White Lilies (A Mitchell Sisters Novel)

by Christy, Samantha

  I make a mental note to research brain tumors when I get home. After I talk to Griffin. Because that’s what she asked me to do. And I’ll do whatever she asks. I will be the perfect friend for whatever time she has left.

  It’s heartbreaking to see Griffin and his best friend, Mason. Here are two very large, very tough alpha males, and they’ve been reduced to a quivering mess of tears. Erin has grown close to Mason since he and Griffin became friends four years ago, when Griffin shot a spread for Sports Illustrated on promising college athletes featuring Mason. Despite their almost five-year age difference, Griffin and Mason forged a quick friendship. Where there’s one, you’ll usually find the other. And Mason has become the brother Erin never had.

  Aside from the whole cancer thing, you might say Erin is lucky. She may not have a lot of friends, but those she does have would die for her. I think any one of us would take her place right now if we could. The world needs more people like her. The world has an over-abundance of people like me. Once again, I vow to change and become the person she believes me to be. A person who deserves to have a friend like her.

  Griffin spots me in the place where I quietly leaned against a wall to watch him. He nods at me and then says something to Mason. He gets up and crosses the room looking like I’ve never seen him. His shoulders are slumped. His feet scuffle along the floor. His eyes are to the ground. He’s been beaten down by cancer so many times, I question his ability to be strong enough to help Erin.

  He has to be strong. We both have to be.

  He comes up beside me. “Can we take a walk?” His words are shallow; his voice hoarse and tentative.

  “Sure.” I follow as he walks ahead of me, down the main hallway and out the building to a courtyard. The first thing I notice when we walk outside is the smell of flowers. I look around and it’s beautiful. The area is adorned with benches surrounded by lovely budding flowers, vibrant bushes and colorful trees. Life. It reminds me of life. I suppose that was the objective. Something to bring hope to people who may not have any.

  Griffin walks over to a bench and signals for me to sit down. I sit and then he joins me, head still hanging, hands still shaking. “Erin wanted us to talk.”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  We sit in silence. Every time I try to speak, the lump in my throat prevents words from emerging. The same thing must be happening to him. He wrings his hands and clears his throat over and over. We both need a minute. So we just sit.

  I’m entranced by the repetitious movement of his arms. He has on a short-sleeved shirt despite the chill in the air, and I’m able to see his tattoo more clearly than I’ve seen it before. It’s a pink ribbon—the symbol for breast cancer awareness. There’s some script, but I can’t make it out. Maybe we could talk about that to ease us into talking about Erin.

  I point to it. “Did you get that tattoo for your mom?”

  He looks at it and studies it like he forgot it was even there. He nods. “Yeah.” He holds it out for me to look at. It has his mom’s name scripted on one side of the ribbon and what I assume is her date of death on the other side. “Looks like I’ll have to get another one now,” he says, choking on the words.

  “I’m so sorry, Griffin. Erin told me all about your mom. I’m sorry you have to go through that again.” I look up at him to see another tear roll down his cheek. “I’ll get one, too. We can go together.”

  “You can’t get one, Skylar. You’re pregnant.” As if suddenly reminded of the baby, he looks at my hidden belly and shakes his head.

  “How do you know I can’t get one?”

  “Because I read the books Erin bought for us. Unlike someone, apparently.”

  I look down at my stomach, feeling sick over the fact that this little life has already been riddled with tragedy. “What are we going to do?” About Erin. About the baby. About life. All of these questions require answers I’m not sure we’re prepared to give.

  “I don’t know. I can’t think about anything other than Erin right now.”

  I nod my head in agreement. We have time to figure out the rest. We need to help Erin. She’s our priority. Everything else can wait.

  We fall into silence again. After a minute, I realize we’re going nowhere fast and we don’t have a moment to spare. “We have to make plans for what time she has left.”

