by Eva LeNoir
Except I had to deal with it, too, didn't I? I was a spectator in his agony, and it broke my heart to watch the powerful, confident man he used to be, becoming someone who could barely feed himself without injury. I’d heard of the horrors of Dementia and Alzheimer’s and often wondered if those years of slow decay felt the same for their children. The helpless bystanders, the impotent witnesses.
And worse, maybe this was my own destiny. Maybe I would follow in his shaky footsteps.
Maybe I would be alone with no one to take care of me because unlike him, I knew this was a possibility and I wouldn't force anyone to go through this. I’d have to take that test, soon. Maybe somewhere in the back of my mind, I had known that Calvin would never be the one therefore testing hadn’t been a priority.
But now? I owed it to Marlon. He’d been there with Dad, he’d seen first hand what the disease could do. I needed to cut my losses, or maybe his, before we both got in way over our heads.
You’re already in too deep, Jaidyn. Don’t kid yourself.
I shook away the thought, more pressing matters were at hand.
"Daddy, calm down, okay? Let me get the fork out of your," he must have forgotten he had it tied to his hand because at my words he looked down and frowned, then his face morphed into something more aggressive, more beastly.
"Get it off! Get it off! Get it off!" he repeated, and I rushed over to untie the napkin before he truly hurt himself or me.
As soon as the fork fell to the floor, so did we.
On our knees, facing each other, I took him in my arms and squeezed him as tightly as I could, whispering words of reassurance.
"It's okay. It's going to be okay. I'll take care of you, Daddy, I promise," I vowed, feeling him shake with the sobs racking his entire body.
I didn't keep it in this time. Fuck being strong, we needed to break down, together. Then, tomorrow would be a new day.
If we could survive this one, first.
Chapter 43
Marlon
I spent the better half of my trip back to Los Angeles trying to go over the series of events that led me to return home. With first class arrangements, I was able to make my space a bit of an office between my laptop and my phone.
As soon as I arrived at the airport, Emma was there to pick me up, having been in contact with Ethan and me the whole time. The guys were alternating between the office and the hospital so that Millie would never be left alone. It was my turn to hold her hand.
"She’s going to be fine, Marlon," she said in guise of a greeting, knowing that it was exactly what I needed to hear. The details I could deal with later but ultimately, I needed to know she was okay.
"Thank you, Emma," I said calmly, giving her a side hug, one arm behind me pulling the suitcase and carry-on, but inside my heart was both aching and beating like a jackhammer. “What’s the update?”
“So, one of her boys found her at the bottom of the stairs, unconscious, and called nine-one-one,” she started, paying for her parking before continuing. “The ambulance was there quickly, the boys were freaked out,” she shook her head and I knew what she was thinking, I would be too.
“How old are the boys?” I asked her, putting a twenty in her jacket pocket without her knowing. I wasn’t going to let her pay for parking.
“One is twelve, he’s the one who called for help. The other two are eight and six. Do you know them?” she asked, scooping out familiar keys and leading me out of the airport.
"No, I don't think so. Last time we were there, the kids were at school so I didn’t get to meet them," I answered, as I rolled my luggage out the sliding doors, the warm December weather in LA feeling much cooler after a few weeks in the summer temperature of Australia, and toward my car in the parking lot.
I threw a smirk in Emma's direction, shaking my head.
"What? I wasn't putting miles on mine to come pick you up," she shrugged beeping the fob and getting in the driver's seat., “No offense,” she added, as though my foster mom being in the hospital warranted her using my car.
"Yeah, I'm sure that's the reason," I narrowed my eyes at her in jest knowing damn well that she just liked my car because it had air conditioning, contrary to the piece of shit that she only drove when the weather did not permit the use of her Vespa.
"So, anyway, she woke up with the EMTs there, they asked her a few questions and she was able to answer them. She was groggy though, not completely understanding what was happening. Of course, her first worry was the boys," she chuckled, because it was such a Millie thing to do. Emma had met her a couple of times, once for Thanksgiving dinner that ended up being a free for all on anecdotes and embarrassing stories. Her foster kids at the time were having the time of their lives.
