“My father had a genetic illness called Huntington’s disease. There is a fifty percent chance I have it,” I said.
She looked up, her eyes dark and full of sadness. Her brows creased together as she continued to scowl at me. She was angry. Not that I blamed her; I’d be angry with me, too.
“Your father, he died from this?” she demanded.
“Wrenn—”
“Answer the fucking question, Dalton!”
“Yes, okay? Is that what you want to hear? Yes, Wrenn, there is a fifty-fifty chance I might have this wonderful disease that will eventually kill me.”
“Were you ever going to tell me?” She wiped her eyes.
I wanted so badly to reach out and comfort her. I nodded.
“When? Because if you were waiting until I’d already fallen for you, you’re right on time.” She pushed past me and ran to her car.
“Wrenn, will you please talk to me?” I yelled after her.
She didn’t stop. I stood there, helpless, as she jumped into her car and took off.
Fuck! I kicked a stray stone into the lake. Of all the scenarios I’d run through in my head of the time I finally told her, this was a thousand times worse.
All I wanted was to spare her pain, but in the process I’d hurt her more. I had lied to her, plain and simple. As soon as we began to get serious, I should’ve told her. But I hadn’t and it became harder and harder as time moved on.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Wrenn
I threw myself down on my bed, not bothering to strip the wet clothes from my body. This couldn’t be happening. How could life be so unfair? The thought of losing him was too much. I couldn’t go through life with him just waiting for this disease to attack.
I sat up and walked over to my desk. Sitting down, I flicked open my laptop. I typed “Huntington’s disease” into Google and clicked on the first link: an entry from the Huntington’s Society of America. I’d never even heard of it. I had no idea what it entailed, or what kind of life he could expect if he did in fact have the disease. Would he just drop dead one day? Would there be symptoms? All these questions were racing through my mind, unanswered.
. . . Huntington’s disease is a neurodegenerative disease that causes breakdown of brain cells . . .
. . . symptoms include muscle coordination loss, memory loss and loss of cognitive function . . .
. . . no known cure . . .
. . . life expectancy after initial showing of symptoms is usually ten to twenty years . . .
I slammed the laptop shut and stood up. I felt sick. Reading any more was going to make me feel worse. As amazing as the internet was, when it came to finding correct information, searching while an emotional mess was not a good idea.
Grabbing my phone, I deleted the numerous missed calls and texts from Dalton, and called Kass.
“What’s up?” Kass answered almost immediately, sounding like her usual upbeat self.
“It’s me. I need to get out of here. Will you come with me?” My tone must have told her this was serious, because for once she didn’t question me.
“Of course. I’ll be there in ten.”
Hanging up, I shoved a change of clothes into an overnight bag along with my brush and toothbrush. Zipping it up, I went downstairs. Thank God everyone was out. I left Layna a note saying I’d gone out with Kass and would be back the next day. Before I went outside, I fished around in the bottom drawer for the spare key to the beach house. My fingers finally grasped hold of it. Shoving it into my pocket, I went outside to wait for Kass.
***
True to her word, ten minutes later Kass pulled into the driveway. I climbed into the passenger seat and clicked on my seatbelt. Kass glanced at me with concern as she backed out of the driveway.
“Are you okay?”
“Not really.” I muttered. I put my head back and closed my eyes. “Can we go to Cinter Beach? My aunt has a holiday house there.”
Kass nodded. For the first time ever, she was speechless. She could see I was upset, and I think she didn’t know whether to try and get me to talk or not.
The first fifteen minutes of our drive were spent in total silence. Kass was focused on driving, and me, I was lost in my thoughts. Sighing, I stared out the window. The storm had passed, but the day was still miserable, reflecting my mood perfectly.
“He might be sick.”
Kass whipped her head around, alarmed. Her brown eyes were full of concern as she waited for me to continue.
“Dalton,” I clarified. “He might be dying.”
“What do you mean?” Kass said carefully. Her hands clenched the steering wheel as she glanced intermittently at me.
I snorted. “I don’t know. He might have a genetic disease that is terminal, but it won’t show up for years. Decades, even. But it will, eventually, kill him.”
“Oh, Wrenn. Shit, that’s bad. There is no way to find out whether he has it?” she asked softly.
I shrugged. What did I know? Nothing.
She reached over to me, her hand closing over mine. “I’m so sorry, Wrenn.”
“He didn’t even tell me himself, Kass. I overhead Layna on the phone to his mom. How could he not tell me something like that?”
I shook my head, still so angry. I deserved to know if the guy I was falling in love with was going to die. I deserved to fucking know, dammit. I felt cheated. Betrayed. Would knowing that have changed the way I’d felt about him? It didn’t change who he was, but it might have affected my decision to chase him.
“Maybe he didn’t know how to broach it. I can’t imagine it would be an easy conversation to start,” she reasoned.
I glanced at her.
Maybe she was right. I gazed out the window again, closing my eyes. Maybe he was trying to protect me. I could’ve gone the next twenty years not knowing that I might lose him. Would that have been better than this?
I didn’t know. God, I was so confused.
***
“Wrenn.”
