by Gina Calanni
“When can you leave, then?” I glance at her machines as if they have a check-out time.
“Today; they are about to release me. I told them I knew the consequences and I want those to happen in the comfort of my own bed and my own living room floor.” She laughs again.
“Aunt Myra, I don’t want you to go.” I rub her hand as tears fall down my cheeks.
She squeezes mine back. “I don’t either, sweetie. I don’t either.”
I reach down to hug her as gently as I can and she squeezes me back with a love born of family that I’ve never experienced before. And now it’s going to be gone. I can’t imagine a sadder thing.
Chapter Twenty-Two
As I push back through the emergency room doors a tiny sliver of fear swirls around in my mind that Brandon won’t be there. That he has left. Which I suppose would be okay if he wanted to go home and rest. I would understand. I would.
Siting in the same spot I left him is Brandon with his head in hands. I rush up to him and kiss his cheek.
“Hey, there’s my special goldilocks.” He kisses my lips.
My eyes bulge out. “Brandon.”
“I told you I rank not kissing you higher in the rudeness level than if someone sees.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Besides, they can look away, whereas I can’t.”
My chest heaves… I can’t believe I’m with him. Or that he is with me. Maybe he had a head injury or something and doesn’t realize the difference between us?
“What are you thinking about?” He raises an eyebrow at me as if he can read my mind.
I shake my head. “Nothing. They’re going to let her out today. But it’s not good.” I swallow hard. The lump of all my worries and nerves is a ball in the back of my throat and I’m sick. I’m dizzy. Ms. Myra is my aunt and she is dying.
Brandon rubs my back.
“She only has days.”
He shakes his head and bites his knuckle. “It’s cancer, isn’t it?” He says it almost like a statement instead of a question.
“Yes.” I nod and my insides squeeze together. I have a family member that truly cares about me and now they are leaving me. Why? Am I cursed or something? Am I meant to live a life of sadness?
Brandon squeezes my arm. They are wheeling my aunt out from the emergency room and to us. I stand up and Brandon clasps my hand.
“Ready?” He asks my aunt.
“Let’s blow this popsicle joint.” My aunt laughs and Brandon laughs with her.
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll run ahead and get my truck.” He takes off toward the exit and I give my aunt the once over. She is paler than ever and can barely keep her head up. I want to cradle her and make it all go away but I’m not a magician. This is real. Cancer real. It is a big, nasty, mean disease that has sucked the life out of the sweetest woman I’ve ever known – and I mean my mama no disrespect by that. I try to stifle my tears. I know my aunt does not want to be surrounded by sadness for her last moments on earth. I’m going to do my best to make each day more special than the one before. I’ll find out what her favorite movies are and we can lie on her couches together and watch them. Have all-night-long romance movies. I bet those are her favorite. Maybe I’ll even try and figure out which one is her most favorite each day. I’ll get her a Netflix subscription, even do the on demand so we don’t have to wait for the movies to come in the mail.
And we can sit on the porch and watch the sunset each night, and each morning greet the sunrise with our coffees. I’ll come up with a list of things to do and see with her. I’ll make each moment special. The back of my throat is on fire. I can’t breathe. I don’t want her to go. She can’t leave me. She just can’t.
We exit the hospital and Brandon lifts my aunt into the passenger seat. He has it pushed back into a lying position. I get in on his side and ride in-between the two of them. My aunt closes her eyes and I imagine she is either a: sleepy or b: afraid she might be sick in this position. The whole ride home I watch her face, but her eyes are shut and I can’t tell how she is feeling. Brandon drives really slowly. Probably to avoid too many bumps. He seems to always think ahead.
Brandon hops out of the truck and carries my aunt into the house and to her bedroom. I place my purse on the counter and hold on to it so as I don’t fall. I’m overwhelmed. I can’t believe I’ve been living with my aunt all this time and had no idea. Brandon comes up behind me and squeezes my shoulders.
“She’s asleep; you should rest while she is.” He breathes into my ear and I know he isn’t trying to turn me on, but he is sending hot spirals down my neck and over my shoulders.