“She’s out of surgery, though, right?” I asked her, throwing my suitcase in the trunk and holding out my hand for the key. She scoffed and just sat in the driver’s seat as thought it were her car.
“Yeah, she’s out and she’s stable,” she reassured me with a smile, “even asked where you were,” she said oblivious to the pain that single phrase caused me. I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there when she needed me most and that thought was almost debilitating.
“Yeah?” I asked absentmindedly, but what I really wanted to say was that I was sorry.
Then Jaidyn’s face flashed in my mind and the guilt both faded and intensified. While I felt Millie should have been able to count on me, I couldn’t help but feel that if anyone was worth my absence, it was Jaidyn.
“Yeah,” she said, navigating through the hellmouth that was LAX, the world’s third busiest airport, “Ethan told her she should disown you and that he should be her favorite.”
That got my attention, our age-old bantering for Millie’s affection an ongoing topic of discussion.
“He wishes. Even from far away, I’ll always be her favorite,” I said, confident, “So what are her injuries, Emma. Jesus, it’s like your beating around the bush, here.” I was joking, but then not really. I needed to know the details now that I had landed in the city and was well on my way to seeing her.
"Concussion, twisted ankle and a broken arm." Emma recounted, no nonsense, all business.
“Okay, that’s okay, right? I mean, she’s probably in pain but it’s nothing to be worried about, right?” I asked her, but mostly was reassuring myself.
“She’ll be fine but they’re keeping her in the hospital for the week so you guys need to make sure her paperwork is taken care of,” she threw me a pointed glare as though taking care of Millie financially or otherwise wasn’t one of our priorities.
“Jack…” I scoffed using her nickname with a pointed glare of my own, “as if we wouldn’t, what the fuck?”
“You know she’s going to be difficult about this.” She was right. Millie would fight it but then, she was in the hospital and we were her next of kin so, she didn’t have to know about it, did she?
“So,” Emma started as she flew down I-105, exiting on the I-110 heading for LAC-USC, Millie’s hospital, giving me a side glance that promised a third degree. I was certain I knew what she was about to ask, “you were obviously getting some in the land of kangaroos and killer spiders,” and fuck my life, this woman was crazy.
“Excuse me?”
“Sun,” she nodded at my forearms and shrugged, “your tan hasn’t faded,” she smirked and we both knew she was full of shit.
“Right, well, it’s the summer, they have beaches and I had my surf board,” which I’d had shipped back to my beach house since the rest of the trip would be under the heavy snows of the northern hemisphere.
“Hmm, well, you look relaxed considering the circumstances, I’m guessing you got a lot of…down time?” she was ridiculous.
“It was perfect,” I said, a smirk making its appearance at the corner of my mouth as I turned and watched the cement scenery pass us by in a rush.
“I bet it was,” she muttered, her own smirk rivalling mine.
Millie would be fine.
/> Between the three of us, there was always someone at the hospital with her, to dote on her, to show our love and to try to hide our fears. This tiny, fierce and unequivocally loving woman was used to caring for others, not the other way around.
“Child, stop fussing!” she’d told me more than once when I tried to fluff her pillow or make sure her hospital food was edible.
“Millie, will you stop being so difficult?” I’d retort, mirroring the same look of frustration she’d given us more than a dozen times during our years living with her.
“I’m not being difficult; I just don’t need you going all Muhammed Ali on my pillow. Leave that poor thing alone.” She had a point, maybe I had been a bit too violent on that pillow.
“Fine. But you need to eat, get stronger,” I told her with my finger pointing at her like I was scolding a child.
“Boy, I know I raised you better than to be pointing your finger at an adult,” she scolded.
“I’m an adult, too,” I mumbled, but sounded more like a child than a twenty-eight-year old.
