Once in a Lifetime: (Becky) (Unnamed Duo Book 1)

by Luana Ferraz

  “Everything is fine,” grandma argues.

  “Yes, and I want to make sure it stays fine, okay?” Doctor Haddish smiles sweetly, patting her hand again. Grandma sighs, defeated, making the doctor chuckle. “Okay, I’ll leave you now, but if you need anything, Patrick is right out front.”

  “Thanks, doctor,” grandma manages to say, even if frustrated.

  “No problem,” the doctor smiles, then turns to me. “Can I talk to you outside for a minute?”

  My heart sinks in my chest. In the two seconds it takes me to follow her outside, my mind already comes up with the worst possible scenarios. It’s not so simple as she said it is. Grandma is not leaving the hospital. She’s dying.

  “Is she going to be okay?” I ask in a low voice as soon as we step out.

  “Rebecca, right?” she asks.

  “Becky,” I correct her, but she seems to ignore me.

  “She’s going to be just fine. It’s really a common condition, but I really need her to take her meds, okay? The treatment will have no effect if she doesn’t,” she says in a serious tone.

  “Okay,” I nod.

  “And she really needs to rest,” she adds. She glances over at her door, and then back at me. When she speaks again, her voice is soft but her expression is hard. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but Eileen shouldn’t go through any stress right now.”

  “Okay, right,” I nod again.

  “At least for these first few days, it’s important that she’s not subject to any kind of intense emotions,” she continues and I can feel myself blush with embarrassment.

  “She won’t, I assure you,” I say, mortified.

  “Good,” she smiles and pats my arm the same way she did with grandma. “I’m gonna leave a copy of all the information I gave her at the nurse station. You can request it before you leave.”

  “Thank you, doctor,” I say. She only nods and then walks away, leaving me alone with my shame.

  I lean against the cold wall, bracing myself and closing my eyes. I take several deep breaths. How hard can it be to be a decent human? This is not about me. This is not the time to make it about me. I’m not going to mend the last four years in a day. I might not ever mend the last four years. But I’ll have to live with that. I have to be there for her, the same way she was there for me when I needed it. That’s all I have to do right now.

  I feel someone touching my arm and I jump away, opening my eyes. It’s Tyler. He’s standing in front of me, that curious and concerned expression on his face.

  “Sorry,” he sighs, retrieving his hand. His eyes never leave mine. “Are you okay?”

  I open my mouth to say that I am but stop myself. Does he want the honest answer now, too? Or is he just asking? I can’t tell. But I know what option I want to take.

  So I shake my head, biting my lip to hold in the tears that are threatening me again. His frown softens into a small, sympathetic smile, and he reaches out his hand again, slowly, until he touches my arm. He runs his thumb carefully against my sleeve. Without thinking, I take a few steps forward and bury my face in his chest. He stiffens, clearly not expecting this reaction. But then he lets out a long sigh and his arms snake around me. I hug his waist, pulling him closer, and, for a blissful moment, just enjoy how good it feels. And, at that moment, I don’t wish those arms were Pete’s.

  “She’s going to be discharged tomorrow,” I say to his shirt.

  “We can stay,” he says back, and the closeness of his mouth to my ear sends shivers down my back.

  I reluctantly let go from the embrace, taking a few steps back. I look him in the eyes, debating how to tell him I’m thinking about staying longer. But I can’t. I can’t say it. And I’m not sure I can do it.

  “I’m… going…” I stutter, pointing to the door.

  “Do you need anything?” he asks softly.

  I really want to ask for another hug. Like, really. But I shake my head and smile, going back to grandma.

  ***

  I reenter the room in silence, my head down, my arms crossed over my chest. I feel like a teenager again. I can’t face her.

  “Come here,” she says.

  I walk over and when I’m close enough, she sits up and holds my chin, so our eyes are leveled.

  “I will always want you,” she whispers. “Always.”

