by Jewel E. Ann
She shakes her head. “Bathroom. He hasn’t had a bowel movement in two weeks. He’s miserable, and in his words completely emasculated since he needs help from me to get on and off the toilet.”
I cringe. “I’m surprised Bodhi hasn’t hired an in-home nurse to help take care of him. At least he’d feel like it was a professional helping him instead of the neighbor slash wife of his business manager.”
“I don’t think they can afford it. That’s why they’ve tried to sell the ranch numerous times, but they’ve never gotten an offer that would allow them a new place to live and enough left over for extra care.”
“Don’t they have health insurance?”
“I can see you’ve never paid for any of your health expenses.”
Now I feel like the sheltered princess on the hill. I have no idea how much chemo costs, or health insurance, or private in-home care. Maybe I’ve purchased clothing from thrift shops, but I’ve never paid an actual bill for something like a doctor’s visit. “No.” I frown. My mom asked if they needed help paying for expenses. Stupid, naive me said no.
Barrett’s weak, defeated voice calls from the bathroom.
I start to follow Etta.
“I’ve got it. He hates when you see him like this.”
I nod, stopping at the living room and folding my arms over my chest. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt so helpless and insecure. So … young.
Etta helps Barrett out of the bathroom. He greets me with a grimace.
“Hey.”
“Morning, darling.”
Darling. That’s what Zach has always called me. I don’t want Barrett to call me darling. I can’t let someone die who calls me that name. It will feel like letting Zach or my dad die.
“I’m going to change the bedsheets. Maybe Henna can get you some oatmeal?”
Barrett doesn’t respond. I’m sure he’s not hungry or can’t imagine putting food into his body if it won’t come out.
“Yes. I’ll get him some oatmeal.”
Etta nods after giving Barrett a long look that’s not met with any sort of eye contact. When she’s in the bedroom, I nod toward the kitchen and Barrett follows me.
“Is it the money?” I dish up a small bowl of oatmeal for him.
When I turn back to him, he holds a scowl of confusion. “Money?”
“If money weren’t an issue, if you could go anywhere in the world to get the best doctors, the best treatment, if you could have a male in-home nurse to take care of you, if you didn’t have to think about selling the ranch or inconveniencing anyone financially or in any other way … would you still want to die?”
His eyes widen as he grunts a laugh and gives me a knowing nod. “Your mom saw me yesterday and offered to save me?”
“No. I don’t know if you can be saved. No one is guaranteed their next breath, not even if they have all the money in the world.” I shrug. “My mom and stepdad don’t have all the money in the world, but they have a lot of it. They would move heaven and earth for me. Your son is my heaven and earth, and you’ve become part of my world too. You have children who love you. If you want to experience as much of this life with them as possible, then let’s try. Let me get you the resources. Don’t allow your guilt or pride to stand in the way.”
Barrett adjusts in his chair, a grimace distorting his face.
“Need help?” I walk toward him and halt when he buckles at the waist and vomits bile and blood onto himself.
“Etta!” I grab a towel.
Barrett coughs and coughs. “He’s choking!”
Etta runs into the kitchen. She grabs his shoulder to help lift his torso. Her gaze shoots to me as I stand frozen, holding the towel. “Call 9-1-1.”
My head nods half a dozen times.
“Barrett? Barrett?” She lifts him, but he slouches to the side, eyes rolling back in his head. “Henna!”
I jump.
“Call 9-1-1, now!”
Dropping the towel, I run to my bag, collapse onto my knees, and fumble with frantic hands to find my phone. Tears burn my eyes as I dial the three numbers.
After they arrive and he’s loaded into the ambulance, Etta grabs my arm as I stand idle watching, wondering if he’s alive, if he’s going to be okay.
“Are you coming? Duke and I are following the ambulance.”
I nod, not finding a word to say.
“Did you call Bodhi?” she asks as Duke pulls up to the house in his old truck.
