“Well, yes, I guess I did think that at the time. But it’s a non-issue because she called me and said thanks, but no thanks. Now Anne, Anne liked you.”
“She came out and said that?” he asked.
“No, but I could tell. It’s too bad you don’t like her.”
“Ugh, I felt like if I was to switch sexes that’s what I would look like. No thank you.”
“You’re impossible,” Harley said, laughing. “Your brother is on my bad list, by the way. He either apologizes or I don’t care if I see him again. It would serve him right. I never met a more selfish person than Dave and unfortunately, I have to add Bea to the list.”
“Why? Because she was jealous of Anne?”
“Yes. Why take it out on me?”
“One thing I noticed that no matter how dire someone’s circumstances are, people just go on with their lives around you. That includes getting angry for stupid reasons.”
“Bea was my best friend. Is my best friend. I don’t get it.”
“My brother is giving her a rough way to go right now and unfortunately, it looks like you might be taking some of the brunt of it,” Jason said. “The only way I know to protect you is to forbid them to come over. Is that what you want?”
“No. Not at all. It would be too difficult on the girls and on Fran.”
“My mother is ready to move in,” he said.
“Well, we might need her before long. Look I have to go to bed. Get out there and make sure Albie is being a gentleman.”
Jason kissed her and left the room, waving before he shut the door. Harley sat on the bed for a few more minutes, trying to move to get ready for bed. She was as tired as she could remember. Recalling the weeks after Angie was born, a one year old and a newborn to take care of, Harley didn’t know if she’d make it. Too proud to ask for help, she was so exhausted she once slept until nine in the morning, awaking to two screaming babies with sodden diapers whose regular waking time was six.
Or another time, working through midnight shift when there had been a bad snowstorm and nurses couldn’t get to work to do their reliefs. By the next morning, her father-in-law was waiting for her in his four-wheel drive pickup truck, ready to rescue her. Once she got home, her family curled up in front of the fireplace to watch TV while the snow continued to fall, but Harley couldn’t sleep. It felt like it took her months to recover from one night of lost sleep.
No matter how much sleep she was getting, she was still tired, and the physical sensations of exhaustion were a constant reminder of what was happening to her body. Once again, the cycle of grief segued from despair to anger. Why?
Forcing herself to preform her nightly routine, she finally rose and went into the bathroom. Striping off her clothing, a shower before bed was becoming crucial now, not just to wash the seepage from the wounds that were continuously popping up on her chest, but so she could smell as fresh as possible for her husband when he finally came to bed. She knew she had an odor; it was cancer sores and liver metastasis, oozing from her pores. Certain knowledge would be for her private awareness; she wouldn’t talk about it or share it with her family. They’d figure it out soon enough.
Dressed in her pajamas, she made the additional effort to clean up after herself, leaving the bathroom pristine, wrapping her dressings up carefully and disposing of them in an old grocery bag. In the morning she’d be sure to empty the trash, hiding what she could that might be offensive, especially if she died in her sleep.
The bed was calling her name, so she hurried through the last items, collapsing into the bed, asleep in seconds.
Chapter 21
Christmas
Saturday before Christmas dawned with a surprise; a light dusting of snow on the ground throughout southeastern Pennsylvania. The family awake long before Harley, by eleven Bennie voiced concerns.
“I’m going to check on Mom,” she told Jason.
“Let her sleep,” Jason replied, cleaning up the breakfast mess.
“This isn’t normal.”
“She said she was exhausted last night, Bennie. I think this might be the way it’s going to be from now on.”
“It makes me sick,” she cried. “Is this the countdown? Is Mom dying?”
“I hope not,” Jason said honestly, embracing her. “I’ll call her doctor Monday.” It was the standard response now, meant to quell fears, but useless; there was nothing that could be done for Harley.