I opened my eyes and glanced around. Cinter Beach. Where I had spent the majority of my childhood vacations. Smooth, white sand that stretched for miles, crystal clear water, cute little ice cream stores that stayed open late into the night. Not so much in the dead of winter, though.
I had so many memories. Remembering made me sad. It made me wish Mom was there so I could talk to her. What advice would she give me? Forgetting for a moment that Dalton was my teacher, Mom would’ve told me to go with my heart. True, unconditional love was such a rare thing to find that a short time was better than not experiencing it at all.
“Up on the hill. The one with the white fence,” I mumbled, realizing that Kass was waiting for directions. As she drove along the boulevard, memories of my childhood came rushing back: Dad, teaching me how to body board; eating ice cream on the beach with Mom and Layna; fighting with Jordan over which room was mine. I wiped a stray tear from my eye.
Kass pulled into the driveway. I opened the door and stepped out. We walked up the steps together to the front door. I hadn’t been there since the summer before the accident. As I walked to the door, a sense of peace overwhelmed me, despite the crazy memories flooding back. I felt close to my family here, close like I hadn’t felt in weeks—months, even.
Inside, we walked through to the kitchen. Everything looked just as it had two years ago, but for a thin layer of dust covering the sofa and the small glass coffee table lying in front of it. I walked out the back, over to the fuse box, and clicked on the power and water. Inside, the kitchen lit up and the fridge came to life.
“This place is nice,” muttered Kass, turning full circle, her expression one of awe. “You’ve been hiding this little gem from me,” she accused.
“I’d forgotten about it,” I admitted, sinking into an oversized leather armchair.
Kass joined me, sinking into its twin. Maybe ‘forgotten’ was the wrong word. I’d pushed this place out of my mind so I didn’t have to deal with the memories.
; “Do you wanna talk about it?” Kass asked gently.
“I don’t know what there is to say.” Would talking change anything? Nope. “Do you know anything about Huntington’s disease?” I half joked.
She shook her head. “And please tell me you haven’t Googled it,” she added.
I winced.
“Wrenn! God, stay off the freaking computer. Talk to Dalton. You have questions, ask him. God,” she said again, shaking her head. “Didn’t you learn that time you thought you had cancer because Dr. Google analyzed your symptoms?”
Obviously not.
I checked my phone. Twenty missed calls. I held it up so Kass could see. She groaned and shook her head. I knew what she was thinking: give the poor guy a break. Only, I wasn’t ready to. I didn’t trust myself to get through a sentence without bursting into tears. I needed time to digest all of this. I needed time to figure out what my next move was.
“I’m going for a walk,” I mumbled, standing up.
“Do you want me to come?” Kass asked.
I shook my head. I needed some space. I needed time alone to figure out my head. I leaned over and hugged her, knowing how lucky I was to have a friend like her.
***
About a five minute walk down the road and off a dirt track was the little swimming spot where we used to go. The white sandy stretch of beach was sheltered by huge oak trees which made it the perfect spot to relax.
I walked over and sat down on the broken tree that served as a seat. I ran my fingers over the engravings carved into the wood, one in particular catching my eye: Best summer ever, 2009.
I had been fourteen that summer. We had come down to the beach house for the entire summer vacation, and I had met a boy. It was that summer I had my first kiss. I smiled as I remembered telling Mom after it had happened. We’d sat up late drinking hot cocoa, talking about things, and somehow the conversation became about him.
I couldn’t even remember the boy’s name. Sam or Steve or something. I never saw or heard from him again, but it was the closeness I felt to Mom that I’d cherish forever.
Kicking off my shoes, I walked over to the edge of the shore and dipped my toes in the freezing water. I watched as the tiny waves lapped at my feet before being soaked up into the sand, then falling back into the sea.
My mind turned to Dalton. I thought about how special he made me feel. Nobody had made me feel that way in such a long time. It sucked this was happening, but it didn’t change the way I felt about him.
It didn’t change the fact that I was in love with him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dalton
I paced the bedroom with my hands on my head, waiting for her to call. Or text. Anything. God, I was such an idiot. Her finding this out was bad enough, but to not hear it from me? That was worse. So much worse.
“Fuck!” I kicked the wall, instantly regretting it as a large hole appeared, about the size of my shoe. I watched as little fragments of plaster fell away to the floor. See, this was why I’d avoided relationships. How could you plan your future when you might not have one?
We found out my dad had Huntington’s when I was four. The fact that he had it meant one of his parents would have also had it. His being adopted at age one meant the genetic risk was not identified until it was too late.
Dad was forty-two when he was diagnosed with the disease, and fifty-three when he died. His diagnosis was the reason they’d decided not to have any more children. His progression had been fast, much faster than usual, but the speed of progression was also a genetic factor. Did it mean I would develop symptoms earlier and faster? Possibly.
Basically, when it boiled down to it, if I did have the mutation, there was a fifty percent chance that I would display symptoms by the age of forty. A simple little test could potentially tell me with one hundred percent accuracy whether I had the disease or not. But was that something I wanted to know?
Until now, not knowing had been better than finding out I had it. Not knowing gave me hope. But now it wasn’t just me; I had to think of Wrenn. If she even still wanted to be with me.