“No,” I whisper.
“I’ll call him.” Etta ushers me to the truck where I climb in the middle.
Duke gives me a sympathetic smile.
Life feels like it’s in slow motion. It’s how I felt right after I regained consciousness after my accident. Sometimes life packs a punch so hard it’s disorienting.
“He wants to die.” My gaze affixes to the ambulance lights in front of us as we pull down the long drive.
Maybe they didn’t hear me.
“Bodhi, it’s Etta. When you get this message call me. It’s your dad. They’re taking him to the hospital.” She blows out a shaky breath. “He’s not answering his phone. I’ll call the school and see if someone can get him.”
“Gail.”
“What did you say?” Etta touches my leg.
I don’t blink. If I blink the lights will disappear. Barrett will disappear. But that’s what he wants. Right?
“Gail Rafferty.” My own voice echoes in my head like this is not real. Like I’m in a dream or like life is just getting bad reception. “Tell her Mr. Malone’s dad is dying.” My voice sounds robotic. My pulse feels sluggish.
“Don’t say that, Henna. He’ll be fine.” Etta holds the phone up to her ear and asks for Gail Rafferty.
I don’t know why I said that. Whoever answers the phone can walk to his office and tell him there’s an emergency. Maybe I want Gail to know that Bodhi’s dad is dying and what she did to us only added grief to the stress in his life. For what?
I hate her.
And I hate how slow the ambulance is driving in front of us. Is he dead? No need to jeopardize any more lives if he’s already dead.
“Here.” Etta hands me a tissue. “He’s going to be fine. We have to believe that.”
I stare at the tissue that feels rough in my hand. Why do I need this tissue? That’s when I see something drip onto my arm. My hand slowly touches my face. I’m crying. Why am I still crying? It’s what Barrett wanted.
When we get to the hospital, they take Barrett into the emergency room. He looks so lifeless on the gurney. They won’t tell us anything because we’re not family, so we wait in the waiting room until Bodhi arrives.
Duke nudges me as I stare at the coffee stain on the tightly looped gray carpet in the waiting room. I look up as Bodhi runs through the entrance, straight to the desk. The lady nods, then shakes her head, says a few words, looks at her computer screen, and finally gives him a pathetic smile while pointing to the waiting room.
A grave expression steals his handsome face. I feel paralyzed for several seconds, unsure of what my place is at this moment. Does he need me? Do I sit in the corner and let the grownups figure things out? As he walks toward us, looking only at me, I know where I belong.
Standing, I meet him halfway and wrap my arms around him. We don’t say anything. That’s the thing with us: we don’t need anything but each other. When life hits us hard, we find sanctuary right here.
I don’t know how long we stand here. We have a way of making time stand still.
“Mr. Malone?”
Bodhi releases me and turns toward the brunette in green scrubs and a white coat.
“You can see your father now.”
“Thank you.”
“Just family for now.” She holds her hand up to me.
Without a single second of pause, Bodhi takes my hand. “She’s my wife.”
I swallow hard as my mind goes back to that day on the snowy trail over two years ago when I asked Bodhi to marry me. It was
spontaneous and desperate, but he probably never knew it was equally sincere. I know he just called me his wife so I could see his dad with him, but my heart can’t find a normal rhythm now because it wants those words to be true.
“Okay. Follow me.” The doctor leads us back to the ER and a room behind a heavy metal door where Barrett is hooked up to several monitors with an oxygen tube in his nose.
“Jesus …” Bodhi whispers, releasing my hand and taking cautious steps to the side of his dad’s bed.
I pinch the bridge of my nose to ward off the tears that burn my eyes. Barrett looks dead, but his heart monitor beeping says otherwise. When Bodhi touches his hand, Barrett’s heavy eyes blink partially open.
“Let me go,” his dad rasps.
I draw in a shaky breath and turn my back to them and the doctor at the door because these burning tears need out so badly.
