by Skyla Madi
But Cassia is right. If I leave now and something happens to Agnes…
I squash the thought and look at Susan. “I'll behave. Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” she deadpans.
“Sarcasm isn’t a cute look for you.” Cursing, Cassia stomps past me toward Agnes’s isolated room. I turn to follow her. “And for God’s sake, choose between brunette or blonde. You can’t be both. It looks ridiculous.”
Susan rolls her eyes, but her face heats with an angry blush. “I'll be sure to let my hairdresser know.”
“Fire her while you’re at it.”
“Caleb!” Cassia shouts.
Out of my peripheral, she throws her hands in the air, and I attempt to turn away, but Susan steps forward, refusing to let me get the last word.
“You know, in Agnes’s stories, she paints you as an angel…but you’re a terrible human being.”
My lips quirk, and I lift my shoulder a little. “Then all is right with the world.”
She takes another step closer to me, her glare penetrating, her expression as hard as stone. “If it’s true and you’re all she has, I feel sorry for her.”
Behind me, Cassia inhales sharply, and I absorb my flinch. That…that actually fucking hurts to hear, but I can attest. If all I had was me, I’d feel sorry for myself too. Hell, I’m sorry for every second Cassia is stuck with me.
“And it took you long enough to get here. She’s asked where you are every day. Given her condition, you’re lucky she’s still alive. God has performed miracles for this reunion to happen. It’s shame those miracles are wasted on someone like you.”
My upper lip twitches as she pours more salt into my wound. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”
Susan folds her arms over her chest. “Thank God for that.”
This bitch. Squaring my shoulders, I turn away from the nurse and storm toward Agnes’s room. I can feel Susan’s smug glare burning holes in the back of my head as I walk, and it takes everything in me not to turn around and flip her off like an immature middle schooler. Unfamiliar twinges of guilt prick in my chest. As much as is it kills me to admit it, Susan had every right to assert her authority. I admire her for it, despite our friction. These are her halls, her patients. Their health and safety is her top priority. Screw any asshole that comes in here and says any different. Me included. Still, I’m petty and stubborn, and Susan is still a giant bitch.
Cassia falls into step beside me as I reach Agnes’s door.
“That was a disaster,” she murmurs from underneath her mouth cover.
“Understatement.” I put my face mask on, grab the metal door handle, and slide it open.
The second I step into Agnes’s room, the air changes. It’s…heavy. Strange. Different. It’s as if gravity is denser, pushing down on me. The base of my spine aches under the pressure. Or maybe it’s all in my head.
Cassia closes the door behind us. It’s silent in the room, save for the beeps and squeaks of machines coming from behind a pale blue curtain. I pause two feet from it and wait for Cass to stand beside me. When she does, I take her hand and squeeze it tightly. I feel better. Marginally. She flicks her thumb over my hand repeatedly, then pulls free and nudges me forward. My heart races in my chest. The last time I saw Agnes, she was healthy, vibrant, and funny. That’s my memory of her. I don’t want to tarnish it with whatever’s waiting for me on the other side…but I have to see her. I hold my breath and pinch the curtain in my fingers. The hooks screech against metal as I pull the fabric aside. My gaze immediately falls on the frail old woman in the bed. Her gray curls are flat, her pale skin almost transparent, definitely gaunt. Wires, tubes, and cords protrude from under her blankets, out from her hospital gown, and out of her skin. My throat thickens, my chest aches. Groaning, she lifts a frail hand and covers her mouth to cough. I watch as her face twists in pain and her body shakes. Damn it, Agnes.
“I’m home. You can drop the act now,” I say, taking a few steps closer.
I pause a few feet from the bed, unsure how close I’m allowed to get. I want to grab her by her tiny shoulders and shake her for underplaying how she really felt before I left. I never would’ve gone to New York otherwise. I would’ve settled to win Cassia back at a later date. I’d have done that for Agnes. I’d have suffered for her. Without a doubt.
Agnes’s eyelids flutter open and find me immediately. Lowering her hand, her thin, dry lips pull into a wide smile and, under the dim lighting, her eyes glisten. “Caleb?”
