by Lucy Smoke
“Harlow, please—” He stopped. He must have realized where we were, or perhaps he was confused, because when I looked back, he was looking around with furrowed brows. “Where are we?”
“We’re where I come to for advice,” I said as I bypassed the lobby and receptionist desk. Marie, one of the part-time receptionists there that I had met before, lifted her hand in welcome and, like I had done with the older couple before, I nodded at her before continuing on. She was a bit more lenient than some of the others that worked there, especially with regular visitors like me. She usually let me sign in and out when I left, but she did raise an eyebrow at Michael as he followed along behind me.
“What?” Michael caught up to me, striding alongside me—that look of confusion still etched across his features. I shook my head. He would find out soon enough.
I took a turn that led towards the residential area of the Care Center, where long term patients were housed. Michael must have finally realized something because as soon as I reached Mom’s door, he stopped, reaching out and grabbing my arm in a vice-like grip. But by that point, I was done playing nice. I turned—the way Knix and Bellamy had taught me—and ripped my arm out of his grip, deftly snatching his wrist and pinning his behind his back.
“Don’t ever try to stop me from seeing my mom,” I said in a low voice before I released him just as quickly. I stepped back and he turned, blinking at me in shock. “If you don’t want to see her, you don’t have to,” I said. “But now that she’s being properly medicated, she’s not the same person.”
“Harlow, I don’t think that I…” Michael stepped back, as though the open doorway leading into my mom’s room was the entrance to a world that might change everything for him. I honestly didn’t want to push him, but here was the opportunity. I brought him. It was his turn to make the choice.
“It’s okay,” I said, answering his unspoken question. “If you’re uncomfortable with coming in, you can wait out here. I wasn’t planning on staying long. Just sit over there.” I gestured to a seating area across the way next to one of the nurses' stations. “I’ll be out soon.”
And with that, I left him standing in the hallway and entered the room, steeling myself for whatever happened.
Mom was dozing lightly when I entered the room, the soft glow of the television mounted to the wall throwing strange shades of blue and white over her face and the wall. I sighed—even if Michael decided to come in, he might lose his chance to talk to her. I moved across the room quietly, reaching for the remote and turned the screen off. As soon as the noise from the old sitcom rerun was halted, however, Mom started and lifted her head, a little string of drool crusting the edge of her mouth.
“Harlow?” she mumbled sleepily.
I smiled at her. “Sorry,” I said, “did I wake you?”
“Hmmm? Oh, no, dear.” I knew she was being polite, but still, I felt a little bad. She looked rather exhausted today, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun and dark circles underlining her eyes. She blinked and looked to the half closed curtains. “Will you open those for me, sweetie?”
“Sure.” I strode across the room, grasping the lapels of the curtains as I flung them open, letting the sunlight into the small, drab room. There was a strange silence behind me as I adjusted the curtains at the bottom when they got caught up in the heating and air conditioning unit. I turned after I freed the fabric from the bulky appliance and paused.
Michael stood in the doorway, looking awkward and hesitant. “M-Mikey?” Mom’s voice was hoarse as if all of the emotion in the world were suddenly filling her throat.
“Hi, Mom.”
My eyes bounced between them as Michael took a step further into the room. I slid to the side, moving past the television towards the door as an awkward silence passed between the two of them. I paused on the other side of the door as Michael met Mom’s watery gaze.
“W-what are you doing here?” she asked.
Michael gestured towards where I was standing without looking my way. “Harlow brought me...I was in town and I...I didn’t want to come, but…” He froze as if he hadn’t meant to admit that he didn’t want to see her. One lone tear escaped my mother’s eyes and slid down her cheek. I backed up against the door.
“I don’t blame you, Mikey. I-I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to speak to me after…” Mom took a breath, sucking it back as she folded her shaking hands in her lap. “I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to speak to me after everything I did to you.”
