Can I just hug you?” Sophie asked, opening her arms. Vince answered by spreading his as well. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you, sir. I can’t think of anyone who deserves this less.” She hiccupped into his shoulder and started to pull away as if she’d offended him, but Vince tugged her back in with what little strength he had.
“If this world were fair…then you and I…never would have had jobs…and we never would have met,” Vince said.
There was the profoundness he’d been looking for.
“You can’t be all philosophical and insightful while I’m here blubbering like an idiot,” Sophie snipped before her hiccups led to sobs that racked her body. “I can stay. I can stay here if you want,” she said desperately. “I’m sure I can get someone on another team to cover for me.”
“I meant what I said,” Vince said with surprising patience. “What would make me happy…is knowing that I didn’t take you guys away…from something that was really important.”
“But you’re important, Vince, don’t you get that? Don’t you know that people love you?” Sophie said in a mild rage. She picked up a frame on the nightstand. It was the photograph of Vince and Angela after their wedding. “See this? Not only does Angela love you to pieces, but we all do. Not the same way she does, but you know what I mean.”
“Of course I do. I know. But…after I’ve said my goodbyes…there’s not gonna be much else to see. Hopefully I’ll find the strength to just…let go…I’m more awake right now…than I’ve been in a while, and I think that’s…some sort of blessing…so I can make my peace with everyone. After I do…I’ll just fall asleep…”
“Oh my gosh, I am being so selfish,” Sophie said in horror at her own actions. “You’re exhausted beyond belief and I’m sitting here—”
“Sophie, it’s okay—” Vince said with a scratchy throat that tickled just enough to send him coughing. All he could think about while he hacked up what seemed to be half the contents of his lungs was that he’d just made Sophie feel guilty when that was the last thing he wanted to make anyone feel. He heard her rush off to get Angela when the coughing fit didn’t subside soon enough. Angela was at his side in no time, telling Sophie, who stood panicked by the door, that she might want to look away as she unflinchingly handed Vince a hand towel.
He coughed until his body told him it didn’t have the energy to do so anymore, then collapsed back against his pillows and let out a dry moan of agony. His abdominal and chest muscles hurt more than his throat.
When he looked up through the tears—both from the coughing and from the pain—he saw Angela refraining from pushing pain pills on him again. It was written plainly on her face that she wished he wouldn’t put himself through such torture, but he tried to be equally clear that this was what he wanted.
The strong smell of ethyl alcohol permeated the air when Angela squeezed a bit of hand sanitizer into Vince’s waiting palm, then wadded up his towel. “Better?” she asked him, running her hand from the top of his head and down his neck.
“Yeah, thanks,” he whispered with a nod. He could tell she had a hard time leaving his side again, but she did so anyway, knowing that these moments alone were almost all he had left to look forward to, which he did in a sick way. He’d missed his friends.
The look on Sophie’s fear-stricken face asked Vince if it was safe to come back over once the door was closed again. He beckoned to her.
“Sorry about that,” Vince said, still in a whisper—all his throat would allow right now.
“Don’t be. How on earth are you going to be able to do this with everyone?” Sophie wondered aloud. “Do you want some cough syrup? One person in and you’ve already lost your voice. You want to say goodbye and you can’t even talk.”
Reaching out and taking her hand, Vince told Sophie that words weren’t always needed.
“Okay, I get the symbolism, it’s nice and deep and all, but seriously, do you want some cough syrup? Do you have any?” she asked, frantically looking at the now organized mess of things next to his bed.
“I do, but I can hardly swallow anyway.”
Sophie looked uncertainly between Vince and the door, behind which waited more people who wanted their time with him. “Don’t be afraid of…hogging my time, Sophie,” Vince said, fixing her attention on him now.
“Oh, thank you so much for saying that,” she gasped, hugging him almost too forcefully. He returned her embrace, trying not to breathe in the perfume. “I will miss you so much, Vince. You have no idea. We all will.”
“I’ll miss you, too,” he said simply. “And I love you.”
Sophie, out of things to say, nodded and leaned in for one final hug. “I love you, too, sir.”