“Okay, I’ll just sleep on the couch. That way I can hear her.” I turn to face him.
“Why don’t you sleep in your bed and I’ll stay out here on the couch?” He reaches for my hand.
“No, Brandon, you should go home and get some sleep for yourself.”
“I’m not leaving you. I’ll stay on the couch. I want to be here for you.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I need to be here for you.”
A warm hot shower of feelings crashes down over my head. I’m woozy. I’ve never experienced anything like this. Someone so selfless… who just wants to make my life better. There is nothing in it for him to stay. He must be exhausted and sleeping on the couch is not going to fix that. How can he be so incredibly good to me? And care so much for my feelings and my wellbeing, over his own? A tear falls from my lash. I don’t want to cry in front of Brandon. I’ve already acted like a blubbering mess too many times as it is. I need to be strong right now. Not for me. For my aunt. If she wakes up, she can’t see me crying. I’ve got to prepare for making her last moments full of great memories with smiles and even laughter. A renegade tear drops from my other lash. He reaches for me and holds me in close to his chest. His heart is beating fast and strong; it’s a beautiful sound. He picks me up and carries me to the couch and I nestle in his arms and drift away in his love.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The room is quiet except for Brandon’s snoring. I laugh at the noise he is making. I’m surprised he hasn’t woken up the entire neighborhood. I glance at the clock on my phone; it’s just after three p.m. I stand up and stretch. Sleeping on the couch is not good for my back. It reminds me of working a triple shift at Dairy Queen, having all sorts of aches. I lean down and kiss Brandon’s lips quickly and he encloses me in his arms.
I laugh. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was, but when my goldilocks comes in for a kiss, I respond.”
I kiss him again and pull back. “I need to check on Ms.… my aunt.” That’s going to take some getting used to. Except time is not on our side. I swallow and stalk toward her room. Brandon left the door open and I see she is sleeping peacefully. I pull the covers up over her and turn to give her some more time.
A stack of papers catches my eye on her dresser. My Eagle Online bills. I gasp and cover my mouth. I don’t want to wake her. I swallow hard as I step toward the papers.
“Sahara.”
I turn and my aunt has her eyes barely open.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Come sit with me. I don’t have much time. They’ve come for me.”
“Who?” I sit down on her bed and hold her hand.
“My mama and daddy, your grandparents. They’re here to take me with them.”
Tears fill my eyes. My grandparents are in the room? This is the worst family reunion ever. My aunt is dying and my grandparents are ghosts. I want to bawl like a baby and hide in my closet. I have to tell her I know.
“I know what you did. I’m going to get your money back,” I blurt out.
“Hush now, that bill is paid. You don’t have to worry about it anymore.” She squeezes my hand.
“I can’t let you do that. It’s my debt.” I hit my chest.
“Not anymore, and I’m dying so you can’t exactly pay me back.” She laughs.
I laugh through the tears rolling off my cheeks. “But Aunt Myra, I researched t
hem. I should have before I signed up for it.” I swallow. “It’s a scam school. They have a bunch of lawsuits filed against them.”
“Don’t waste your time fighting that battle. You’ve got a good job now, no debt and a pretty hunky boyfriend who seems to care a great deal for you, Sahara.”
“But it’s not right. It’s not fair. I’ll sue them, too. I’ll get your money back. I will.” Tears are pouring from my eyes. “I promise.”
“No, Sahara, you can’t make promises to me on my deathbed and certainly not ones like that. You hear?” Her eyes are full of concern like she wants me to promise not to take on Eagle Online.
I shake my head. I don’t want to disrespect my aunt or any elder but I can’t agree to this. It’s not right. Eagle Online is a scam school and now they’ve taken my aunt’s hard-earned money, probably her life savings.
“It’s not right, and besides my degree probably doesn’t count. And I’ll probably lose my job.”
“Oh hush now, you’re not going lose your job. You’re a good employee, Sahara; you’re a good woman. You need to remember that.” She squeezes my hand.