Her voice is weak and quiet. It doesn’t bring me comfort like usual. This time, it fills me with panic. She doesn’t sound good, and I…I don’t know how to help.
“You don’t have to talk,” I tell her. “Don’t strain yourself.”
She waves me off, lolling her head from side to side. “H-hogwash and take that ridiculous th-th-thing off your f-face. I want to see you.”
“It’s to prevent infec—”
“I already h-have an infection,” she rasps, wincing. I yank the cover off my face, tossing it to the floor. “I-if anything, whatever you’ve got will speed things up and I can finally die in p-peace.” Agnes touches a hand to her chest, then pats the bed beside her, gesturing for me to sit. I do. “They’re trying their h-hardest to keep me alive. Can you believe it?”
I cringe at the pain in her face as she speaks. They cut her open a few times, performed surgery on her heart despite her age, and she’s declining strong pain killers. She must feel like shit.
“It’s their job.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, why can’t t-they be useless at their jobs? Like e-everyone else in the v-v-valley.”
By “everyone else,” she means Grayson, the mailman. Occasionally, he gives mail addressed to her to her neighbor by mistake. It drives her mad. I smile. “I’ve missed you.”
Her expression softens, and I warm from the inside out.
“I’ve m-missed you too.” Touching my arm, she rubs me gently. “I’m glad I got to see you.” She glances over my shoulder at Cass, who stands by the foot of the bed. “Cassia, too. Hi, love.”
Cassia pulls off her mouth cover, showing her full, beautiful face, and offers Agnes a small, gentle wave. “Hello.”
I look back to Agnes, and my face must show how gloomy I feel inside because her kind smile fades and she averts her attention to the window, like a guilty puppy.
“You told me you were fine, Aggy. This isn’t fine. This is the exact opposite of fine.”
“Oh, hush. I felt fine at the time. Still do.”
I shake my head. This old woman is as stubborn as me—if not worse. I don’t point out that she looks like she’s been hit by a truck or that the only reason she’s alive is because of surgery, the current mess of wires and tubes, and the medicine they’re pumping her full of. Agnes is far from fine, and I hate I didn’t know sooner. If she’d been honest with me, I could’ve helped her, but this is who she is. She’s always sticking her neck out for me and going out of her way to help me whenever I need it, but when the tables are turned, she refuses help for herself. Her house could be burning down and she’d tell the fire brigade not to worry about putting it out just to save them the trouble. Agnes puts so much value on everyone else, but none on herself, and it’s sad because I value her immensely.
“I hope you haven’t been too lonely without me,” I say, letting the topic of her health go.
She’s not dumb. She knows exactly how bad her condition is. She can feel it every time she speaks—hell—probably every time her heart beats. She’s suffering enough at the hands of her own health. I don’t need to berate her for it.
Angus’s clouded, tired stare finds my face, and I worry my visit is already exhausting her, but for me, just for me, she still manages a slight smirk even though fatigue is clearly engraved on her worn face. “It’s been…quiet. Peaceful.”
“Peaceful, huh?” I simper. “How’s Philip?”
Her eyebrows shoot to her hairline, and she balks. Color rushes in
to her sunken cheeks and, to my surprise, she laughs heartily, clenching her body in pain. I curse and reach out, regretting the question I meant only in jest. Christ. I don’t want to kill her.
“How in t-the world sh-should I know?” she demands, stammering and wincing, trying to swat my hands away.
I glance over at Cassia. “Philip’s her boyfriend. He lives next door to her.”
Blush swells in Cassia’s cheeks, and she chuckles, glancing down at her feet.
“Ack!” Agnes’s hand hits my bicep with a weak tap. “If I had the strength, I’d slap you g-good.”
I laugh only to be cut off by a loud knocking sound on glass. I frown at the closed blinds against the window facing the hall. Cassia’s already crossing the room to it before I think about lifting myself off the bed. Twisting the plastic pole, the blinds separate to reveal…fucking Susan and her irritating face. She gestures for me to put my face mask on. Grinning, I wave at her instead. She signs to me, an angry flurry with her hands, and I think she’s threatening to call security on me. That or she’s begging for an angry quickie in the medical supply closet. It could be either of those, to be honest. She does give off an angry sex vibe.