“Sophie, seriously…it’s been six months since I’ve been your boss.”
“You will always be ‘sir’ to me.”
—
Vince wasn’t sure he was ready for Marshall when he walked in the door, but he didn’t know who else he expected it to be. He knew Harry would find a way to make sure he got the last appointment.
“Hey, you,” Marshall said with a sad attempt at a smile as he set chrysanthemums next to the television, then ambled over to the chair by Vince’s bed. “Promise you’re not gonna pick a fight with me?”
Vince laughed, but quietly and carefully.
“Actually, that’s not really all that funny,” Marshall said darkly. “I still hate myself for that, you know. You’d just married the woman of your dreams and I took that time away from you. I’m so sorry.”
Vince shook his head and folded his hands in his lap. “In a way, I’m glad you did…at l
east looking back…now I remember I don’t have to…worry about Angela quite as much…right?”
“Of course you don’t. You don’t have to worry about her for a second, Vince. You can miss her, but don’t worry. She’s in good hands.”
Vince couldn’t help but think a bit sourly about how Marshall had tried to instill exactly that worry in his mind, telling him how much his death would destroy Angela. But that was too long ago—and his time alone with Marshall was too short—for him to dwell on it. He had to believe that what Marshall was saying right now was true—that Angela had the strength to come out of this changed but not broken, that she had friends and family who would stop at nothing to help her. He needed to hear Marshall say it again. “You promise you’ll take care of her?”
Marshall leaned forward and covered Vince’s hands. “I promise you, Vince. I’ll take care of her. We all will.” Unlike others, Marshall didn’t appear to feel the need to tack on that Angela was strong.
Vince nodded in gratitude and let his head sink back against the pillows. “You were right. I was selfish…to let this happen…but she’s the only good thing…that’s happened to me…since I was diagnosed. Actually…she’s one of the best things…that’s ever happened to me…period.”
“I know she is,” Marshall said, his eyebrows slanted mournfully. “But you were right, too. She’s a big girl. She knew what she wanted. And yeah, I’m sure she never expected it would hurt half as much as it does, but I guarantee you she doesn’t regret a single second of it. I’m sure she’d do it all over again.”
Vince discovered he didn’t need those particular words of comfort from Marshall. He already knew, somewhere in the depths of his aching heart, that there was a difference between agony and regret, that Angela was experiencing agony in earth-shattering magnitudes, but knew nothing of regret, except in the form of wishing she hadn’t pursued him sooner.
“Do me a favor?” Vince asked. Even though he could think and talk about Angela all day, that wasn’t why Marshall was here.
“Anything.”
“When Harry retires…and that won’t be long…take ASAC. Hanson already has that recommendation…from me…and she’ll get it from him, too.”
“What does work have to do with any of this?” Marshall said uncomfortably.
“It has everything to do with this,” Vince replied. “This job isn’t just what you do…it’s who you are…there are people out there…who will always need your help…and that’s why I got into this…line of work…it’s why we all did…” Vince held up a hand that pled for a moment to breathe. He stared down at his feet while his body refueled a bit. “All of us on the team…we had one thing in common, helping people…and the best way for them to keep doing that…is for you to take charge…when Harry leaves. They need a familiar face…someone they can trust to lead them…okay?”
“If that’s what you want, then you got it.”
“I know I’m asking a lot of you,” Vince said a bit shamefully. “I’m trying not to play the…deathbed card too much…or to play it for things…that aren’t reasonable…”
“Vince, you’re just fine. I mean, c’mon, you’re sendin’ us all away when you need us. We hate leavin’ you alone like this.”
Vince cocked his head meaningfully toward the bedroom door. “I’m not alone.”
Marshall followed Vince’s thoughts down the hallway. “I guess that’s true. We hate to leave her, too, though.”
That hammered a stake right through Vince’s heart. How had he not thought of Angela? She hadn’t really asked anyone on the team to hold her hand through any of this—she’d done the opposite, really—but what if there came a point before the case was closed that she were to change her mind? Having Mitch around to lean on could only be so helpful. She didn’t know him like she knew her friends.