Michael didn’t look comfortable. In fact, he didn’t look like he knew how to reply, but I knew my presence wasn’t exactly making it easy for him to speak openly. He kept glancing back at me as though he expected me to say something, for me to kick him out, or perhaps save him. I wasn’t planning on doing either.
I stepped even further back and then I turned and walked out. I heard Michael’s quick inhale just as I stepped to the other side of the doorway. “Can I sit?” I heard him ask, a small smile coming to my lips as he spoke.
One way or another, they would figure out things between the two of them. If Michael never wanted to come back then that was his choice and if he did, well, that was also his choice. I did what I could.
Did that mean I forgave him for trying to tell me what to do with the guys? No. I understood him, but whatever happened between him and Mom, I wasn’t leaving the guys. I knew if things went well, too, that Mom would hopefully impart some of her own understanding. She knew about the guys, she accepted them—and me and our relationship. Hopefully, that would also be enough for Michael.
Chapter 20
I shifted in the uncomfortable plastic waiting room chair and leaned back against the wall, pulling out my phone as Michael and Mom talked. I opened up my messages and pulled up an old group message. Typing Grayson’s name into the add bar, I sent a quick message.
Harlow: I’m at the Care Center. Be home later.
Bellamy: Is that where you went with your brother?
Harlow: Yeah.
Knix: K. I should be back from the construction site soon.
Texas: Hurry home!
Marv: See you soon, Sunshine.
I sighed. Still no reply from Grayson. I knew I shouldn’t let it hurt me so, but it was difficult not to. We had known each other for months, and to be honest, it felt like we were always falling apart rather than together, and then bam—the stars had aligned. I closed my eyes, remembering the night he and I had gone out on a date.
"Promise me something?" I had said. "Promise me you won't regret this." And he had promised.
Now that promise was broken and with it, my heart was cracked. I bit my lip, feeling the well of rage and pain and hurt and heartbreak rise within me. It wasn't fair. I should have known better. Me dating multiple guys, there was a reason people didn't do that. This type of relationship—the one that the guys had started with me—it bred deceit and pain.
"Harlow?" My eyes popped open at the sound of a familiar voice.
"Dr. Galston?" I sat up quickly as my mom's primary care physician approached me.
"I didn't know you were visiting today," he said, "but I was hoping to speak with you. Do you have a moment?"
I glanced away from Dr. Galston's polite blue eyes towards the open doorway to my mom's room. "My brother's visiting," I said hesitantly. I didn't want him walking out and not knowing where I had gone.
Guessing my predicament, the doctor nodded in understanding. "I can ask one of the nurses to let him know where you've gone if he should leave before you get back," he offered.
I nodded. "Thanks, I appreciate that."
As Dr. Galston strode over to the nurses' station to let them know, I got up and followed after him. He turned a small but strained smile my way before nodding down the hall. "To my office?" he gestured.
Frowning, I trailed behind him. When we reached his office, he held open the door for me and I entered, taking a seat in front of the wide oak desk against the far wall. Dr. Galston closed the door b
ehind him quietly and my shoulders stiffened as unease began to infiltrate my nerves. I watched the doctor's face closely as he circled his desk and took a seat. His eyes moved to the papers on his desk and after sliding a few out of the way, he steepled his fingers and set them down, taking a deep breath.
My stomach dropped. "I'm glad to see you, Harlow," Dr. Galston began. "I've been looking after your mother for the last few months and I know you're her next of kin."
"Is there something wrong?" I asked. I knew there was. It was too obvious—from the way the doctor's shoulders drooped to the polite and gentle tone of voice—but some part of me still held out a shriveled slither of hope that he would just talk about expenses or maybe a new form of treatment that they wanted to try.
When Dr. Galston sighed and met my gaze, I knew that wasn't the case. "I’ve spoken with your mother’s oncologist,” he said. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but she’s no longer responding to the treatment," he said.
Even though I knew it was inevitable, my breath caught, and my chest squeezed tight. My hands contracted into fists. I wished one of the guys was there with me. Someone to come forward and comfort me. I had gotten used to the support they gave me, even from Grayson—though he was struggling right now, I knew he wouldn't have left me alone to deal with this as I felt right in that moment.