  He nods. His elbows are resting on his knees, his head is slumped forward and I see a tear fall from his cheek. I follow it with my blurry eyes as it splashes onto the concrete patio of the courtyard.

  “I want to make these last few months really s-special,” I stutter though the frog in my throat. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  He nods again. I wonder if he’ll ever speak. After another minute of silence, he finally does. “Me too. Whatever it takes. Money is no object.” His voice cracks again when he says, “I can’t do it alone. I’m going to need your help. Do you think you’ll be able to take some time off, work half days or something? I’ll pay for your replacement. I know she wants you with her.”

  “I know she wants you with her,” I say. “Yes, I can arrange for time off. And you don’t have to pay for it. I don’t want you worrying about money at a time like this.”

  He belts out a desperate laugh. “No, I’ll pay for it. Money is one thing I have, Skylar. A lot of it. I may have shitty luck. I may have a wife who is dying. But, money I’ve got. And I plan to use it to make her life everything it can be until . . .” His chest heaves as he holds in a sob.

  “What about you,” I ask. “Can you take time off?” I know he’s a freelance photographer and that usually means he sets his own hours and can pick and choose his jobs, but that doesn’t mean he won’t have pressing commitments.

  “It’s already done. I cleared my calendar indefinitely. I’ll be here for her twenty-four-seven. It might take some convincing for Erin to let us pamper her. She hates that. She never wants me to spend money on her, either. That’s one thing I won’t budge on. I’m going to spoil her in everything I do. Will you help me?”

  I elbow him and laugh to lighten the mood. “Will I help you spend a shitload of money to make a very special woman happy? You bet your ass I will.”

  He manages a hint of a smile before his face falls again. “Fuck.” He takes a deep breath, studying his tattoo. “I can’t believe this is happening again.” His body starts to shake as more tears escape his eyes.

  I scoot closer to him and wrap my arms around him. I hold him tightly against me. I let him know he doesn’t have to go through this alone. He eventually wraps his arm around me, too. We hold each other for what seems like hours, until neither of us have any more tears to shed. And in that time, I realize I can do this. The embrace we shared was not intimate. It was not provocative. It was not enticing. I felt nothing whatsoever, except the overwhelming need to join forces with him to help my friend. I’m sure I’ve just overcome the first hurdle in keeping my promise to become a better person.

  The sun set long ago and my watch, along with my stomach, tells me it’s getting late. “We’re no good for anything right now. We need to get some sleep and re-group later. Can you meet tomorrow?”

  “I’m staying here tonight. They’re bringing in a cot for me. I won’t leave her.” He straightens out his shirt and wipes his sweaty hands on his pants. He’s trying to pull himself together. “They want to do one more set of scans tomorrow afternoon before they release her. That may take a while. Can we meet then?”

  “Whatever you need. I’ll spend the morning finding my replacement and then I’ll head back to the hospital. We can talk more then. Why don’t I bring over some food from the restaurant when I come? No point in torturing any of us with hospital food.”

  He flashes me a sad smile. “That would be great, Skylar. Thanks.”

  We head back inside to find friends and family congregating over a spread of sandwiches that Mindy had sent over from work. Nobody left. Not one person. They’ve been here all day, supporting each other. Supporting Erin. I survey Er
in’s family—who are now my family. I take note of my friends—who are now Erin’s friends. I’m suddenly so grateful to be a part of this. It sounds twisted, but I’m genuinely honored to be included as one of the group who will get to witness her last moments in this world. Erin couldn’t be surrounded by better people. Well, present company excluded. But I’m trying. And I’ll get there. I swear to God I will.

  ~ ~ ~

  My eyes become sore from all the research. Research that only tells me the same thing over and over. Erin was right. She’s going to die. And soon.