“You all right? You need something?” Marshall asked with eyes that were now streaming, though they had been dry the last time Vince had checked.
Vince surfaced from his trance and realized his eyes had closed. “I’m sorry…I’m just…”
“Exhausted?” Marshall asked.
“Yeah. I’m sorry.”
“I should get goin’, then. C’mere.” Marshall opened his arms for a hug that Vince barely had the strength to return. “I love you, man. You know that, right?”
“I do. I love you, too. Can you get Angela for me? And then stick around for a bit? After I talk to Harry…I’d like to have everyone in here…one more time…”
“Of course.” Marshall was a mess by the time he withdrew, but knowing that he would get to see Vince at least once more seemed to give him the courage to leave the room.
Vince tried to sort through his jumbled inner dialogue before Angela returned to him, but he was more confused than ever by the time she showed him her careworn face. “Marshall said you asked for me?” she said, leaving the door ajar.
“Can you shut it…all the way, please?” Vince asked.
Alarmed instead of haggard now, Angela did as she was asked and sat down next to Vince, resting the back of her hand on his forehead. “What’s the matter? I called about getting oxygen and getting your drugs injected, and they said they can come any time.”
“It’s not that,” Vince said, balling up Angela’s hands in his own.
“Then what is it?” she asked.
“I wasn’t thinking…when I asked the team to leave…I wasn’t thinking about you…and I’m sorry…”
“That?” Angela said, scooting closer on her chair. “Oh sweetheart, I’m okay. You’re right, they have a job to do. And if they did stay, you know me. I’d push them away. It’s okay.” She ran her thumb gingerly across his temple and locked gazes with him. “You look so tired,” she said dismally.
“I am.”
Angela wished there were some way Vince could get in his goodbye with Harry the next day instead without blowing Harry’s cover. “Just one more to go tonight, then Charlie can come read to you, and then you can sleep all you need to.”
“How are you doing?” Vince asked. “Out there with everyone…you must be feeling a little crowded.”
Angela shrugged. “Can’t think of a better group of people to be crowded by.”
“I love you,” Vince said, squeezing Angela’s hands and willing her to come in closer. She did, placing a kiss on his forehead before returning his proclamation.
“You’re sure about the team leaving?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Are you ready to talk to Fitz?”
Vince nodded and reluctantly let go of her hands, wishing he could figure out how much of what she had just said was the truth. Could she really do this on her own, without the friends she’d grown to trust so much over the years?
Harry shut the door soundlessly, staring at Vince for a moment before finding somewhere to put his calla lilies. With all the flowers from tonight combined with arrangements Sophie brought every time she visited, the room looked like a florist’s shop.
Vince wasn’t sure what he expected of his long-time best friend. Encouraging words masked with wise cracks were Harry’s usual trick, but he was too tasteful to be making jokes at someone’s deathbed, and how on earth could he be uplifting at a time like this? Harry had hoisted Vince out of the doldrums countless times before, but only when there had been someplace else to go. He was also a brutally honest man, but even gentle honesty at a time like this would cut to the bone.
“I’m not ready,” Vince confessed, more tears forcing their way free.
“You will be,” Harry said without much of his typical certainty. “Once you’ve talked to everyone, made your peace.”
Vince shook his head. “Not even then. I’m not ready, Harry. I never will be.”
Harry was one of two people Vince felt he could fully open up to. Angela, the other, had just walked out the door without getting the full brunt of Vince’s frustration. She hadn’t gotten any of it, really. He wondered if he had lost his ability to lose himself around Harry, too, and wo
ndered whether it was even allowed. Harry was just as much of a victim here as he was, Vince figured. He deserved a chance to let his own feelings be known, to hold a real conversation with his friend.
“Talk to me,” Harry said, settling back into his chair and clasping his hands together over his belt buckle.
“What’s there to say?” Vince said poignantly, staring straight ahead of him.
“Whatever’s on your mind.”
“Charlie broke me today” was the first thing that came to Vince’s mind, so it was the first thing that came out of his mouth.