“I don’t want to take your life savings; you could have used that for something else.” I let out a sob.
“Yeah, I was going to go on a world tour, but now I’m going somewhere even better and they don’t take currency to get in.” She reaches for a tissue from her pocket and hands it to me.
I take it. “I don’t want you to go.” I sob. I can’t control myself. I’m aching inside and I’m not the one dying of cancer.
“I know and I don’t want to go either and leave you. But I have to. My mama and daddy are standing right there in the corner and they’re waving at me. Waving at me to come and join them.” She points to the back corner like she really sees her mama and daddy.
I shake my head as tears drop into my lap.
“Sahara, I wish you would have known sooner. I wish I could have been in your life sooner. But I’ve set up my affairs so that you are my only heir.” She squeezes my hand again.
“What? No, you can’t.” Chills scatter down my body.
“Now, listen, it’s already done. My house, your house, is paid for. I want you to make something of yourself, climb that corporate ladder if that’s what you want. Or open your own ice-cream shop. Do any or all of these things, but the one thing you have to promise me you will be is happy.” She squeezes my hand and I swallow hard.
I can’t. I don’t want her to go. “Aunt Myra, I can’t be. I’m going to miss you too much.” My eyes are so full of tears I can’t even see here. I blink them to clear the flood.
“Yes, you will miss me. But you will have to find happiness in every day. And you will. There’s a brown-haired fellow in my living room who has promised me he will make sure you do.” She nods toward the living room.
My eyes hurt from all the tears. “What?”
“Hug me one last time, Sahara.” My aunt reaches up for me and I lean down and sob into her shoulder.
“I love you so much. You’ve been so sweet to me,” I say as softly as I can into her ear.
“I love you too, Sahara; you are my namesake, you know that?” She brushes some of the hair off my face. It’s sticking to my tears. I scrape the hair off my shoulder.
“I thought your name was Myra?”
“It is, but Sarah is my middle name; it was my mother’s name, your grandmother’s.” She nods toward the back corner of the room.
“So, it’s true what my daddy said? My mama was too doped up on painkillers and misspelled my name?” My shoulders slump. I can’t believe he was telling me the truth.
My aunt laughs. “Maybe, but the story your mama tells seems more like the truth to me.” She squeezes my hand once more and then lets it go. It’s like we are in slow motion and she lays her head back onto the pillow. Her eyes close and I can see her drifting away. Her chest is still. I reach for her hand again but it’s not squeezing mine back. My Aunt Myra’s entire body is motionless. Is she gone? No. I don’t want it to be over. I want to try and perform CPR, but I know the results won’t change.
The lump in the back of my throat is hurting so bad and I’m sobbing and sobbing. The pain inside my chest is so tight. With each sob it doesn’t loosen. It’s like my lungs are going to explode. Tears pour from my eyes. My stomach is in balls of knots. This can’t be true. Why? Why does she have to go? I just wanted one more moment with her. We didn’t get to watch our movies or see the sunset. I wanted one more sip of sweet tea on the porch with her. The sounds of my tears are like the pitter patter of raindrops on the window. I squeeze onto her hand hoping she’ll squeeze it back or that I’ll feel a pulse. But there is nothing. She’s gone. Gone. I sob harder and slump to the floor. I don’t want this. I want her back. Tears fall onto the floor and I crouch into the fetal position, sobbing, and I’m trying not to be loud, like my mama said, but I can’t help it. I’m broken. My sweet aunt is gone. She loved me. She even told me she did. I just want her back. I sob harder and harder. I don’t even realize Brandon is in the room as he picks me up in his arms and carries me back to my bedroom. I hold on to him tightly, like I’m going to fall off a horse without a saddle. He rocks me back and forth in his arms. I’ve never been cradled like this. So many tears have escaped my eyes and so many sobs of sadness drained from my body and no one ever held me close or combed my hair. He is so sweet to me. He must be too good to be true. I must be imagining this. Or worse, he is real and he’s going to leave me, too. I just know it. Sadness runs through my veins, and fear. Fear of losing one more person who means more to me then everyone combined. Brandon.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Brandon breathes into my ear.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Brandon stays with me the entire time. The coroner and the mayor come and declare that Ms. Myra has indeed died. The hearse drives her away and it is like part of me is being taken with her. So many emotions, so much love, and in such a short time. I just wanted more. I needed more time with her. We were supposed to have more time together. There were so many more things for us to do.