As he sat on the bed Friday night, watching her moving around the room, he tried to memorize every thing about her. Harley was still a striking woman; her hair was gone, but soft, white peach fuzz grew back, never getting longer than an inch. Her head got cold at night so she wore the crocheted caps with ruffles around the edges that Tina made for her. The caps reminded Jason of old-fashioned boudoir caps that the colonial ladies might have worn. On Harley’s head, it was just cute, but he withheld commenting, knowing how vain she’d become. Freckles were evident through the pallor and because of them she still looked like the young woman he’d married twenty years before.
Gathering pajamas, she dressed in the bathroom away from Jason’s prying eyes. Jason vacillated between being sad and being grateful, seeing how thin she’d become was upsetting enough to destroy his desire to see her naked any longer. Walking out after a while dressed in long johns, she caught his eye and laughed.
“I guess I’ve reached an all time low,” she said, pulling the pant legs out from her sides. “Is this too much?”
“As long as you’re warm, I think it’s just fine. You’re cute,” he answered, smiling. “It’s not a union suit, is it?”
“Ha! No, they’re really pajamas,” she said, turning around to prove there was no drop seat.
Pulling the waistband out to show it was two pieces Jason saw her belly, swollen to a four month pregnancy size. Trying not to grimace, he wondered if she’d noticed and was in denial. Choosing not to say anything, it was just a matter of time before it would impede her breathing. Appetite diminished, Harley was never a big eater and Jason thought it was the course of cancer, not only the pressure on her internal organs from all the fluid buildup.
Going to her side of the bed, he pulled the bedding back. “Get in, Sleeping Beauty,” he said.
“I’m so tired, I can’t wait,” Harley replied, yawning.
Sliding in next to Jason, he embraced her and she snuggled next to him, burrowing down into the comforter. “I love you, Harley,” he said, kissing her head.
“Thank you, Jay. I love you, too,” she answered.
Within seconds, she was sleeping; her labored breathing seriously concerning for Jason. Too early for him to go to sleep, he’d keep watch, and if her breathing became worse, he’d insist she go to the hospital to have fluid drained off her abdomen, obvious the IV meds not doing the trick any longer.
Jason had made a decision to do all the Christmas decorating and shopping so Harley didn’t have to worry about it. The simple things were what seemed to matter to her now. One vivid encounter a few years before she was diagnosed came to mind; she was going to stop by the store on her way home from work and in a rare occurrence, Jason got home before she did. The house looked dark and lonely when he pulled into the garage although the girls were there with his mother.
“Let’s put the lights on,” he said, taking his coat off. “We can enjoy them earlier each night. Pretty soon, the sun will set at four-thirty.”
Harley had decorated the house by herself, placing electric candles in all the windows, even those facing their neighbor’s garage and the backyard, stringing white fairy lights on the bushes and along the split rail fencing. He hadn’t discovered timers yet, and she went around and manually switched on the lights every night when she got home from work.
On this particular night when she drove up to their house and saw the lights on, the joy it brought her, that someone else was contributing to making Christmas, set the tone for the entire holiday.
“All I did was turn the stinkin’ lights o
n, Harley. You’re acting like I performed a miracle or something,” he said.
But later, he realized it was his effort of helping her that made the difference. If that small act reaped such a huge response, he hoped taking charge of the tree and other decorating would do the same.
Bennie was working at her part-time sporting goods store job, but Tina and Angie were in the den reading. “Girls, would you like to pick up a tree?”
Tina hopped up from the recliner, her eyes sparkling. “You mean the Christmas tree?”
“Wow, this will be a first,” Angie said. “Should I be worried?”
“No, not at all. Mom’s in bed already so I thought we’d surprise her by having all the decorating done tonight. What do you say?”
“Tina, doesn’t Albie have a pickup truck?” Angie asked.
“He does. Should I call him?” she asked, directing the question at Jason.
“Yes, why don’t you? You can get a gigantic tree if Albie is willing to put it in his truck,” Jason said.
