by Jewel E. Ann
I pause a moment, as I always have to do when I think of us. “Bodhi doesn’t have a clue how I fit into his life. He doesn’t think he has anything to offer me. Just him. Just his love. Holding hands on the sofa while we watch Barrett sleep. Horseback rides. Sunday drives in Alice.”
“Alice?”
I nod, wearing a grin that feels fabulous on my face. “I named his VW van Alice. Right after we met. And he still calls her that. He loved me enough to let me go. Now he loves me enough to know that loving me is enough.”
I can do the right thing, or I can love you, but I can’t do both.
Bodhi probably has no idea that those words will always stay with me.
“Do you love him enough to let him go if loving him isn’t enough? Because it might not be enough if he finds out how his father planned his own death.”
I’m twenty-one. Playing the age card might be getting old, but I play it anyway because my love for him is more than enough. My heart can’t let him go without kicking and screaming, begging and pleading. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
“Barrett said Bodhi never needs to know the truth. I agree. You’re not making this decision for Barrett. You’re not administering the medication. You’re simply abiding by his request. If it’s not you, it would be someone else. And honestly …” She blows a slow breath out of her nose, forehead winkled.
“Honestly what?”
“I’m very conflicted about this, and I told Barrett as much. I know he feels desperate, and he also feels a connection to you, but asking you to do this, putting you in this situation, is a bit selfish on his part. Yes, you’re an adult, but you’re a young lady. Bodhi aside, this will affect you for the rest of your life, just like your accident.”
“I’m fine.”
“Well, fine can be a very temporary state.”
Taking a bite of my salad, I let her words settle in my head and my heart.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
BELLA VISITS BARRETT, and he manages to stay out of the hospital in spite of his inability to maintain weight. I eat dinner with their family most evenings to help keep the peace between the two siblings. Barrett magically finds topics of conversation that bring back happy memories of their family. Occasionally, I even notice Bodhi and Bella trading knowing smiles about something. In those moments, I fight back the tears.
Barrett is content—weak, in pain, exhausted, oftentimes heavily medicated or high, and on good days he sleeps a lot. Bodhi’s itching to get him scheduled for surgery and started on treatment again.
But that’s not going to happen because today Barrett holds all the power. He’s his own god.
“It’s like staring at a loaded gun,” I say as we keep our gazes affixed to the prescription bag on the kitchen table.
Barrett hums his agreement.
“How do you feel?”
He clears his throat. “I’m tired today.”
“No.” I scoot my chair closer to his wheelchair. “In here.” I press my hand to his heart. “How do you feel about Bodhi and Bella? How do you feel about letting go when no one knows what happens next?”
He covers my hand with his hand. “I feel like I’ve nearly emptied every emotion I have left to give. I can’t fix them if they’re not ready to be fixed, but if I leave it all—all the love—behind, then maybe that will be enough for them to realize the fight is over. There are no winners or losers—only survivors. My kids … they will survive me.”
My nose and eyes burn with all my fears. “I want you to tell me w-when.” My voice cracks under the heavy dose of reality. “I need to be prepared. Kinda knowing like I do at the moment is worse than not knowing at all.”
“Soon.” He releases my hand.
“Soon? Hours? Days? Weeks? What do you call soon?” Panic takes over. I thought I could do this, but with that bag right here on the table, I can barely breathe past the anxiety.
“Soon as in every goodbye matters.”
“Soon as in today? Tonight? Are you going to do it before Bodhi gets home?” I glance at my watch. He won’t be home for another three hours. That’s plenty of time. Did he leave on good terms with him this morning? “Maybe I could make dinner.” My hands shake. I fold them on my lap. God … my heart might break through my chest. I can barely hear past my racing pulse. “Maybe today is too soon.”
“It’s a Monday.”
I nod several times as my knee begins to bounce. My nerves won’t be held back no matter how hard I squeeze my hands together. “There’s a Monday next week too. But now that I really think about it, people have a lot to deal with on Mondays. Have you considered a Tues—”
And then it happens. My knee stills, my hands still, I think my heart even stops for a few seconds when Barrett leans forward, nearly falling out of his chair, to rest one of his hands on my leg and the other on my folded hands.
All that energy.
All the nerves.
All the pain.
All the fear.
It comes out as a sob ripping through my throat. I collapse onto my own lap, resting my cheek against his hand on my knee.
“It’s okay, darling. Everything will be okay.”
I spent so much time thinking about Bodhi and how he would deal with his father’s death, I haven’t checked in with my own heart. Right now it hurts because I don’t just love Bodhi, I love his father too.
I’m going to miss Barrett Malone.
He squeezes my hands with what little strength he has left. “I asked Duke to get you a good saddle for Angelina, and I told him she’s your horse. No matter what happens to the ranch, she’s yours.”
“H-horse? I don’t w-want a horse. I want a miracle, just like Bodhi. The improbable. Th-the impossible. Why not? They happen. If anyone deserves a miracle, it’s y-you.”
He moves a hand to my head, stroking my hair as he mumbles something. It takes a few seconds for the words to register. When they do, I cry even harder.