“I can’t begin to imagine how painful that must’ve been, Vince. I’m sorry.”
“I did this for him, you know….If it’d just been me, I wouldn’t have bothered…with the chemo…I would’ve just let the cancer…run its course.”
“I’ve never been more grateful for a little kid, then,” Harry said, watching Vince’s steady profile. “He gave you a reason to want to live. To live life to the fullest, really. Which you did. And Charlie wasn’t the only person you got to live for. You know who I’m talking about.”
“Marshall said he’s sure Angela doesn’t regret it,” Vince was compelled to say.
“You think she does?”
Vince shook his head briefly before his shoulders quaked. “I don’t think she does…but sometimes I do. Maybe she might—might not take it back…if she had the choice…but I think I would.”
“That’s the fever talking,” Harry said, confident now.
“It’s not. Look what I’ve done…roped her into taking care of me…into committing to a child…that she didn’t create…and I couldn’t give her one of her own…” Vince hadn’t even been fully aware of all the shame he was harboring until he let it all out now. “I started something I couldn’t…follow through on. At least with Charlie, I had no choice, you know? He was already my son…but I should’ve left well enough alone with Angela…”
A long silence—one that bothered neither one of them—prevailed while Harry thought of a way to console his friend. “You regret starting one of the most meaningful relationships you’ve ever had with another person?”
“Don’t get me wrong, it was great for me…but her…she wanted a family, Harry. She didn’t want this…she wanted a future.”
“As much as I think it’s proper to indulge a dying man, I’m gonna have to disagree with you,” Harry stated. “Look at me for a second, would you?”
Vince turned his head, his sunken cheeks, discolored eyes, and translucent complexion almost breaking Harry’s resolve.
“If she wanted this,” Harry said, “and she doesn’t regret it—if it made her happy, and if she doesn’t want out now, when this relationship is at its absolute hardest, then why on earth would you want to take that away from her? Of course it hurts. It’s the worst pain in the world, Vince. But the happiness you two got to experience will far outweigh the pain she’ll feel from losing you. Five, ten, twenty years from now, she’s not going look back on how hard it was. She’ll look back on how happy you made her.”
“How could she?” Vince asked skeptically.
“Let me ask you this. How did you move on after your divorce? And then after Kate died?”
“Easy,” Vince said, sucking on his top lip. “Charlie.”
“Exactly. You found the best thing that came out of that relationship and you let it breathe life back into you. Angela’s gonna do the same, Vince. And you know what? She’s probably gonna go to the exact same place—to the exact same person. To Charlie. She loves that kid to pieces. Without you, she wouldn’t have him and he wouldn’t have her. You’d really change that if you had the chance? You’d take them away from each other?”
“You’re gonna pick on me at my deathbed?” Vince said dully, looking away again, though his lips turned up just enough at the corners to let Harry know he’d done his job.
“She took your name, for Pete’s sake. This doesn’t end here for her. This was about as far from a fling as you could get. Think of…your favorite memory from your relationship. You don’t have to tell me what it is. Just…think about it. You got it?”
Vince couldn’t choose—it was either their kiss in the bathroom the night everything had finally fallen into place, Angela telling him she loved him out in the snow, or maybe their wedding, where her grumbling stomach had sent them both laughing in the middle of their vows. Or perhaps it was taking a late night dip in the Atlantic with her, being able to carry her for once, the two of them laughing at each other’s bad jokes and falling in love yet again. Obviously, though, the specifics of the memory didn’t matter to the point Harry was trying to make, so Vince pulled himself back into the present. “Got it.”
“Okay, now no matter what that memory is, I bet you dollars to donuts she’ll be thinking of the same thing countless times over the next however many years she has. What’s your worst memory with her?”
“Besides this? I don’t even want to think about it,” Vince said.
“Exactly. Neither does she. She’ll dwell on this while she mourns, of course she will. I won’t sugarcoat that. She’ll be heartbroken. But she’s going to move past it. I promise you that,” Harry said with shining eyes.