"I'm sorry, Miss Hampton," Dr. Galston said. Miss Hampton. He said my name so politely, so formally, as though he were already trying to distance himself from the situation. I didn't blame him. I wished I could do the same.
I nodded, but the movement was robotic. Jerky. "I understand," I said.
He took in a long breath. "The best we can offer her at this time is comfort. I would suggest that you and your mother discuss getting her things in order. If you don't have a family lawyer, our staff can recommend some local offices that deal with this kind of thing. They understand what you're going through and they will make the ordeal as painless as possible, I can assure you."
I nodded again and again, it was as though my head were propped up by a puppeteer's string, bobbing with the movement that I couldn't seem to control. The guys would know who to go to. I was sure Knix or Marv would have a lawyer that I could contact. I wondered how much lawyers cost. I wondered if Alex would let me work a few extra shifts until we got a job from Iris. Maybe I could talk to Alex about getting a more financially substantial position at Iris. Regular work. Work would take my mind off of things too.
"Thank you, Dr. Galston." I swallowed around a thick throat, questions rising. I knew they needed to be asked, but the little girl in me didn't want to know. She wanted to turn around, close her eyes and put her hands over her ears. She wanted to block out reality. I couldn't do that, I didn't have that luxury. "How long do you predict that she has?" I asked.
When would my world fall apart again? When would I have to pick up the pieces of my shattered self? When would my mom die? When would she leave me?
Dr. Galston sat up straighter, his lips pinched down as he considered. "I normally don't like giving a prediction of this kind," he said slowly. "Or if I do, then I like to be realistic. Harlow, I'm afraid your mother hasn't been responding to the treatment for some time. She hasn't been strong enough to leave her room. We switched up treatments—with her consent, of course—but..." He trailed off.
I knew it was bad. I held my breath. I waited.
"I'm afraid if your mom takes a turn for the worst, it won't be as long as I'm hoping. With the placement of the cancer and the lack of response, combined with the medications she needs for her disorder...you're looking at a few months at most."
The shock of his words hit me a moment after he spoke them. Months, he said. At most. Months were just weeks. My mom had mere weeks to live. My head turned, my eyes searching for the closed door. Beyond it, she and Michael were talking—they were, hopefully, reconciling all that had happened before. The last of my family was about to be cut in half.
“I’m very sorry, Harlow,” Dr. Galston said. “There’s nothing more we can do.”
“I understand.” But I didn’t. I didn’t understand. Why did it have to be her? Why did it have to be me? Our family? I couldn’t even cry, I was in such shock.
Dr. Galston said a few more things, discussing options—bringing her home, keeping her in the Care Center. When it became clear, though, that I had no clue what to do—and I likely wouldn’t until I talked to the others—he sighed. “I understand if you need more time to think it over,” he offered gently. “Talk with your mother and then stop by again. We can discuss more then.”
“Thank you,” I said. I felt like a broken record. All the nodding. All the ‘thank you's’.
He stood up and saw me out of the office, holding the door for me as I exited. “Truly, Harlow, I’m sorry for your loss,” he said as I left.
I’m sorry for your loss. As if she was already gone.
I drifted back down the hallway of the Care Center, feeling like a balloon that had been cut free. I made it back to the residential hallway without even knowing where I was going and as I approached the nurses' station, Michael stepped out of Mom’s hospital room. He looked bright, happier than he’d been before. Still subdued because that was who he was, but his eyes had a lighter sheen to them, the corners of his lips were turned up.
“Hey,” he said, “I, um, we talked.”
I stared at him. Wondering…should I tell him?
“I think it went well,” he said. “We, um, well, I’m staying in town for a bit longer—I’ve got a bit of vacation time saved up and I’m going to come back and visit.”
When I still didn’t respond, the riot in my head keeping me locked up tight, he frowned and stepped forward. “It’s not like it’ll erase the past,” he said, “but, I’m hoping…well, I see what you mean now. She’s different.”