“This is bottom. Okay.” Bodhi attempts to infuse optimism into his words. “There’s nowhere to go but up. We’ve got this.”
I continue to swipe away my tears. Maybe I don’t want to be the fake wife in this room. The real girlfriend made to stay in the waiting room would be much easier on my heart. The doctor makes her way to the other side of the bed. I rotate again to keep everyone from seeing how much I suck at being brave.
“So here’s what’s going on …” The doctor shares very grim news, and that’s just from less than an hour in the ER. She recommends an immediate consultation with Barrett’s medical and surgical oncologists.
I tune out the rest and think of happy things, funny things, and sexy things about Bodhi. I think about getting high and painting while the music is so loud it shakes my canvas when the chorus hits its peak. Eventually, the tears dry and I bring myself to turn around again just as the doctor leaves the room.
Bodhi’s moved a chair next to his dad’s bed. He glances over at me and frowns while his brows knit together. My tears are done, but I’m sure my eyes are red and a little puffy. He holds out his hand. I press my lips together to keep the rest of myself held together as I take his hand. Bodhi pulls me onto his lap so I’m right next to Barrett’s bed.
“Those tears…” Barrett starts to speak, but his voice is weak “…better not be for me.”
I shake my head, swallowing past a lump in my throat.
“Once the doctor comes back with the prescription, we can go. Tomorrow we’ll meet with the oncologists.”
Barrett doesn’t respond to Bodhi. He just stares at me with pleading eyes.
“Did you call Bella?” Barrett asks.
“No.”
“You’d better call her, Son. If she finds out, she’ll be mad no one told her.”
Bodhi sighs.
“Go call her now. Leave me to chat with my girl here.”
I glance around at Bodhi. He waits as if I need to give him permission.
“Go. We’ll be fine.” I kiss the corner of his mouth.
He nods and I stand to let him leave then sit back in the chair next to Barrett.
“It’s time, darling.”
He really needs to stop calling me that. It’s too personal. The last thing I need to do is get more personal with a man who his hell-bent on dying.
“If your offer still stands.”
I’ve recently made more than one offer. “Which offer?”
“I need some money.”
My body relaxes. He’s choosing to fight this. After what I saw just a couple of hours ago and the grave tone of the ER doctor’s voice, I’m cautiously optimistic about his chances. But Bodhi wants him to fight, so if he’s willing to do this for his son, I’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen.
“I’ll call my mom as soon as we leave. She knows a lot of people. We’ll get you in with the best doctors and make sure you have everything you need at home, including someone qualified to tend to all of your needs. And—”
“Darling,” he cuts me off, “that’s not why I need the money.”
“Oh?” I squint.
“I need a special medication. It’s expensive. It also requires two physicians to agree that I can take it. An oral request. A written request.” He coughs a few times and adjusts his oxygen tube. “A two week waiting period. But I not only need the money for the prescription; I need you to help me find the right doctors.”
“But you have doctors. Two oncologists who are supposed to see you tomorrow.”
He eases his head side to side. “This is a faith-based hospital.”
“I … I don’t understand.”
“It’s time. It’s past time. I need doctors who believe I should have the right to die with as much dignity as possible, which…” he frowns “…isn’t much at this point.”
“Assisted suicide,” I whisper.
“They call it death with dignity. Cause of death will be cancer. It won’t be suicide.”
“But Bodhi thinks—”
“He’s delusional. He thinks what he wants to think. We’re past miracles. I’m just tired, Henna.”
“He’ll hate me.”
“He won’t have to know. And don’t tell me you have to tell him. You don’t. He won’t ask. He’ll think I died in my sleep. It’s not a lie. That’s how I’ll die.”
I’ll always know. Will I be able to take this secret to my grave too?
“Please.”
I hug my arms to my chest, feeling a little cold—probably my body going into shock. After a few agonizing moments, I nod.
“Thank you, darling. And I need one more favor.” He reaches for my hand and I give it to him.