Vince relented with a nod and stared through the closed door, down the hall, to where he imagined Angela sitting. On the couch, probably next to Sophie. Maybe being with him had been a great sacrifice of her heart, but Harry did have a point—as he always did, to Vince’s vexation. Angela had been happy with him. He hoped he could hold on to this unsteady mindset long enough to say goodbye to her when the time came.
“Feel a little better?” Harry asked.
“Yeah.”
“Good.” Harry let Vince breathe for a while longer while he cooked up what to say next. “You’re a stand-up guy, you know that?”
Vince raised an eyebrow. “What, do you think I need an ego boost?”
“You were just trying to tell me you didn’t deserve the love of your own wife. Of course you need an ego boost.”
“Guess so.” Vince grinned—he had no idea how, until he remembered it was Harry. Vince’s smile faded away quickly, though. As nice as it was to have a characteristic, lighthearted yet meaningful conversation with Harry, he couldn’t squeeze out another ounce of happiness from the situation. In a matter of days, he would no longer exist in a tangible form, and there was no getting around that. He felt the depression closing in on him again. And with that came the guilt in crushing waves. “Can you do something for me?” he asked.
“You name it.”
“Angie keeps saying she can’t picture life after this…that she doesn’t even want to think about marrying again…and as much as I wish it could be me growing old with her…I know that it can’t be…and I want her to have somebody.” Vince dragged a hand under his nose and let his head sink into the pillows again. “Before all this, she wanted all these things I couldn’t give her. I don’t want it to be too late…so if it’s not too much trouble, just make sure she’s at least keeping her mind open.”
“You’re asking me to set up your wife with someone,” Harry said just so Vince could hear how absurd it sounded.
“I know it sounds crazy. You don’t have to set her up on a date or anything. Like I said, just make sure she’s open-minded about it.”
“How exactly am I supposed to do that?” Harry asked neutrally.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. As long as it’s not too much to ask.”
“Of course it’s not. If there’s anything else you want, now’s the time to ask for it,” Harry said, resting a hand on Vince’s shoulder. “Absolutely anything. I’d do anything for you any day of the week, but I won’t always beg you to give me a list. Now I’m begging you to give me a list.”
“I guess, make sure everyone’s there for each other,” Vince said, thinking as he went along. “Have…get-togethers or something…reinstate team bar night…keep the morale up.”
“Consider it done. Anything else?�
�
Vince thought and shook his head.
“Vince, you are hands down the best friend I’ve ever had. Do you know that?” Harry said.
Vince forced a hint of a smile. “You too, Harry.”
Just when Vince was wondering if Harry would ever lose it in front of him, fat tears rolled quickly down his old friend’s cheeks. “It’s pretty wrong that I’m outliving you. I never thought I’d be the one s—seeing you off. Most times you’ve felt like a brother to me, but whenever you’ve been in trouble you’ve felt more like a son. Fathers aren’t supposed to outlive their sons.”
“I’m sorry.” Vince covered Harry’s hand on his shoulder before Harry took him into a hug.
“I’m not good with goodbyes,” Harry confessed.
“Who would be?”
“Angela said Charlie’s coming over in a while to read with you?” Harry said after clearing his throat into his fist. He readied himself to leave the room.
“Yeah, soon,” Vince said.
“Good.”
“Can you do me…one more favor?” Vince asked as Harry rose. “Can you ask the team to come in here again? Including Angela. I just want to see everyone together one last time.”
“You got it.” Harry returned soon with the entire team, all of them looking far worse than they had the last time they’d been in the room. Save for Angela, they all knew this would probably be the last time they saw Vince, unless the case was quick and Vince remained strong. He could see in their excruciated expressions that they didn’t think they would be that lucky, that this case had indeed come up at this time for a reason.
“Before I lose it completely,” Marshall said, fumbling over his words already, “would anyone mind if we all…joined hands for a prayer?”