“Yeah,” I finally managed to squeeze out.
He nodded. “So, um, I guess...I mean, we’re done. I’ve said goodbye. Do you want to…?” He trailed off.
I reached into my pocket, finding the keys I’d taken from him earlier. “Why don’t you go start the car, I’ll be right out,” I suggested.
He took the keys with a small amount of relief, as though he was glad to be away from me for the moment. I couldn’t blame him. Even as I spoke, I felt like someone else was doing it for me. When Michael had left, the keys dangling in his hand—echoing up the white floors and walls of the Care Center’s hallway—I turned towards the room’s doorway.
I stepped inside, meeting her eyes, and I knew that as soon as she saw my face, she knew that I knew. Her eyes—at first, bright with hope and relief—dropped. “You spoke with the doctor,” she surmised.
I nodded.
“He told you.”
My heart thudded against my ribcage. “Why didn’t you tell me they were trying more new treatments? Or that the others weren’t working?” I asked quietly.
Her fingers picked at the sheets covering her legs and finally, she sighed. “It’s not something we can stop,” she said.
“No, but I could’ve…” I trailed off. I could have what? Stopped the flow of time and space? I knew I was being irrational. She was right. There was nothing I could have done, then or now. But in that room, I was a little girl wanting to do something, find some way to keep my mom from slipping away from me. I took a step towards her bed and then another and another. Yet, each step felt like I was falling further and further away.
When I reached her bed, I felt my legs give way. I came crashing down on the small mattress. My knees hit the floor as my head hit the bed. I reached up, squeezing the sheets in my hands as the tears finally escaped. “I-I don’t want you to go,” I choked out.
My mom’s hand came down over my head and even as she spoke, I could tell she was barely keeping herself together. “I’m sorry, Baby.” She stroked my hair as I cried and though I felt like a selfish child—she was the one dying, and yet she was comforting me—I couldn’t stop the flow of tears and heartache.
“Your brother’s waiting,” she finally said, lifting my chin up and wiping away my tears.
“You didn’t tell him,” I said as I slowly came back to my feet.
She shook her head. “I’ve gotten my last moments with him,” she said. “If I tell him now, he’ll just feel guilty.”
“He’ll feel guilty no matter what,” I pointed out as I finished wiping away the tear tracks on my cheeks. I could taste salt on my lips and tongue.
Mom cupped my cheek and smiled. “Thank you for bringing him to see me, Baby.”
I closed my eyes and turned my head so that I had her hand captured between my cheek and my shoulder. “I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you too, Baby.” She tapped my cheek, letting me know she was ready for me to let go. I released her hand and sighed. “Go see him,” she said. “I’ll be here for a while yet.”
But for how much longer? I wondered as I left. Would it be months like the doctor had said? Or would it be less than that?
Chapter 21
Michael dropped me off at the front of the house. "I'm still not sure about this," he said quietly as I unbuckled my seatbelt.
I shrugged. "It's not really your choice," I replied.
He sighed, turning to me. "No, you're right. It's not. But promise me something, if anything happens or if you decide that you're not happy here, you'll call me."
"Do you promise that you'll pick up the phone?" I asked.
He nodded, his eyes serious. "I will."
"Okay, then. I’ll call if something happens." He let me get out then and waved as he reversed the car and headed back towards the road. I watched him go for a moment more before turning and heading inside. As soon as the front door closed behind me, a shout drew my attention.
"—fucking fault!"
I moved further into the house, turning towards the living room.
“—out of your head and fucking deal with it!”
I paused in the doorway, my eyes wide as I took in the scene before me. Marv was panting, blood smudged between his upper lip and his nose as he held Grayson by the front of his shirt. Grayson, too, looked worse for wear with a darkening bruise on one cheek and mussed hair. Texas and Bellamy stood off to the side, Bellamy frowning and Texas sighing while Knix stood between Marv and Grayson with hands held out placatingly.