  That’s all it takes for the dam to break. I throw myself at her, washing her gown with my tears once again. She pulls me closer until I’m almost sitting on her lap, running that soothing hand up and down my back. She doesn’t say anything for a while, waiting for me to calm down.

  “I’m sorry,” I say in between sniffs.

  “No, honey, I’m sorry,” she answers.

  “It’s not your fault I’m so messed up.”

  “Don’t say that!” she tuts, slapping my arm softly. “You’re perfect, dearie. Just perfect.”

  I snort. If there’s anyone as far from perfect as possible, that someone is me. I decide to drop this line of conversation, and, instead, I say, “I’ll stay if you ask me to.”

  “I know, dearie. That’s why I’m not asking,” she sighs. Then, she pushes me until I’m sitting up and looking at her. “You know what my greatest fear is? That you’re not happy. And I know that this place doesn’t make you happy. You’re right, maybe I’ve not been entirely honest with you, maybe this fact bothers me, but I have no right to hold you down.”

  “You don’t hold me down, granny,” I argue, guilty welling up my eyes again.

  “Well, I’ve certainly tried,” she chuckles. And another sigh. “Yes, I wish you had made better choices. I wish you were healthier. I wish you had a more stable job and that you didn’t ruin your hair…”

  “Grandma…” I roll my eyes. She always complains about my hair.

  “But above all, I wish you were happy. I wish I had done a better job of making you happy.” She holds my face, smiling sadly.

  I wish I had done a better job of being grateful.

  “You did the best job,” I tell her.

  She just pulls me closer and we stay like that for a long time. She holds me firmly, and the tightness is familiar—she’s held me like this for days after my parents left me. Left us. It was the only thing that kept me from breaking apart. I can’t believe how much I missed it. I can’t believe I once swore to never let her hold me again.

  We’re interrupted when Patrick comes in with her lunch and I’m startled by how long I’ve stayed in here.

  “Do you want me to bring something for you, too?” he asks with that bright grin I’m becoming used to.

  “No, thanks,” I smile back. Then I remember poor Tyler waiting outside all this time.

  As I tell grandma I’m going out to eat, she asks me to come by the house and bring her some stuff—mainly clean clothes for her to wear tomorrow. I agree and step out. I find Tyler spread across one of the benches in the waiting area, going through his phone.

  “I should have told you to leave,” I say as I notice how tired he looks.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t,” he says nonchalantly. Something tugs in my stomach, and it’s not by the lack of food. “How is she?”

  “Better,” I nod. “She asked me to bring her some stuff, so I’m going back to the house.”

  “Okay,” he says, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. His t-shirt rises up, revealing a strip of skin that involuntarily captures my gaze. He notices, quickly pulling it down. For some reason, it makes me smile.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask.

  “I could eat,” he answers.

  “Okay, come on,” I turn around, leading the way back to the car.

  ***

  I make a few stops along the way—the grocery store and the pharmacy. I want to make sure grandma has everything she needs when she comes home.

  I decide to cook, a half-assed attempt to make it up to Tyler. He frowns when I announce my plans, but says nothing. He helps me out, washing some stuff, opening some cans, setting the table. We
don’t talk but it doesn’t bother me. After last night, I think it’s better if we keep it to ourselves, anyway.

  “Did you really stay up all night?” I ask as we eat. He’s yawning and rubbing his face a lot. It could just be regret, though.

  “Yes, I did,” he answers through a mouthful.

  “Why?” I frown.

  “It was a dare,” he says as if it explains it.

  “Yeah, but you were the one who said ‘fuck it’. I asked ‘what about the dare’, and you said ‘fuck it’,” I remind him, despite it not being a good idea.

  He looks up, squinting his eyes. For a moment, I feel like he’s about to ask ‘are you crazy, woman?’ To which I would have to reply ‘unfortunately, yes’. But then he chuckles.

  “I clearly didn’t mean it,” he says, raising his eyebrows slightly. He’s still pissed, I can tell. But being able to joke about it must be a good sign.