I picked up my phone and dialed Mom, needing her advice. She had been trying to get me to have the test for years, without success. She would want to know why I’d suddenly changed my mind.
“Dalton.” She sounded surprised to hear from me.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to relieve some of the tension from the last few days. “How are you?”
“Good. Is something wrong? You sound upset.”
“No, everything is fine. I’ve just been thinking . . . I think I want to get tested.” Mom was silent. I waited a moment to let my words sink in before the barrage of questions started.
“What’s brought this on?” she asked. “I’m glad you’ve decided to find out, but you’ve always been so adamant about not being tested.”
“I know, but things have changed. I need to know, one way or the other. I need to live, Mom. I can’t keep waiting for something that might not happen. No matter how much I try and push it away, it’s always there, eating at me.”
“I’ll call Dr. Martin and arrange it,” Mom said, referencing the doctor who’d cared for Dad while he was alive. Apparently, he was one of the top Huntington’s specialists in the country.
“Okay. Thanks, Mom.” I felt a sense of relief. I was one step closer to knowing my fate. After I ended the call, I tried Wrenn again. I nearly fainted when Kass answered.
“Dalton.” She sounded tired.
“Kassia. Is Wrenn there? Will she speak to me?” I asked, trying to keep the sheer desperation out of my voice.
“Look, we’re at her aunt’s holiday house. 430 The Boulevard, Cinter Beach. If you come down, I’ll disappear for a few hours.”
“God, thank you Kassia. I’m on my way.”
***
I knocked on the door to the beach house, still unsure of my game plan.
An hour in the car, and I still had nothing. Really, what was there to say? I could apologize all day for not telling her, but I knew deep down that wasn’t the real issue.
Kass opened the door. She smiled and let me in. “She’s in the living room, down the end and to the right.” She slipped out the door, shutting it behind her.
I walked down the hallway of the huge house. Everything was so perfect, so new—it was like a display home. And strangely, it was all so familiar. I felt like I had been there before.
Wrenn was curled up on the sofa, facing away from me. I edged closer, my heart racing. The TV was on low. She turned around, her eyes wide, shocked at the sight of me. I thought I saw a glimmer of a smile, but as quickly as it was there, it was gone. Emotion after emotion swept through her eyes: shock, happiness, sorrow, and then confusion.
“You’re here,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Let me guess. Kass?”
I nodded, and walked around the sofa.
She sat up, allowing me to sit down next to her. I put my hand on her thigh, over her faded jeans. She wore an old blue sweatshirt, and her hair was tangled and unbrushed, tied up in a pony tail. Regardless, she looked beautiful.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” I muttered, taking her hand in mine.
“I did some research.” She turned to look at me. “So this test can tell you if you have it, and when you’ll show symptoms?” She looked so scared, I just wanted to wrap my arms around her and take away the pain.
“It will tell me if I carry the disease. It can suggest how early I will display symptoms, but it’s not accurate regarding the symptoms.” I tried to explain, but there was so much to tell. I’d had all my life to learn about this disease, and there was shit that I myself still didn’t know.
“How old was your dad?” she asked. “When the symptoms began?”
“Forty-two. Though he was symptomatic for a couple of years beforehand but they couldn’t say for sure if that was the Huntington’s or not.”
“Did
they know there was a chance when they had you? That he had it?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Dad was adopted. He never knew his real parents.” I took a deep breath. “Look, Wrenn, I understand if this is too much for you. I get it. That’s why I tried to distance myself from you early on. You lost your family. I couldn’t imagine putting you through losing me too.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she took in what I was saying. “I don’t want to not be with you, Dalton, but the idea of losing you? I don’t know if I can handle that,” she said quietly.
I took her hand in mine, entwining our fingers together. “You don’t need to decide now. In fact, I don’t want you to. I want you to think about it for as long as you need to.” I paused, the next sentence sticking in my throat. “I’m having the test,” I added quietly.
“You are?” she said, her eyes widening.
“I am. I want to know. Being with you made me realize I need to know the truth.” I sighed, so angry at the situation. “Wrenn, I need you to be fully informed. If I do have Huntington’s, you deserve to know exactly what it means. Ask me anything.”
“Huh?”
‘You said you Googled. That means you have questions. Ask me anything and I’ll do my best to answer.”
She turned her body toward me, unsure and afraid. She didn’t say anything for a while, she just sat there, staring at the floor.
“What are the symptoms?” she finally asked quietly.
“The most common symptom usually noticed first is muscle twitching. Involuntary movement, that kind of thing. Other symptoms are restlessness, clumsiness, dropping things, and tripping.” I paused, watching her intently. “There can also be mental symptoms such as depression, memory loss, impulsiveness…”
“How does it kill you? I mean, you said your dad died from it,” she asked in a small voice.
“The disease itself doesn’t kill, it’s things like pneumonia, choking on food, and organ failure that cause eventual death.”
“Oh,” she said, her eyes dropping to the floor. “How quickly does it progress? Was your dad able to walk before he died? I mean, was he mobile?”
Always You Page 13