  I’m trying to prepare myself for what might happen as her disease progresses. I saw the list of the horrible things it will do to her body. The only solace is that it will probably happen relatively quickly. By the time she becomes bed-ridden, she may only have a matter of days to live. But what upsets me the most is that she may not have all her mental faculties about her. We may lose her before we lose her and I know that will be unbearable to watch. It’s possible, however, that won’t happen. From what I’ve read, it’s different for everyone. There is only one exact similarity in every case. Death.

  I close my eyes and curl up into a ball on the couch. I cry for Erin. I cry for Griffin. I cry for this little baby who won’t know its mother. I cry for myself. When my tears dry up and I realize how selfish I’m behaving, I resolve to quit being reduced to a blubbering fool every time I think of Erin. Crying isn’t going to help her. It’s not going to improve her short life. There will be plenty of time for crying later. After she’s gone. I’ll mourn her loss then, not now. Now I need to focus on her life, not her death.

  I pick up the phone to call Baylor. I need her help with something.

  It doesn’t even ring before she answers, “Skylar, how are you holding up?”

  “I’m okay. I’ve been on my laptop looking up everything I can about her cancer.” I sigh as I try to feign off more tears. “It’s horrible, Baylor. We might only have her for a few more months. And of those months, we may only really have her for part of the time.”

  Baylor gives me words of comfort, letting me know what a good friend I am to Erin, but she doesn’t know the whole truth. The truth that eats away at me like a leech sucking blood from flesh.

  “Skylar?”

  She’s waiting for me to say something. But the lump in my throat is back and all I can do is sniffle.

  “Skylar, talk to me.”

  I close my eyes. “Do you believe in fate?”

  “Fate? Uh, yeah, I guess in a way I do. I think fate had Gavin and I run into each other in Chicago when we had moved to opposite sides of the country. I believe that we were meant to be together even though it took us a while to get there.”

  I nod my head, even though I know she can’t see me. “Do you think people can change fate?”

  She’s silent for a beat. Then she asks, “What’s this about, Skylar? What are you getting at? It’s okay, you can talk to me. We’re all grieving. Whatever it is that’s on your mind, it’s okay to feel that way.”

  I blow out a deep breath. “Erin believes in fate. She believes we were brought together so I could have their baby and improve my life in the process.”

  “Yeah, she told me.”

  “But I screwed up, Baylor. I messed with fate and now she’s dying.”

  “What exactly do you mean by that?” she asks.

  When I don’t say anything, she presses on. “You don’t mean because you think Griffin is hot and have had dreams about him, do you?”

  “If only,” I say. “It’s so much more than that.”

  I hear a gasp over the phone line. Then I hear a door close. “God, Skylar, please don’t tell me you slept with him,” she whispers.

  “No!” My eyes open but lower to the ground at my feet. “Of course not. I told you I would never hurt her like that. But I think somehow . . . I tried not to, but somehow I ended up . . . uh . . . in love with Griffin. I know it sounds crazy and I’m probably wrong, it’s probably lust or something, but I couldn’t help whatever it was and now this happened. I swear, Baylor, I would have never acted on it. And Griffin never gave me any indication that he was the least bit attracted to me. He loves her. I love her. I just couldn’t help it.” My sobs bellow out of me and I wonder if I’m making any sense at all. “I couldn’t help it, Baylor. I’m such a terrible friend that I fell in love with my best friend’s husband. Who does that? I’m so sorry. Oh, God, she’ll never forgive me. She’ll die and then she’ll know. People know everything when they die, don’t they? She’ll hate me. I’m trying. I’m trying to stop, but it’s hard to turn it off. Even with Erin dying. Even when I know it’s wrong. Griffin and I hugged today and that was okay, so maybe it’ll be alright. Maybe I can do this. What should I do, Baylor? How can I stop feeling like this?”

  For the hundredth time in what only seems like hours, I come apart, already breaking my vow not to anymore. I sob and heave and hiccup into the phone while Baylor waits for me to calm down. I can only imagine what she must think of me. I’m ready for her to bite my head off. Tell me what a bad person I am. It’s okay. I can take it. She won’t be telling me anything I don’t already know.