  “You should sleep,” I say, deciding to drop the subject. He sighs heavily, nodding, and then something else occurs to me. “Or go.”

  He whips his head back up, frowning again. “Go where?”

  “To Manchester,” I explain. Then I try to think of a way to say he doesn’t need to stay without sounding ungrateful. “Well, things are calmer now. I think. I’m just going to be at the hospital until I can bring grandma home. You don’t need to wait around.”

  He nods, still frowning, and I’m not sure I was successful in my attempt. Then, when I break our gaze to continue eating, he says, “I’m not leaving here without you.”

  Now it’s my head that whips up in surprise. There’s resolve on his features, and I’m strangely glad he said that.

  “Sleep, then,” I say and he smiles.

  We finish our meal in companionable, warm silence. I let him wash the dishes again as I run around gathering the things grandma requested to bring to her. I meet him back in the living room, already splayed out on the couch. I feel like I owe him. For putting up with me. And for staying.

  “Do you want to sleep on my bed?” I offer, then.

  He looks at me, his eyebrows rising slightly. He chews on his bottom lip as he thinks.

  “Yes.” His face is unreadable, as usual. I should stop trying.

  I lead the way up the stairs and into my room. I don’t know why I do that, he knows where my room is, he’s been there before. I stop at the door and he enters, standing beside the bed.

  “So…” I say, unsure of what to do. “Do you want me to leave the car?”

  “Nope,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets and just staring. Awkwardly.

  “Okay,” I nod. Awkwardly. “If you need anything…”

  “I won’t, but I’ll text you,” he says. Then, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I don’t have your number, though.”

  As I type it in his phone, I can only think that this is such a smooth way of getting my number. I’d probably not give it to him in a different situation.

  “Here you go.” I hand him the phone back. “I’ll be back around eight, it’s when visiting ends.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll bring something for dinner.”

  “Okay.”

  I don’t know what else to say, so I leave. I leave Tyler Hackley standing alone in the middle of my childhood bedroom. What is wrong with me?

  I stop myself from thinking about it. I climb down the stairs, grab the car keys and grandma’s stuff, and leave again. Before I can even start the car, though, my phone buzzes. It’s an unknown number.

  ‘If you need anything…’

  ***

  Midway to the hospital, my phone alarm rings. It’s the reminder to call Pete I recorded earlier. So, as soon as I park outside, I grab my phone and call him. He picks up after the second ring.

  “Finally!” is the first thing he yells.

  “I know, I know,” I sigh.

  “Okay, give me one second to settle down and then lay it on me,” he says, making me smile. God, I miss him already. “Okay. Shoot. Spare no detail.”

  That’s what I do. I try to recount the last 48 hours in as much detail as possible. I tell him about my reunion with Eileen, seeing his parents, getting called off by the doctor, and even the cute nurse. I also tell him about my constant want to cry. I leave out Tyler’s parts. He doesn’t need to know about those.

  “So, that’s what you missed on Glee,” I joke when I finish.

  “Not so much glee, it seems,” he sighs, gloomy.

  “No,” I sigh, too.

  “I’m sorry Becks,” his heavy breath indicates he means it. “I should be there with you.”

  “No, you shouldn’t. But I wish you were,” I admit.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeats.

  “Don’t be. I’m fine. Everything will be fine.”

  “Right.” He pauses. I know what he’s going to ask next, so I start preparing an answer. “And how is our favorite pop star?”

  “Currently asleep,” I inform mechanically.

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “But it’s the only answer I have.”

  “Right,” he sighs again, knowing he’ll have a better chance to interrogate me when we’re face to face.

  “How is Tristan?” I return the question and he chuckles.

  “Ask Lindsey,” he replies, making me sit up straight.

  “What?”

  “Ah, it’s quite a long story, but they’re getting along too well.” I can practically hear his eye roll.

  “No way!”

