As I sat with the magazine in my lap, flipping through the old Kardashian non-news of the day, wondering how much everything in my life might change before I had a nervous breakdown and when I should speak with an attorney, my phone pinged with a text from Andrew.
I’m here.
Okay. Come on up.
I’m in the hallway.
Then come on in.
The old, fleece sweatshirt and the flyaway nature of my hair didn’t worry me. Andrew didn’t care, and so many other things were more important. Like the fact that Theo was still in this hospital bed, unaware of the moving world around him, and that he had friends and family who would give anything to have him back on this side of consciousness. I included myself in that group of people. My love for Theo might not be the same as it used to be, but I certainly didn’t want to live in a world void of all things Theo, especially Theo, the person.
The door squeaked, and a rush of stale hospital air came into the room with Andrew; he shut it behind him, saying nothing as he looked my way. He pulled a chair over and lined it up with mine. His voice did not disturb the silence until I turned toward him, as if my movement acknowledged his existence and gave him permission to speak.
“Hey. Anything I can do? Anything at all?”
Andrew had already done so much. Brooke had told me a few weeks prior that Andrew had been stopping by the house when I was at the hospital, helping with the kids by taking them to the indoor playground or seeing that the homework was getting done before I got home. He’d been careful to explain his presence, reminding the kids he knew both their mom and dad and wanted to be helpful, to do something nice for the family, because we needed a little help.
“It’s obvious the kids enjoy his company and they love his kids. They’ve taken in the two new playmates almost as if...as if they’re siblings,” Brooke had said.
I had recoiled at her words. She didn’t outwardly admit to acknowledging my feelings for Andrew, but her insightful comment said a lot about a potential future. Approaching this subject with Andrew before now might have been the smart thing to do, but dammit, I was tired. Too tired to mess with a good thing.
But the time had come to pull myself out of the mud pit of my thoughts.
“Sadie?” Andrew tried again.
“Yeah, sorry. I was off in space.” I drew my right leg up toward my chest and hooked my arms around it, securing my body to the chair. Every inch of me craved restraint, something to anchor me to the place, as I was so close to trying to escape my life again.
Andrew leaned in and placed a hand to my face, which caused me to turn my head toward him. His warm fingers gave energy to my cool cheeks, but I wasn’t sure how to interpret the gesture.
“What’s wrong?” A look of concern clouded his eyes.
So many thoughts lined up, one behind the other. My conversation with Mom or thoughts about Theo. And the possible future—it weighed heavily on my mind.
“How did you meet Theo? And did you know he was connected to me?” Life had moved forward, and I hadn’t thought to ask for more details before.
Andrew drew back in his seat. “We met at the gym and hit it off. I’d see him a couple times a week, text every so often. We’ve even met at the Kennedy Grill a time or two. But I swear I had no idea he was part of your life.”
“And when he knocked on your mom’s door and punched you, why didn’t you call me? I texted you.”
Andrew inhaled and looked away. “I was embarrassed. We were friends, almost. But had I realized he was hung up on you, well, I’d have walked away.”
“And now? What about now? What are your motives—”
Andrew narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. “My motives? What are you talking about?”
The din of the hospital rang in the background, grinding into my head. “Sorry, sorry. That came out a bit...not how I intended. But you’ve been coming over to my house, taking care of my kids...”
Frustration flared in Andrew’s eyes. “I’m just trying to help. I run my own business, and I have the time to help. Plus, I like kids. I like Theo. I like you.”
“Ditto. Is that a problem?”
“Is it?”
The next words to come out of my mouth would make all the difference. My breath hitched as I stumbled over them. “Remember when you said that bit about us being right, but it wasn’t the right time? Theo is barely holding onto life in there, and I...he’s not what he used to be to me but...that’s what I need to concentrate on, okay?”
Andrew’s thumb traced the line of my jaw. “Okay. I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you, and that’s the truth. I want to help and dealing with the kids is the one thing I can do to help you. You should be here with Theo.”
“Do you mean it?”
“I do,” he said, his face stoic and serene, in sharp contrast to my inner turmoil and the bustling of the hospital staff out in the hallways.
Andrew’s lack of emotion cut into my heart and soul, but I believed what he said. After all these months, it wasn’t just attraction that connected us. He was my friend, a good friend. And he’d be more, if I said the word. I owed him something, didn’t I? A word or two, an explanation?
“I hadn’t planned this, Andrew. My world turned upside down the day we met at the store. Do you realize that?” My hands shook as the moment in June, only half a year earlier, flickered in my mind. “A simple conversation in a grocery store line busted up the life I thought I had, the life I thought I was content with.” I placed my hand on Andrew’s arm and lowered my voice level. “Let’s be clear here. I’m not blaming you at all. But I am saying all that has happened since then, our frequent encounters, our texts, our learning about one another, our admissions, realizing my situation isn’t quite working for me, the fact that I have wanted you through all that...everything has led me to the conclusion I need to be accountable for my life, but also that I...I am one fucked-up woman.”