  “Skylar, are you okay? Can I talk now? Will you listen to me for a second?”

  “Okay.” I scrunch my eyes tightly together and brace myself for her lynching.

  “Listen closely, little sister. You did not cause this. What happened to Erin is not your fault. Not even in the tiniest way. Even if you had an affair with her husband, you still couldn’t have caused her to get cancer. Stop beating yourself up about it. Secondly, you have to let go of this guilt you have over Griffin. I know I’ve told you before, but I’ll tell you again. The heart wants what it wants. Yours wants Griffin. That’s perfectly okay. Normal even. You never acted on it. You knew it would be wrong. You did the right thing. You are a good person and a good friend. A bad friend would have made a pass at him. You would never do that. As far as I’m concerned, you are the very best kind of friend. The kind who can fall in love with her friend’s man but never act upon it out of love and respect for your friend. You are the kind of friend everyone should have, Skylar. You are kind, loyal and righteous. You’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve done everything right. Do you hear me? You are a good person and you did nothing wrong.”

  I let her words sink in. I let them sink into my soul. It may take a while before I can fully accept them, however. How is it that she knows exactly what to say to me, exactly when I need it to be said?

  “I fucking love you, Baylor. Do you know that?”

  She laughs. “I love you too, Skylar.”

  “I need your help with something.”

  “Anything, you got it.”

  We spend the next hour brainstorming ideas to make the next weeks or months the very best in all of Erin’s twenty-seven years.

  chapter thirteen

  Having squared things away at Mitchell’s, I arrive at the hospital with a platter of food just after noon. I didn’t know who would be here, so I had our chef prepare extra. And although I don’t normally recommend eating Chicken Piccata on paper plates, it’ll have to do. We’ll feed the nurses with whatever food is left over.

  I smile when I enter the room and see the gigantic arrangement of white lilies I had sent over this morning. When I told the florist that the flowers were for my friend in the hospital who was dying, he reprimanded me for sending this type of flower. The flower used at funerals. He asked if I was playing a sick joke on her. I assured him they were her favorite. He didn’t need to know more. He didn’t need to know about the lilies and Bean. He wouldn’t understand. Nobody else does.

  I study Erin and see that she looks pensive today. I wonder if she’s told me everything. Is she already having some of those symptoms that would indicate her progression is farther along than she let us believe? She looks between Griffin and me like she wants to say something. Maybe she’s waiting for the right time. Maybe it’s just not now, while we’re going over the bucket
list she made last night.

  We laughed when I walked in the room and we handed each other a piece of paper with similar intentions written upon them. To cram as much fun into her last weeks as possible. Okay, so Erin’s list may be a little less pretentious and wild than the one Baylor and I came up with.

  Erin’s list consists of things such as giving money to the less fortunate, sending an anonymous gift to someone in need and having a picnic in Central Park. I peruse the list, wondering how we can make some or all of these things happen. “Who’s Mr. Segal?” I ask, referring to line item number four on her list.

  “He was my ninth grade English teacher.” She smiles as she talks about him and I can tell he’s important to her. I silently promise to go to the ends of the earth to find him. “I became a teacher because of him. He showed me how much fun learning could be. He never raised his voice. He never got mad, he merely came up with ways to reach each student individually rather than bundle us all together, assuming we’d all learn the same way. I’ve always wanted to thank him.”

  I nod my head, continuing to read further down. “Skydiving?” I raise an eyebrow. Erin’s never been an outdoor kind of girl, so this one surprises me.

  “I know I can’t really do it. My doctor says I shouldn’t fly or do anything that involves a change in air pressure. So that kind of precludes skydiving and the next thing on the list, seeing the Eiffel Tower. But it’s something I wish I would have done.” She looks me straight in the eyes. “Don’t ever wait to do things, Skylar. Promise me. Don’t ever wait to live your life.”