  “Yes way.”

  “How do you feel about it?” I ask because he sounds annoyed. “Did Lindsey notice the chemistry between you two?”

  “First of all, there’s no chemistry,” he says offended. “Second, yes, of course she noticed.”

  “Oh my God, Pete!” I can hardly conceal my amusement.

  “I’ll tell you all about it when you come back,” he says. “By the way, when are you coming back?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I feel the heaviness of the reality install its weight back on my shoulders. “I can’t leave grandma alone.”

  “Call my mom,” he says it like an order.

  “Pete…”

  “Call her.”

  “I can’t ask—”

  “Just call her,” he interrupts me and I sigh. “You know you won’t have to ask her, right? She’ll probably just offer as soon as you mention Eileen will be discharged tomorrow. But it will mean the world to her if you call her.”

  “I’ll call her,” I end up agreeing, because Pete’s right.

  “Okay. You have about an hour.”

  “Pete!” I complain.

  “Call her!”

  “I will.”

  “And come back soon. We’re on our way to Manchester, by the way,” he tells me, as if I didn’t already know.

  “I know, Tyler told me,” I say, hoping he notices the accusation in my tone.

  “Good,” he replies simply. It bothers me. I don’t think this whole situation with Lindsey and Tristan is as simples as he’s implying. But before I can ask anything, he adds “We’re arriving within the hour.” He says it as Todd does, and we laugh.

  “Okay, I’ll let you know when we leave.”

  “Okay,” he pauses again, and I know a joke is coming up. “Enjoy your last hours alone with Tyger.”

  I can’t even answer. I can’t even come up with an answer. I howl, laughing so hard, I start to cry. After a full minute, my stomach hurts. I thank the heavens that I made this call while still in the car, otherwise I’d earn another scolding from the hospital staff.

  “I hate you!” I manage to say, drying my face. “You’ve ruined his name forever.”

  “Good luck not thinking about it whenever you look at him,” he says, still laughing.

  “You’re the worst!” I yell. Then we say goodbye and hang up.

  And I’m back to the silence, alone. Except now I feel a little less desperate. I still hate the idea of asking for help, of throwing
responsibility onto someone else. Johanna has done more than enough for me over the years.

  I hate that grandma is unhealthy, and old, and is probably going to die. Yes, everybody dies. I still hate it.

  I’m still debating whether to follow Pete’s advice when I enter grandma’s room—and find Johanna already there.

  “Pete just texted me saying that if you didn’t call me in the next hour, I should call you,” she says as she hugs me fiercely. “What do you need, sweetie?”

  Damn you, Pete.

  I can’t ask her to take care of my grandmother in front of my grandmother. We just barely got back to being on good terms. Then, I remember something.

  “Oh, I was just going to ask if the dinner invitation is still up,” I say and she beams.

  “Of course, my love!” She pulls me and hugs me again. “You didn’t need to ask!”

  ***

  We end up leaving a couple of hours before visiting ends as grandma gets tired. I suspect she only said she was tired to get rid of Jo—they don’t get along all that well. I mean, grandma doesn’t get along with her all that well. She’s always been annoyed by the way Jo basically adopted both of us as part of her family. I think she’s always been a little jealous because I spent so much time in her house. I was mostly with Pete, but there’s no reasoning with Eileen sometimes. I guess I do have a lot of her in me.

  I end up going to Pete’s parents’ house and helping Jo with dinner. I mostly listen as she talks about Dan, Evie and Avie, and even Pete. She’s always been like this—talkative, open, not a fan of silences. The more I don’t participate in the conversation, the more she talks. Pete really has a lot of her in him.

  After the casserole is in the oven and the table is set, we sit down on the couch with a glass of wine while we wait for everyone to get home. I grab my phone to check the time and notice Tyler didn’t reply to my text. I tried calling him on the way over, but he didn’t pick up. I’m kind of relieved he won’t be here and that I won’t have to deal with explaining his presence.