The truth was, I had something I needed to tell her, and it was going to put her in a fit. Ethan and Luca both came up with excuses to high tail it out of the hospital, leaving me with the responsibility. No one wanted to be on the wrong end of Millie’s wrath. She never got violent; she didn’t need to because we would beg for forgiveness at the first disappointed look she would give us.
“Come here, Marlon, my boy. Come here,” she called out, waking from the pain killer induced nap.
Scooting my hospital chair forward, I put down my phone and held her hand between mine, her bronze skin engulfed in my tanned one, “You okay, Millie? Do you…” I started but she didn’t allow me to finish.
“I’m fine, Marlon, just fine,” she said, squeezing my hand and giving me a tired smile. “Have I told you how proud I am of you? The three of you?” she asked, her head turned to the side as she lay at a raised angle on the bed. Her black and increasingly grey curls a stark contrast with the crisp white pillowcase. Millie refused to dye her hair, saying it was nature’s way of keeping a tab on the number of times we scared the greys onto her.
“All the time,” I chuckled. She had always been our number one fan, always there for us when we needed advice or just a good hearty meal.
But with our jobs, we seemed to be going over to see her less and less, and the guilt was crushing.
“Millie, I have something I have to tell you,” I started, weighing my words so they didn’t cause any havoc.
“Oh Lord, this must be a big one if can’t look at me when you tell me,” she murmured, probably knowing half of what I was about to tell her.
“Social services have taken your current foster kids, placed them with another family while you recover,” I informed her, and as I had guessed, she wasn’t too surprised.
“That makes sense, doesn’t it? Do you know where they went?” She asked, and I didn’t miss the sheen over her eyes. She loved her kids, every single one that lived in her home over the past twenty-five years, but I was certain that she was more worried about where they were than about herself.
“Yes, I asked the social worker for a favor. Asked really nicely,” I flashed her Jaidyn’s favorite boyish grin, “just like you taught us,” I winked, “and she made sure Tomas and Enzo were placed in that family you like, from two streets over?” I asked, suddenly unsure if I overstepped.
I probably did.
Her smile returned as she rubbed her thumb over my hand and chuckled. “I told you, that smile would give you the world.”
And she was right, it gave me Jaidyn.
“Now, what’s the real thing you need to tell me? I’m pretty sure that was just an appetizer. Go on, now. Get that courage up.” She wasn’t upset but she knew me too well.
“So,” I started, swallowing then wetting my lips with the brush of my tongue, “Ethan, Luca, and I were thinking,” we did more than that, we acted.
“Uh huh, that’s dangerous stuff, right there,” she chuckled but the worry was visible in her tired eyes.
Fuck it. I was ripping it off like a band aid.
“We bought you a house at the beach, right down the road from us.” I cringed, closing my eyes as though that could possibly hide me from her wrath.
“Is that so?” the dead calm in her voice was some scary shit.
“It was Luca’s idea!” Oh, my fucking god, I was officially a ten-year-old again.
“Is that right?”
I opened one eye to see if she was scowling at me and was surprised to see the smile on her face.
“You’re not mad?” I asked, finally opening my other eye now that I was out of the danger zone.
“Oh, I’m not happy about it, young man. Going behind my back and making decisions for me without even asking?” With a tsk, she shook her head, just like when we’d toilet papered Mr. Wanker’s, real name Burns, front yard because he’d called the police about Millie’s yard not being tidy enough. Our toys were all over the place on any given day. We’d always clean up before going back inside but that wasn’t good enough for that man.
“But, your hearts are in a good place so I’m going to forgive you for that,” she softened her voice and pulled me closer for a kiss on my forehead. There she was, in the hospital with a concussion and broken bones, and I was the one being reassured, “when will they be giving me back the kids, did they say?” she asked on a yawn, her pain medication kicking back in.
“Uh…” well fuck. Was I not clear enough? Is that why she forgave me so quickly?
“You’re such a good boy,” she continued, her eyes getting heavier, “those boys got you, didn’t they? You lost at straws?” She knew me so well.