“H-have you met Susan? S-she’s an absolute s—”
“Cunt.” I interject. “Yeah. I’ve met her.”
Cassia snorts, but not Agnes. She doesn’t find it funny at all.
“Caleb!” she hisses.
I look at her. “What?”
“Susan’s b-been good to me.”
I lift my shoulder with a shrug. Everyone’s nice to Agnes since she’s usually a damn sweetheart. Apparently, I’m not as lovable as I thought I was. Turns out, I’m more of an acquired taste. “Well, she’s been a cu—”
“If y-y-you say that word o-one more time, I swear to G-God I’ll yank these wires out of me and choke you with th-them.”
I cringe, hating the heavy accents of pain in her tone. I shouldn’t keep making her speak so much. She needs to rest and recover. “Cow. She was a cow to me. Happy?”
“Were you one f-f-first?”
“No.”
“Yes,” Cassia interjects, closing the blinds on a scowling Susan. Whose side is she on?
I roll my eyes. “Agnes. You know me.”
“I do know you.”
“Would I ever—”
“I have a bad heart, not A-Alzheimer’s. You’re a cunt, Caleb.” Cassia and I gasp at her blasé use of the “C” word. “And proudly so.”
I smirk and lean closer to Agnes. “Good luck getting into Heaven now, you heathen.”
Chuckling under her breath, Agnes shifts in her bed and lets her eyes fall shut as if she’s suddenly too tired to keep them open. “Y-you think so?”
I hum my agreement. I hate that she keeps her eyes closed. I can’t help but imagine her in her casket, her eyes closed, her face as gaunt as it is now. I want her to open them. I want to see the life in her before…well…before it goes away.
“You’re gonna be slumming it in hell with the rest of us sinners.” I nudge her, but her lids don’t budge. My heart twists painfully in my chest.
She sighs wearily. “I’ve put up with you since you were a b-boy. God owes me o-o-one.” Agnes opens her eyes and scowls at the ceiling. “D-Damn this s-speech!”
“It’s okay. You’re doing good.” I touch her arm. “Stuttering is a good look for you. Think about all the sympathy jellies you can get from the nurse.”
Her lips twitch, but she doesn’t respond. I caress her arm until she closes her eyes again; this time she falls into a deep sleep. Two hours in, Cassia leaves to find a café. Susan comes and goes but never spares a glance in my direction as she does whatever she needs to do to keep Agnes alive and kicking. I expect her to bring security with her, but she doesn’t. On her fourth visit, Susan looks at me and, dare I say, it’s kind. She administers a heavy pain medication and tells me Agnes signed her right to choose away to Bree. Agnes refuses medication, but Bree makes sure it’s given every few hours. Agnes is none the wiser since she spends most her time asleep. When she’s done, Susan hands me a mask and leaves the room. As the door closes, Agnes’s eyelids flutter open and her gaze focuses on my face.
“You’re still here?”
“I’ve got nowhere to be.”
A white lie. I told Cassia I’d take her to the fair, but how can I up and leave Agnes while she’s sleeping? Thankfully, the fair is open until late, and Cass and I have no other commitments.
Agnes’s stare is sad and watery as she flicks her gaze over my face. “I wish you weren’t here. You should be in New York, focusing on your life—on your wedding. Not sitting in this stale hospital room with me.”
I notice, she doesn’t stutter in pain as she speaks. “I’m here because I want to be. You’re one of the most important people in my life, Aggy.”
She tilts her head, looking like a lost chihuahua I want to stuff inside Cassia’s giant handbag and keep safe. Bree told me to say my goodbyes, in a roundabout way, just in case Agnes’s heart gives out under the pressure of the infection and the recovery, but I’m not saying goodbye. This isn’t goodbye. God performs miracles all the time and, like she said, he fucking owes her.
“When we get you home, no more bacon, all right? And we can go for those evening walks you like so much, and—”
“Caleb.” She closes her hand over mine. Her features are dominated by a profound sadness. “I’m not leaving this hospital alive. We both know it.”