“You’re the miracle, Henna. Take care of my boy.”
*
“YOU CAN’T STAY. He’ll know.” Barrett gives me a sad smile.
I nod. As much as I want to be here for Bodhi, my eyes are too swollen. My heart is too broken. The moment he walks through the door, he’ll know something is terribly wrong.
“I’m going to call Etta to see if she’ll come stay with you and make a pot of soup for dinner.” I grab my phone from my pocket.
“Thank you.”
I can’t even look at Barrett. Just his simple thank you puts me on the verge of losing it again.
Etta agrees to head this way, so I hide the prescription bag where Barrett can easily get it when he’s ready. I put on my sunglasses and ready myself at the front door to make a quick escape before she can get a good look at me in my broken state.
I text Bodhi.
Me: Etta is here. I’m leaving. I need to finish a sketch tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you … so much. Xo
Bodhi: Love you too. Thanks for all you do.
Thanks for helping my dad die. My conscience will never live through this.
“I’ll leave the bottles in the empty bag right where it is now. You’ll need to properly dispose of them before anyone goes through my stuff.”
With my back to him, my hand on the front doorknob, I nod.
The drippy faucet in the kitchen marks time, punctuating the silence, cementing reality as I catch sight of Etta.
“I love you, darling.”
Oh god …
I can’t breathe, and I definitely can’t speak, so I nod without looking back. Rushing out the door, I hold my phone up to my ear so Etta thinks I’m on a call. With my breath held hostage and my last bit of composure ready to shatter, I give her a friendly wave while passing her on the ramp. When the door closes to the house and I’m at least ten yards from the porch, I nearly vomit, choking on my grief.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
I CONSUME ENOUGH edibles to get to sleep. Then I wake up at three in the morning, full
y clothed. If—when—Bodhi calls, I want to be ready.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I stare at my phone. I stare at it until my eyes fatigue. Collapsing onto my side, I rest the phone on my pillow and stare at it some more until I fall asleep again.
Dave Matthews “You and Me” blares from my phone—my new ringtone for Bodhi. Before I went to sleep last night, I turned the volume up all the way because I didn’t want to sleep through his call. Now, as my heart stops, blocking all oxygen from my lungs, I rethink that decision.
I’m not sure how they find their way out so quickly, but tears stream down my face. This is it. I swipe the screen of my phone, bringing it to my ear slowly, prolonging the inevitable for just a few seconds longer.
“Hey.” My hand flies to my mouth to stop the sob that threatens to trample my hey.
“Good morning, sexy.”
My jaw drops, mid-sob. Good morning sexy? That’s not what one says when their father is dead. Oh my god … Barrett didn’t do it. Why didn’t he do it? I’m relieved that he didn’t, but what does this mean?
I blow out a slow breath to steady my voice. “What’s up?”
“I need a favor.”
“Um … sure.” I wipe my eyes, feeling like this huge weight has been lifted from my chest.
“Duke just called. Etta is under the weather today, and I woke up a little late. My dad and I were up late talking. Memory lane. It was great, but I missed my alarm.” Bodhi’s words are slightly clipped like he’s hustling. “He’s probably tired too, so I don’t want to wake him yet. How soon could you be here? I just don’t want him to be alone when he does wake up, and I’d rather not have to call in and use another personal day. I’ll need those days for his surgery.”
No … no, no, no.
This can’t be me. The routine is Bodhi wakes his dad up, gets him to the bathroom, and dressed. Then Etta or I arrive just as Bodhi’s leaving. We take over, making breakfast and attending to his daily needs beyond that point. Everyone knows this. Barrett knew this. That’s why he chose nighttime, so Bodhi would be the one to find him in the morning.
“Henna? Are you still there? I’m sort of in a hurry. Can you help me out?”
No.
There’s a good chance his dad is dead. Bodhi needs to take a personal day. Period.
“Uh …” I swallow hard, choking on this nightmare. “Yeah, just let him know I’m on my way.”
“I’m not going to wake him. Just get here as soon as you can.”
“Bodhi—”
“Please, babe, can you just do this for me?”
Rubbing my forehead, I close my eyes. “I’m on my way.”
*
BODHI’S PULLING OUT of the drive by the time I get there. I force a smile when he rolls down his window. It’s never hurt this much to smile.
“You’re the best.” He grabs the strap to my bag and pulls me flush to Alice so he can crane his neck out the window to kiss me. He’s in such a good mood.
Pressing my hands to his cheeks, I kiss him. Will it be the last time he kisses me? I don’t know how, but he’ll find out. He’ll know I knew about this.
“God … I love you,” he whispers over my lips before releasing me.
I return a smile that hopefully conveys my love for him. My chest is too congested with fear and dread to find words.
“Bye.” He rolls up the window and pulls away from me.
Staring at the house for a few seconds, I will my legs to take me there.
One step.
Two steps.
I will never forget this day for the rest of my life. It’s a feeling I can’t quite explain, but I think it will change who I am.
The ramp boards creak as I walk up them to the front door. The front door whines on its hinges when I open it. And when I close it behind me, it’s dead silent.
Dark.