Albie agreed to drive the girls to buy a tree. Devon would stay with Jason and help him sort through ten large bins of Christmas decorations. “Daddy, we need to do this in the mud room,” she said.
“Why’s that?” Jason asked, frowning, preferring to drag everything out to the open den.
“Mommy doesn’t like the mess in the rest of the house. She said it gives her a headache.”
“How do you know that?”
“She told me last year,” Devon said. “I was always her helper.”
“Were you?” Jason asked, listening to her carefully. Everyone put a lot of effort into trying to protect Devon, and superficially she seemed unaware of the goings on around the Jones house. But after listening to her, Jason wondered if she wasn’t more aware of what was happening than they gave her credit for.
“Will you be my helper this year?” Jason asked.
“Are you doing it because Mommy is going to die?”
The sensation that someone had thrown a bucket of hot water at him, Jason swooped her up in his arms. How to answer that? “She is very sick,” he said, sidestepping. “But if we help with the Christmas decorations, it might make her very happy.”
Devon put her arms around Jason’s neck, hugging him. “I’m sad, Daddy.”
“Me, too, princess. Me too.”
Chapter 22
Spring
Maryanne took early retirement after all. “I have a little time left to be with my daughter,” she told her boss. “I’ll regret it if I don’t leave now. The few hundred dollars a month extra retirement income I’ll get by waiting isn’t worth it.”
Melissa and Kelly drove down to the retirement party in Delaware with Jason and the girls. The sisters would return with Maryanne driving her own car, packed for an extended stay, until…
No one expected Harley to go, although she pretended she was going to attend up until the last moment. “Maybe I’m too tired after all,” she said. Fran and Joe would take her to the shore, bundled up in the back of the van. He drove slowly for her, avoiding the bumps in the road.
“Are you comfortable back there?” he’d call out every fifteen minutes or so.
Harley would answer, “Great! I feel like I’m in a limousine.”
When they arrived, Joe carried her to her favorite spot; the lounge chair under the tortured oak, its newly leafed out branches shading the warmth of the sun.
Sitting with her face angled to the light, nothing felt as good as the heat on her skin. “Here you go,” Fran said, placing her ereader and a thermos of coffee on a stump she was using as a side table. The ereader would go unused, but she still wanted it there, just in case.
“I like to have the option, but it seems a shame to spend time reading about someone else’s fantasy when I can watch mine unfolding.”
The hours flew by, Fran trying not to hover, but offering Harley sips of sugared water, or chicken broth, anything she would consent to try. Occasionally, she’d make the walk inside to use the bathroom, leaning on Fran’s arm. She could still manage alone, Fran hovering outside the bathroom door.
“It just got this bad,” Fran told Bea. “Jason called me last night and said he thinks the time is getting close.”
Bea cried, but after the confrontation the weekend before Christmas, Harley didn’t ask for help from Bea, slowly extracting herself from needing her, feeling surely that it had hastened her impending death, the idea that a lifetime friendship would choose that moment to end as well. “I’m so sorry for the girls,” Bea said.
“When it’s all said and done, they’ll need you more,” Fran said. “Don’t pull away from them, too.”
“Is that what you think I’ve done?” she asked.
“Isn’t it? Over a stranger,” Fran said, critically. Dave had clued his mother in with the details; the dating service, his jealousy of Jason.
“I thought I’d apologized sufficiently,” Bea said, defensive.
“When she’s gone, you’re going to regret it,” Fran said. “You should get your family here for the weekend. I don’t think there’ll be many more with Harley at the shore.”
“Her mother will be there,” Bea said, making excuses. “There’s no room.”
“Then make the effort and just come for the day.”
“I’ll ask Dave,” Bea said. “What’s she doing now?”
“The only thing she can do,” Fran said, a sob catching in her throat. “Sittin’ in a lounge chair in the yard, waiting for her family to get back.”