I flinch and shake my head, brushing her comment off. “Don’t talk like that. I know you’re scared, but—”
“Scared?” She laughs, her eyes crinkling around the edges. “I’m not scared of dying, Caleb. I’ve lived twenty years longer than I wanted to.”
“So then what’s another twenty to you?”
“Another twenty is torture.” Her eyebrows lift and curve. “I’m ready to go. Now that I know you’re happy, that you have someone who loves you as fiercely as I do, I’m content with whatever happens. I-I don’t…” She gingerly clears her throat. “I don’t feel good. I don’t feel myself getting better. I’m dying, and it’s okay.”
Her words push every other emotion from my being, leaving me with an aching hollowness that grows larger with every breath. The thought of having to say goodbye to this woman is as painful as death by a thousand paper cuts, or a million pin pricks.
“Can I give you some marriage advice? Since I don’t think I’ll make it to your wedding.”
I pull back, resigned to tell her the truth. I’m not getting married. Cassia and I haven’t even had a conversation about where we go from here. “Agnes—”
“Shut up for a minute.” She taps my hand. “Do you remember when you told me you didn’t deserve her? That you would only make her life miserable?”
“Yeah.”
“You should know a wife becomes the reflection of her husband. If you’re miserable, angry, and hateful toward her, you will get it right back, but if you love her, cherish her, strive for happiness every day, she will take it, become it, and build your home on that foundation.” She coughs and her hand clenches against mine, her body tightening. When it passes, Agnes eases and tips her head in my direction. “You deserve a happy home, but you have to believe you deserve it. Then, and only then, God will provide.”
I glance down at her hand on mine as guilt twists my stomach. I don’t tell her I don’t believe in God. I don’t tell her I’m not getting married any time soon either. My damned soul and non-existent nuptials are the last things she needs to worry about.
“Hey.” She drums her fingers against my hand. “You’re gonna do just fine without me.”
Agnes says it with such conviction it’s hard not to believe her, but as she dozes into another sleep and Cassia and I leave the hospital—after Susan insisted visiting hours were long over—there’s no denying the feel of impending doom deep down inside me. I’ll do fine without her, I know that, but I’ll never be fine. Something will always be missi
ng—a huge part of who I am will always be missing. Agnes would advise me to turn to God from here on out, but I’ve never found peace speaking to a faceless, voiceless man in the sky. Whenever I’m in doubt, I turn to her. She tells me all I need to hear, convinces me life will go on and it will get better. It wasn’t God who helped me through the darkest parts of my life. It wasn’t God who’d talk me off the ledge when all I wanted was to end my life. It was Agnes.
I owe her everything…
…and I’ve given her nothing.
Chapter Fourteen
C A S S I A
It’s late by the time we make it to the fair. After the hospital, Caleb was exhausted and needed a small reprieve, so he took us home. There, he slept for a couple of hours while I watched half a season of an angsty, teenage vampire show on Netflix. When he woke, he was ready to go to the fair. I was happy to skip it altogether since the sun had begun to set and temperature to plummet, but he wasn’t having it, so here we are. I glance up at the white fairy lights that wrap around the trees and hang overhead the games alley. Against the inky sky, the lights twinkle like bright stars. It’s the perfect winter’s evening to be at the Maricopa County Winter Fair, and because of the flawless weather conditions, despite the cold, it’s busier than I expected. At the gates of most rides, long queues snake outward for yards and slowly edge forward every few minutes when the scream-inducing ride comes to an end. Thankfully, it’s quieter in the games alley.
“For you,” Caleb sings, holding out another brightly colored teddy, this one a neon pink with white soles, and it clutches a big red love heart.
Smiling, I take the teddy and add it to the four I can barely carry in my arms. Turns out, Caleb is insanely good at fair games. I wrinkle my nose as blue teddy bear fur tickles its tip, and I tilt my chin higher to see over its big round head. I know everything Caleb’s doing is to make up for how much time we spent in the hospital today. It’s unnecessary, I told him it was, but he insists on spoiling me no matter my protests. I’m here in Paradise Valley for him, to support him. If he wants to spend twenty-four-seven in the hospital with Agnes, that’s fine with me.