Hallow.
Suffocating.
Taking slow steps, I stop in the middle of the living room and stare at Barrett’s bedroom door. It’s cracked open a few inches. Threading my fingers through my hair, I draw in a shaky breath.
Maybe he didn’t do it. What if their trip down memory lane convinced him to fight this? Sometimes all it takes is finding something that makes the fight worth it. I ease into Barrett’s empty recliner, ghosting my fingertips over the worn black leather arms.
And I wait.
The mantel clock keeps me company for the next two hours.
Two hours.
I wait two hours for a cough. I wait two hours for the squeak of his bed frame. I wait two hours to find the strength to walk into that room.
My trembling hand presses to the faded-wood bedroom door. It’s warm compared to my cold fingers. Chills vibrate my whole body, like when I’m outside on a winter day and I can’t get warm. The ache in the back of my throat makes it hard to breathe. The need to know overrides my instinct to run, call Bodhi, and tell him his dad died.
Because … what if he’s not dead?
“Barrett?” His name catches in my throat, coming out as a stutter.
Nothing.
I step closer to the bed and gasp, turning quickly and pinching my eyes shut. My shoulders curl inward as my breathing becomes erratic. One hand goes to my stomach as a wave of nausea contracts my abs.
This picture of Barrett will never leave my mind—pale, jaw relaxed, eyes partially open, and completely lifeless.
Dead.
Should I call 9-1-1? Is that what Bodhi would have done had he found Barrett this morning? CPR? I … I don’t know what to do. This wasn’t my job. I wasn’t supposed to be the one to find him like this. Folding at the waist, I rest my hands on my knees and try to even out my breathing.
“Think …” I whisper. “What do I do?”
I run to my bag and grab my phone. There’s this sudden sense of urgency, but I don’t know why. I drop the phone because I can’t stop shaking. Desperation pounds in my chest. No amount of preparation could have ever prepared me for this.
“Hey, sweetie,” Juni answers.
Raw emotion has an impenetrable immunity to one’s will. No matter how hard I will myself to keep it together, I can’t. My answer to her greeting is an uncontrolled sob as I collapse to my knees.
“Oh … Henna …”
My cries drown all the words. The man I love to the ends of the earth, to the end of time, lost his dad and he has no idea.
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in a few hours. Where are you?”
“H-Here …”
“Bodhi’s house? How’s he doing? He needs you, Henna. I’ll be there soon—”
“H-h-he … doesn’t k-know …” I choke. “He left …” I hiccup. “He wanted m-me to be h-here when…” another hiccup “…Barrett woke up. But he’s …”
“Jesus, Henna. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t k-know what to … to do.”
“Breathe, I need you to breathe first. Okay?”
I nod, trying to calm myself down.
“Are you there alone?”
“Yes.”
“Did you call 9-1-1?”
“You. I c-called you.”
“Okay. Call 9-1-1. Then go get Bodhi. I’ll have John come get you. This isn’t something you tell him over the phone. He shouldn’t be driving after hearing this news. Understood? And I’m already in the car on the way to the airport. I’m going to call your dad and Zach.”
Bella. Duke. Etta.
Nobody knows.
“K.” I wipe my cheeks and my nose while disconnecting the call and dialing 9-1-1.
“9-1-1 operator. What is your emergency?”
The answer stays lodged in my throat for a few seconds. “I … I need to report a death.”
This dispatcher leads me through a series of questions as I grab my bag and head outside as John pulls into the driveway.
I press end and clutch my phone as John gets out of the vehicle. Without a word, he wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. Every day thousa
nds of people around the world die from cancer. That means every day thousands of families go through what I’m going through now, what Bodhi and Bella are about to experience. Cancer sucks ass. Just like helicopter crashes and falling down flights of marble stairs.
On the way to the school, I call Duke. Just what Etta needs to hear when she’s already under the weather.
“Want me to go inside with you?” John asks as he opens my door in front of the school.
I shake my head. “But thank you.”
At the entrance, I press the button by the security camera. “Yes?” The voice isn’t familiar. Must be someone new working in the office.
“I need to see Bodhi Malone.”
The door buzzes and unlocks. The next set of security doors are at the office. They buzz open as well.
“Do you have an appointment with Mr. Malone?” the new receptionist asks.
I shake my head slowly. Every word she says sounds slow and echoed. Maybe it’s because this isn’t real. Maybe I’m going to wake up from this nightmare.
“Henna?” Principal Rafferty walks around the corner that leads to her office.
My gaze shifts to her, face long and incapable of a smile or anything even close to it.
“How are you?” Gail acts as if we’re friends. We are not friends. I hate her.
“I need to see Bodhi.”
She frowns. “Henna. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I swallow hard to suppress the anger that’s mixing with my grief. It’s a toxic combination. “I don’t care what you think. Never have. Never will. I just need to see Bodhi.” I’m not telling her why. I refuse to tell anyone else before I tell Bodhi. “It’s a family emergency.”
“Well, you’re not his family, so—”
I leave the office and try to open the set of doors to the main corridor of the school, but they’re locked. “Open the fucking door!”