Andrew opened his mouth to say something, but I held up my hand to stop him. I had to be selfish, to let the words flow, to find a cathartic release in the moment lingering with the near silence. He sat there, almost still, dropping his hand to my back and then my waist, pulling me toward his warmth, toward him. Barely touching me and yet touching me all the same. Unspoken words appeared in his eyes, and while I wasn’t sure if he meant to let me see them, I did. I can take care of you, the words said. If you let me.
. . . . .
Andrew must have contacted Jackie because hours later, long after he had left me to my thoughts, she tiptoed into Theo’s hospital room, pulled me into her arms, and handed me a letter.
“I’m not here because of this letter,” Jackie said. “But Brooke told me to give it to you. Looks like it’s from Rick and Laura.”
Too few positive messages had come to me lately written on stationery like this, and I feared what lurked inside. Would they judge Theo for his actions? Even though I had judged him, I wasn’t sure I’d survive reading a letter full of condemnation.
“I know what happened, and Rick and Laura have always served as rays of hope. Open the letter. It might make you feel better.”
Turning my back to Jackie, I pushed my finger underneath the envelope’s flap before extracting a square of blue paper. The writing—the product of a steady hand—was Laura’s, but Rick had signed the letter from them both. My gaze found Jackie’s. “These two are such beautiful examples for all of us, working in concert together, all the time. If only...” My sentence hovered, unfinished. Instead, I lowered my body into a waiting chair and attempted to read the words swimming before my eyes.
Dear Theo and Sadie,
Thank you for contacting us and for being so hone
st about the situation. If we could, we’d head down for a visit. But with the weather forecast being what it is, it isn’t possible at this moment. Theo and you and the children are in every thought we have. We hope, so much, that Theo pulls through this trying time.
Sadie, I also want to say that what Theo did has indeed crossed my mind before. When I was given the diagnosis, my first thought was I had been handed a life sentence, and I wouldn’t see my children grow up and have grandchildren. I’d have to leave Laura behind before I was ready because I wouldn’t be able to live with PTSD. But something in me made me want to stay and fight, and I’m not sure I can even articulate what that something is. If I could bottle it, I’d send it down to you and Theo in a heartbeat.
If there is anything we can do to help you right now, please let us know. We are only a phone call away.
With much love and hope,
Rick and Laura
I read the letter twice and then folded the piece of paper over and stuffed it back into its envelope, hoping Theo would one day be able to read it himself. Drained of energy, I crumbled against Jackie and clung to her as if my life depended upon it.
“I’ll talk when I’m ready,” I said into my friend’s shoulder.
“Okay, Sadie. But I’m dragging you to the cafeteria. A change of scenery, even a small one, will be good for you.”
The slap of our shoes against the squeaky tile floor of the hospital distracted me from noticing much about our entrance into the cafeteria. To my surprise and delight, Kate and Pickles Martin sat at one of the old Formica-covered tables. My mood lifted the moment Pickles and I made eye contact, and I hugged the older lady with strong arms, not letting go for what had to be at least a minute. When I pulled back, Pickles smiled, took my hand, and escorted me to one of the coffee kiosks.
I filled my paper cup to the halfway mark with the hospital-grade decaffeinated brew and then poured in strong, regular coffee. Pickles fiddled with her tea bag and returned to the table as I splashed the cream into the cup, covered it with a plastic lid, and extracted a tall coffee stirrer from the container. The line behind me was mounting, so without looking at my beverage, I went back to the table the ladies had secured.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” I said as I pulled out a chair and placed a hand on Kate’s back. “This’ll taste so good today. It’s been too cold around here, and the warmth is lovely.” Peeling back the lid of the coffee, I plunged the stirrer into the cup. To my horror, large chunks of curdled cream floated on top of the coffee, like miniature icebergs. I grimaced, and pushed the cup toward my friends, all of whom leaned back with pained looks on their faces.
“Ewww, you better go get another one,” Pickles said.
With a huff in my heavy steps, I emptied the cup in the trash and progressed through the same motions again, filling the paper cup with coffee and pouring in the cream. For the second time, the cream curdled, a sickly ivory against the sea of brown. Annoyed with a simple act that went so wrong, I sat at the table and sighed.
“You can ask them to replace the cream,” Jackie said as she glanced into the cup I should have, but hadn’t yet, thrown away. “Actually, you should ask them to replace the cream. That,” she waved her fingers in the direction of the offending cup, “is just awful.”
I shook my head and chuckled. “I know. I will.” I rotated the cup sitting before me and scrutinized how the chunks swirled and bobbed in the brown liquid. The cream had one job—make bitter coffee smoother and richer—but it was tainted. Like me. The cream was me: I, too, had a job to do, but I wasn’t certain how to take care of my family at this point. My mind turned somersaults while my dear friends sat and waited for me.
“You okay, honey? What can I do?” Pickles leaned in, a frown on her face, a light touch from her fingers to mine.