As if death isn’t enough.
“I want to see your mom. Privately.”
My eyes narrow just as Bodhi comes back into the room. Barrett squeezes my hand like he’s trying to squeeze an answer out of me. I nod again just before standing.
“Bella is flying home next week. I told her it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted.”
“Good.” Barrett nods. “I want to see her before … I start treatment.”
My gut clenches. This is how it’s going to be. He’s going to lie to his family because he can’t trust them to support his decision to die with dignity.
“Well, the doctor called in your prescription. She’ll be in to discharge you, and we’ll stop on the way home and get it.”
Barrett attempts a smile, but it looks like a grimace.
“I’m going to…” I point toward the door “…hang out in the waiting room while you help your dad get dressed.”
Bodhi bends down to press a kiss to my cheek. “Thank you for everything.”
Don’t thank me.
“Of course.”
And if the truth comes out, please don’t hate me.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
I CALL MY mom to see when she can fly back to Colorado to see Barrett. I have no idea what he wants, but his privately comment left me feeling like I wasn’t supposed to know. Then I ask my mom for the biggest favor ever.
“You want me to help Barrett kill himself? No. I can’t do that, Henna.”
I put my phone on speaker and set it by my bed as I dig into my gummies. It’s time to numb some of this fucking pain after two very long days. “Were you not here yesterday? Did you not see what happened? Had you been at their house today…” closing my eyes, I take a deep inhale and wonder if I will ever forget what I saw happen to Barrett “…you would understand. You would see that he’s miserable. In pain. Embarrassed. And just … done.”
“Henna …”
“Since I’ve been home, I’ve been researching this online. There’s a process. It could take two weeks anyway. Two more weeks of him being in so much pain. And he has to have two doctors sign off and one send in a prescription. They won’t do it unless they believe he’s terminal with six months or less to live. And they won’t do it unless they believe he’s psychologically competent to make this decision and physically capable to do it when the time comes.”
I don’t tell her they strongly suggest he inform and discuss thi
s with his family.
“Do you know what you’re asking?”
“Yes. I know. I’m not asking you to kill him. He’s going to die. I’m not asking you to do anything illegal. You’ll have this on your conscience for a while, but I’m risking the most. I’m risking losing Bodhi. Yet, I’m willing to because …” I blink back the pain. “If you would have seen him today …” I swipe my finger along the corner of my eye.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes. I’m trusting you, Henna. If you believe this is for the best. I trust you.”
I’m twenty-one. A part-time pot user. And I paint and draw shit all day. Should anyone trust me?
“Thank you.”
“I’ll make a few calls.”
“Love you.”
There’s a moment’s pause on the line. “I love you too. And I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“You will lose him if he finds out.”
I sniffle and rub my eyes. “I know.”
*
BODHI TAKES BARRETT to see the oncologists. He doesn’t ask me to go. That’s fine. I’m not sure I want to be in the room for that discussion.
When they get home, Bodhi helps Duke with the horses. They had an above average day with the tourists. I hang out with Barrett and start dinner. We’re trying broth for him.
“What did the oncologists say? Bodhi seemed like he didn’t want to talk about it, so I didn’t ask.”
Barrett sips some cannabis tea I brought him. “They had pretty good news.”
“Oh yeah?” I glance over my shoulder from the stove.
He sets his tea on the table with a shaky hand. “They gave me three to four months to live—with treatment.”
I frown. “That’s good news?”
“It is for me.”
I turn back toward the stove.
“You think I’m being harsh?”
I shrug. “Not necessarily. I think you’re resigned to …”
“Reality?”
I nod.
He’s had two doctors tell him he has less than six months to live. That’s what he needs to make an oral request for physician-assisted death. Of course it’s good news to him.
“How did Bodhi react?”
“He thinks I should have the surgery and get opinions from other doctors. He’s holding out for a miracle. I don’t exactly hate him for that.”