Bea tried to imagine Harley no longer able to stroll on the beach, taking a dip in the ocean in her cut-off jeans and an old bra. She pictured Harley finding treasure to add to Bea’s collections of junk at local flea markets and garage sales, or in the delivery room with her when Michael was born, holding on to Dave, crying as the baby emerged from her body.
The last months had been hell without her best friend, but the wall had been erected the night Anne visited, Anne who meant nothing to either woman, who would never be heard from again.
“Okay, I’ll get Dave to come,” Bea told Fran. “But just so you know I have tried to talk to Harley.”
“Harley’s not all there,” Fran snapped. “Get over it. You just show up in a case like this and don’t expect nothin’ in return.”
“She doesn’t seem to be in much pain,” Maryanne said after spending a half an hour with her daughter before bedtime.
“She never complains of pain,” Jason said. “Just that she’s tired. You can see how weak she is.”
No one addressed the change in personality, it was too upsetting. Harley always had a smile on her face now. She would listen intently to whatever was being said to her and nod, pointing her finger. “Yes!” was a standard reply to everything. Or “I agree!”
The weekend was pleasant, if superficial. No one wanted to say anything too upsetting, ignoring the obvious. On Sunday, teetering between Bea and Melissa, Harley walked to the beach, and stood looking out to sea for a while. One stray tear made its way down her cheek, but when Melissa went to wipe it away, Harley claimed it was caused by the wind.
“What month is it again?” she asked. “It feels like fall.”
“It’s March,” Melissa said. “And you’re right, it feels like autumn.”
“You know I’m dying, right? This is the last time I’ll see the ocean.” Melissa and Bea bit their tongues, allowing her to speak.
“It’s a perfect day for it,” Melissa finally said.
“I love you, Sister,” Harley said.
Rarely, the expression of awareness would spark on her face, almost terror. The following Friday night, it happened.
Bolting upright in bed, she called for Jason, who came running.
“Where are the girls?” she asked, urgency in her voice.
“They’re all here, safe,” he’d said, holding her, wondering if the old Harley was back momentarily.
“Ask them in here,” she’d demand, and he’d call right away, the fo
ur of them running to the bedroom.
“Everyone, quick, tell me what you’ve been up to,” she’d beg, aware at times like this that her lucidity was sporadic. She’d let them fill in the gaps of her memory, asking how school was, Bennie’s job, how many weeks till prom or Angie’s graduation. Devon would snuggle with her, knowing they’d spend the last aware moments in each other’s arms while Harley read to her in a small voice she could barely hear.
“Angie, are you going to the prom?” she asked, wanting to see the dresses the girls were wearing, both made by Tina, admiring them, and the shoes, expensive designer shoes Maryanne had found dirt cheap at a thrift store in Rehoboth Beach.
The family would stay on the bed with Harley while she read the book to Devon, and slowly her voice would disappear and the vacant stare take over once again right before she fell asleep.
Later that night, the family had movie night like they always did, piled on the big couch. Devon had fallen asleep already and was curled up between Tina and Albie. Albie leaned over and got another piece of pizza from the box on the coffee table, surrounded with empty soda cans and used paper plates. In the old days, Harley would have cleared away the mess, but without her they’d leave it until the movie was over.
“Mom would hate it that we bring the box out here,” Bennie said. “She’d say, ‘Let’s pretend we’re civilized and keep the box in the kitchen.’”
“She’s not making it to graduation, is she Dad?” Angie asked.
“She might, sweetheart,” he said, thinking at the rate she was going, slowly torturing herself and everyone around her, she might last forever. “Let’s wait and see.”
Angie frowned, looking at her father. “Do we have a choice?”
Sighing, Jason patted her on the back. “You know what I mean. Poor Mom.”
“Yes, how sad,” she said before bursting into tears.
Exhausted, Jason did what he could to keep Harley comfortable when he was home, the family moving forward day by day. If Harley was aware of the effort he was making, she didn’t say anything and he didn’t point it out. Becoming the master of taking it one day at a time, he wasn’t aware of how numb he’d become.
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