“I’m okay...doing the best I can. But...”
“But what?”
“But...” Somehow, the normal clamor of the hospital seemed to fade away as I unpacked everything bothering me. Confused but stoic much of the time since the previous June, when I’d envisioned something different and wasn’t sure what I wanted, I’d done a decent job hiding behind almost anything. But there, in the hospital cafeteria, despite the muddled appearance of my coffee, or because of it, everything came to a head and somehow, a clarity descended on me.
I’d always been the sort of person who, once I’d articulated something, moved forward. And at this point, I’d spoken to all the people involved in my melodrama and those who stood on the periphery. Venting, purging, clearing my thoughts—all done. Though there were words left unsaid between Theo and me, I had to decipher the right path for me and follow it because I might have three kids to love and raise, all by myself.
My view of Jackie, Pickles, and Kate, women I was so lucky to have found, showed three beautiful and strong souls I could choose to emulate. I would take the best of everything and everyone in my life, mix in a dash of hope, and make progress toward a life worth living.
Somehow, my rumination over curdled cream had shown me the way, and I wasn’t torn any longer. Yes, I loved Andrew. Even though I hadn’t spent much time with the man, something within his being spoke to me so loudly and clearly, I’d love a piece of him forever, if possible. On the other hand, though, I also knew I’d always love Theo, even if our life had taken a detour and turned into something so unexpected. Two different kinds of love, but I was deserving of them both.
I didn’t tell my friends of my epiphany, simply because of a need to protect my heart. It had been repeatedly attacked and wounded and would take a long time to heal. Instead, after unloading myself and a cursory “Thank you and I’ll see you soon,” I returned to the hospital room, clear-headed and content.
After settling into the chair next to Theo’s bed, I pulled his letter out of my pocket. The one Theo had written, explaining his reasons for doing what he’d done. Finding sympathy for the place Theo was when he wrote the letter was easy, and I could forgive him. But would he forgive me before he passed through to the great beyond? Dishonesty and I had played together too much in the past, and had I any respect for him or for myself, I would have approached Theo the moment I felt the draw for Andrew. Hell, I should have said something when I noticed we had become he and I. What if I had pushed him to sign the papers earlier? But just like I hadn’t wanted my life to be a series of if-then statements, dwelling on the what-ifs of life would accomplish nothing.
I stroked Theo’s lifeless arm and brushed my fingers against his wan cheeks. Tears dropped against my face, and I sat there, my mind tangled in everything that had transpired in the last year. Back when I’d watched Clara for Jackie and Pete, I had yearned to be free of so many responsibilities of my life, including Theo. Now, I was reminded of Jonathan Stroud, one of Charlie’s favorite authors, who had once written, “Freedom is an illusion. It always comes at a price.” If only we understood the price before we had to pay it.
Leaning in close to Theo’s ear, I told him how much I missed him, and I hoped he had found his freedom and his peace too. “I at least need to tell you I don’t want you to go, Theo. I want you here, with us, in some capacity.”
Reaching for his hand, I turned his fingers over against mine. The translucence of his skin worried me, as did the dryness of his palm. I traced the lines there, musing about his long lifeline and wondering how many years he’d have lived, had he not attempted to leave this earth. My tears fell onto Theo’s bedsheets when I thought about how much history we had together.
My lips brushed against his cheek. “And I was wrong. Yes, we were both to blame for letting our relationship drift, and our future might not be together the way we had once imagined, but we need you. Come back...please.”
Of course, Theo didn’t respond, and I sat there for a fe
w moments, savoring the silence, trying to find clarity in what wasn’t being offered. And right then, realization descended: If he didn’t wake up, I’d always keep him tucked away in my heart in a special place only he’d inhabit. If he did wake up, I’d keep him tucked away in my life in a suitable way for everyone.
. . . . .
The next morning, stationed in my usual spot next to Theo’s bed, the doctor on duty arrived to speak to me.
“It might be time to talk about what to do with Theo.” The doctor pulled up the chair next to me. “He’s languishing. How long are you going to let him do that?”
His words twanged in my ears, but they formed a valid point too. Should I let him languish? What would Theo have chosen? But I wanted no hand in Theo’s demise. Instead, I wanted him to die a noble death, not the one he had decided, shrouded in whispers and secrecy.
Words escaped me, and I simply shook my head as heat bloomed in my cheeks and acid surged in my belly. The doctor rose, patted me on the shoulder, and walked away without a sound. I sat for a long time, willing myself to calm, listening to the sounds of the hospital staff as they chatted about the breakfast offerings and flavored coffees, the squeal of the medical cart wheels, and the swish and whisper of the automatic doors. Sniffing, I pulled my sweater around myself, wishing for guidance from somewhere. When I couldn’t stand any longer to be there, I texted my mom.
Gotta run home. Can you come be with Theo? I don’t want him to be alone.
Sure thing. Give me twenty minutes.
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