I take in a deep breath. I should probably make breakfast or something. I’m not exactly being a good host. I glance at Brandon; his eyes are clear and yet so full of love. I know it’s love. Because who else would stay with me this long? Through all my blubbering and tears. I’m sure I look a mess of blotchy spots with a puffy face and yet here he is still.
The doorbell rings and our eyes meet.
“I’ll get it.” Brandon hops up. I sit on the couch as if I’m a statue. What would I do if he wasn’t here? From my spot the doorway is out of view but the sound is not. My mama’s voice echoes through to the living room and it’s only a matter of seconds before she makes her entrance.
“Sahara, I’ve been trying to reach you, but your phone keeps going to voicemail. What’s that all about? Didn’t I raise you better than that?”
Brandon steps into the room. “I’ve got her phone; it actually died several hours ago.” He waves my phone for my mama to see.
“Well, that’s no excuse, now is it?”
“Mama, Ms.… Aunt Myra passed away this morning.” Tears stream down my face. I’m not even sure where they could come from because the well has got to be plum dry by now.
My mama drops her purse on the ground and grips her chest. She guides herself to the couch and slumps into it. “Oh dear, I had no idea. Dear sweet Myra, too soon. Lord. Too soon.”
Brandon picks up my mama’s purse and places it on the coffee table. “I’m going to go and pick up some food. I’ll be right back.” He leans down and kisses my head.
“No.” I reach for him and hold on like I don’t want him to ever leave, because I don’t. I’m afraid that for one reason or another he won’t come back.
“I’ll be right back.” He kisses my head.
I find the energy within myself and follow him to the door and down to his truck. “Brandon, I don’t…” I swallow hard. “I don’t want you to
leave me.” I can’t believe I’ve found the courage to say this and to Brandon of all people.
“Sahara, I’m just going to pick up some food. This will give you and your mama a chance to talk.” He kisses my head again, like he is trying to seal the idea of his return in my mind. And I want this to be real but I can’t help but be afraid.
“All right.” I nod because I don’t have a choice. I stroll back to the house and my mama is in the kitchen making tea.
“Sahara, I’m sorry. I messed up big time.” Her green eyes are filled with water. Has my mama been crying? It’s been over ten years since I’ve seen her shed a tear.
“What do you mean, mama?”
“Well…” She lets out a laugh but it’s not one filled with happiness; it’s one of those types of laughs that cracks and sounds like an insecure voice in a crowd that is trying to stand up for the right thing. “I’ve messed up on a few things, but I messed up big with you and Myra. I should have told you. I was still so full of anger and hurt about your daddy that I didn’t.” She lights the gas on the stove. “I didn’t want anyone connected to him to experience any type of joy. I kept her out of your life and I told her the only way you could stay with her was if she didn’t say who she was.” A tear falls from my mama’s eye. “I’m sorry, Sahara. That was downright mean and I’m ashamed. I did you both wrong for my own pain and that is not the kind of person I want to be or to be to you.” She grips the counter.
I am overcome with emotion. I could have known Aunt Myra a long time ago. All that time I could have had moments with her. I was cheated; we were cheated. My heart pangs like a speaker that has a fuse that is going out. It’s too loud, it’s too much. I can’t deal with this. I leave the kitchen and suddenly I’m out the front door and down the road and I keep going. I’m headed nowhere fast. And I don’t care. I’ve lost too much to care about looking back and letting go. I’ve got to get out. Out of this town. Out of this state. Away from anyone that can hurt me. I don’t want to hurt anymore. The pain is too much.