Not a single person showed the least bit of hesitance. They all held the hands of the loved ones nearest, Harry and Angela flanking Vince and bowing their heads along with everyone else.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” Marshall started, “It’s hard to think of what to say at a time like this. Everybody’s in pain right now, in their own way. I think we all need somethin’ a little different from You. Some of us might need to know that it’s okay to cry. Some of us might need to know that…that we’ve made our peace with our good friend. And we all need to be reminded that he has eternity with You to look forward to. Whatever it is that each one of us needs, I ask that…that You give us that. Lord, please be with Angela, and with Mitch, as they stay by Vince’s side till the very end. And please be with Charlie. Never let him forget how much he’s loved. Most importantly, please make Your presence known to Vince until he sees You face-to-face. Give him the strength he needs, the courage he needs. Give him the words he needs. Help alleviate the pain he’s been putting up with tonight just so he could talk to his friends. Be with him, Lord. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
“Amen,” the rest murmured together, no one taking his or her hands away just yet. Sniffles and subdued cries sounded around the room for a while before there arose an unspoken but unanimous understanding that Vince was tired and the team needed to leave and let him rest. He could think of nothing specific he wanted to say that hadn’t already been said, so he let the crowd dissipate. There was no shortage of hugs, kisses, and proclamations of love. Harry was the last one in the room except for Angela. He, like everyone else, was finally crying with abandon. He sat on the edge of Vince’s bed, took his face between his hands, and kissed him on the forehead. “If you change your mind, and need any of us, you let me know. At the very least, I can come back, but I’d do my best to get Marshall and Sophie back, too.”
“I’ll be okay, but thank you,” Vince said with a straight face that fell apart when Harry embraced him one final time.
The last time Angela had seen Mitch, he had changed his mind about sticking around and said he was going to Jenna’s to get Charlie ready to come over. Angela had told him to wait for a call from her in case Vince needed rest after the team. That much was obvious now, so she didn’t call Mitch just yet. Instead she handed Vince a tissue and slid onto the bed, holding his body that collapsed under the relentless but rather quiet sobbing. With nothing else in her comforting repertoire, at least nothing for a sorrow on such a grand scale, she just rocked him in tiny motions until he sent himself into a coughing fit. The fit lasted so long that she almost left his side to call a nurse. He wouldn’t let her, though, and eventually his body lacked the strength to move anymore.
“That prayer was really sweet,” she said warmly once Vince caught his breath again as much as he could. “I guess I never knew Marshall was so…in touch with God. Last time I checked, he didn’t go to church.”
“People change,” Vince said.
Angela nodded. She felt she knew that better than anyone. “Do you still want Charlie to come tonight?” she asked cautiously after she got up and refilled the humidifier.
“Yeah, I need to see him, we need to read…” Vince whispered.
“I figured,” Angela said. She checked the nearest clock. “It’s not even seven yet. Want to take a nap before Charlie comes, or do you want me to have Mitch bring him over now? He went to Jenna’s. I think the team being here was a little weird for him.”
Vince was glad to hear that Mitch wasn’t aversive to being around Jenna voluntarily. He could’ve easily gone anywhere else, but he hadn’t. “Even…if I don’t sleep…I think I need…some rest first.”
“Okay. How’s your pain?”
Vince held up six fingers that should have been accompanied by two more and gave Angela a look that said he wasn’t going to cave just yet.
“Anything else I should know about? Anything I can get you?”
Vince was beginning to feel queasy, maybe from the flowers or maybe from a failing liver, but he simply shook his head. It wasn’t until he rested against Angela again, his eyes drooping shut, that he noticed the smell of her hair. He sniffed the air. “Your hair smells…different…”
“Ohh, gross, I’m sorry,” Angela moaned, not explaining. “I threw up in my hair. Why don’t you get some rest and I’ll go shower? I’ll leave the door open in case you need me and I’ll make it quick.”
But Vince shook his head. “Can you stay here instead?” It was a knee-jerk reaction, one he regretted instantly. He wanted Angela by his side, but the needier he was, the more she worried. And the more she worried, the more he hated himself.
“Of course.” She curled up next to him and helped him lie down on his side. “Try and get some sleep.” She cupped his cheek and planted a gentle kiss on his lips.
“Wait. You were throwing up?” Vince said, just now processing the words he’d heard. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