“Yeah, I did,” I always picked the shortest straw, always. That’s how I’d been promoted to Millie’s messenger.
Also, I was going to leave the rest of the news for Ethan and Luca to tell her, because right then? I was her favorite and they would get the tongue lashing I was expecting.
At the office, I took care of Martha Summers’ last details before she got on the plane to Ghana. I called her into the office so I could say goodbye to her and her grand daughter, Talia. We'd been working on this project for well over a year and she'd taken a little place in my heart. Like the grandmother I'd never had.
When she walked in, the entire office was there to greet her. The woman was kindness personified, knowing almost all of my employees by name as well as a summary of their life stories. Always a kind word or impeccable advice for us mere mortals. We were going to miss her, but her leaving was the reason we'd met in the first place so I couldn't ignore that her presence had made me, and all of us here, a better person.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Marlon Brooks, looking all handsome and in love," she walked in, placing a plate of almond chocolate chip cookies on my desk.
"Grandma!" Talia chastised from behind her, "that's rude!"
Shaking my head, I chuckled because this was par for the course with Mrs. Summers.
"It's okay, Talia, it wouldn't be the same if she didn't work her magic," I told the young woman, indicating that they should sit down on the couch.
"So, who is she?" Martha asked, a sparkle in her eye all the while shushing her grand daughter before she could even get a world in edgewise.
"I'm not in lo-," I didn't get to deny anything more because she shushed me too.
"Nonsense, Marlon," she told me, uncovering her cookies, my stomach growling upon sight, "I know a man in love when I see one. Hell, I lived with one for fifty years and you, young man, are head over heels," she barely looked at me as she spoke, didn’t see my mouth hanging open in surprise.
"And how could you possibly know this?" I asked, mostly to keep the humor going as well as the denial that I'd had planted in my brain.
"I just know these things, Marlon," she said, patting my hand, "It looks good on you, though."
Talia rolled her eyes and whispered conspiratorially, pretending that her
grand mother couldn't hear, "Luca told her you'd been away with a client and made it abundantly clear that you were...you know...involved." Sitting back, a smirk firmly planted on her lips, she shrugged as though she had not a worry in the world. Meanwhile, her grandmother was shooting daggers at her.
"Anyway, you're here to tell me if you need anything, not to discuss my love life or lack thereof," I said, picking a cookie or else suffer the wrath of this tiny bit of a woman.
"Ah, yes. The final goodbye," she smiled, and my sadness returned. I couldn't help it, no one could, "First, Marlon, I want to thank you. I couldn't have done it without you, you know that, right?" I leaned in and took her hand in mine, shaking my head.
"You don't need to thank me, Mrs. Summers,” I told her, my throat getting a bit tight, "Everyone here was more than happy to make your wishes come true." I leaned back, the emotion prickling the back of my throat and burning my eyes.
"Nonetheless, son, I will be dying whole. Thanks to you and everyone here, I will know my ancestral land, my grand daughter will know what runs in her blood. You cannot understand how important that is for us." I heard the shaking of her voice, Talia next to her doing nothing to hide her falling tears.
"I'm so happy to have been able to help you, truly," I told her, clearing my throat and getting a semblance of control over my emotions, "This," I said, holding out a leather folder with the foundation's logo and name on it, "has everything you need. Your itinerary, your tickets, your hotel reservations for the first two nights, the private car to the home we've rented for you and," I trailed off, not wanting to say the words but knowing they were necessary.
"It's okay, Marlon, we all know what's going on here. My funeral arrangements are in that folder, that's a good thing, son," she turned to Talia patting her on the knee and repeating, "it's a good thing, sweetheart."
The room fell silent, the three of us absorbing the moment heavy with meaning.
"This thing is killing me anyway. May as well kill me on the land of my ancestors." She was talking about the cancer and I hated that she'd refused the treatments when the disease came back but then she'd been so focused on this trip that it was almost like she was staying alive for the sole purpose of giving cancer her final "fuck you" and dying on her own terms.