by Syndi Powell
Page struggled to sit up. “So let me get this straight. You broke up with him for the same reason that you’re in love with him.”
“I never said it made sense.” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose, discarding the wadded tissue in the pile on the coffee table. “I’m done with putting my life on hold. I’m going for what I want. No more waiting, no more hesitating. I can’t, I won’t waste one more minute of this life. And if that means I have to let him go, then that’s what I have to do.”
Sherri ran her hand through April’s hair. “If you think it’s the right thing to do.”
“I refuse to let him treat me like I’m a second thought. That someone else will always come before me. If he loved me...” She wiped her eyes again at the fresh batch of tears. “If he loved me, then—”
“What makes you think he doesn’t love you?” Page asked, handing her a fresh box of tissues.
“Do you make plans with someone you love then forget because something more important came up?” April shook her head. “I would have turned my life upside down for him. But that’s because I love him. If I mattered to him, he would do the same.”
“Dez says that he loves me because it’s harder not to.” Sherri gave a lopsided smile. “And loving me isn’t easy, as he can tell you. I’m tough and independent and stubborn. But he wouldn’t forget if we had plans.”
April motioned toward Page. “See? Even Dez gets it.” She took a deep shuddering breath. “It’s fine. I’ll concentrate on finishing my list, and I’ll find my own happiness.” She brought out her journal. “The next thing that I want to do is throw a big party. I’ll be cancer-free for a year in two weeks, and I want to celebrate that in the biggest way possible.” She turned to her friends. “I was hoping you two could help me plan it?”
Sherri nodded. “Put my madre down for bringing some food. Do you like enchiladas or tamales? Hers are the best.”
April flipped to a clean page and wrote that down. “I thought I’d get some ideas from Mrs. Rossi. Maybe something I can make, like a pasta dish.”
“From Zach’s grandma?” Page raised an eyebrow at this. “Is that a good idea? She might not like the fact that you broke up with him.”
“Good point, but it won’t hurt to ask her. And I’m writing her and Mr. Rossi down on the guest list.” She made a note. “I got some tips at that wine tasting for what to look for and buy. I’ll be sure to have pop and water for the kids.” To Sherri, she said, “You’ll bring Dez and Marcus, right? And your cousin Mateo, too. Maybe we can have some salsa dancing. And I was going to invite your parents, of course. I appreciate how your mom tried to teach me how to knit. I only wish it had stuck.”
“I’m sure they’d be pleased.” Sherri smiled warmly.
April turned back to Page. “I’m inviting my whole department, all the doctors, nurses, everybody. Dr. Frazier and Dr. VanGilder. My family, obviously. Who am I forgetting?”
“Where do you plan on having this party? You’re talking about a hundred people if they all bring dates,” Page pointed out. “Maybe you should pare things down?”
“No way. This is about celebrating the fact that I stared death in the face, and made it blink. I dreamed of this party when I was too sick to get off the couch like you, Page. I thought about who I wanted to be there and what we would eat and music we’d dance to. I wanted to make sure this is a memorable night.” She thought again about the party she’d dreamed up a year ago. “And now I want to make it even bigger and louder and full of so much joy that people will never forget it.”
“You’re asking a lot from a party,” said Page.
“I know.” April handed the journal and pen over to her. “And I need you to be there. So write down ideas that you can be a part of. Because I can’t imagine a night like this without you.”
“What if I’m sick?”
“Then I’ll decorate a bucket with streamers and balloons that you can keep next to you.” She squeezed Page’s shoulder. “I’m not just throwing this party for me. I beat cancer, and I know you can, too.”
“You’re going to keep bugging me until I agree to go, aren’t you?”
April nodded. “And when this is all over, we’ll plan your party, Page. And yours, too, Sherri. Because we deserve to celebrate after everything that we went through. We came out the other side alive.” She put a hand to her chest. “I may have to live every day with my scars, but they’re proof that I’m one strong woman.”
Sherri was teary and put her hand over her heart. “Cancer couldn’t keep us down.” She looked over at Page. “What do you say?”
“Right now, cancer is kicking my behind.” Page held her hand out between Sherri and April. “But I’m all in.”
April and Sherri put their hands over Page’s, and they grinned at each other. This was going to be the most fabulous party ever.
* * *
HIS CELL PHONE BUZZED, and Zach reached over the stack of papers on his desk to check it. Not April. Not wanting to talk to anyone else, he put the phone down and returned to marking up the contract for a new client he hoped to sign later that week. The phone chimed, letting him know that he had a voice mail waiting.
Dalvin knocked on his office door and stepped inside. “It’s after seven, so I’m going to head out for the night. Do you need anything before I go?”
Seven already? Seems like now that his mom didn’t need him at home, he stayed later and arrived earlier. He’d even spent the night on the sofa in his office, once or twice, when he realized that the sun would rise in a few hours. “I’m fine. I was just getting ready to leave myself.”
His assistant gave him a look that made him think he didn’t believe him. Not that Zach believed it himself. He probably wouldn’t have realized the office was empty until the cleaning crew arrived. He rubbed his eyes. “Dalvin, what day is it?”
“Thursday.”
Zach swore and looked at his watch. “I was supposed to meet my mom ten minutes ago for a family counseling session. I should have had you put it in my schedule.” He grabbed his phone and checked the voice mail. The nursing home reminding him of the appointment.
He swept the stack of papers into a desk drawer, locked it and ran past his assistant to the elevators. Dalvin joined him before the elevator arrived. “Zach, don’t take this the wrong way, but what are you doing?”
He pressed the down button on the elevator a dozen times, knowing it wouldn’t make it come up any faster but he did it anyway. “Trying to make it to this appointment. Should I take the stairs?”
Dalvin grabbed the cuff of his sleeve. “You’re still spreading yourself too thin between your mom’s care and your clients. You’re not eating or sleeping. I thought that putting your mom in the nursing home was supposed to make your life easier by dealing with some of the stress. What happened?”
The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. Zach pressed the button to take them to the underground garage. He tapped his foot and watched the floor numbers descending on the display. When Dalvin cleared his throat, Zach gave him a shrug. “I don’t know. It was supposed to be easier.”
“When do you take the time to do something for yourself?”
That was funny, and Zach chuckled at it. Time for himself? When was that supposed to happen? He kept moving, never resting, because slowing down meant that he wasn’t doing what he was supposed to do. He needed to hustle for his clients, for his mother. If he was going to take over the agency from Mike in six months, he needed to push himself, not slow down. He had to make all their lives easier.
He paused. But who was making his life easy? He glanced at Dalvin, who at least made sure that he ate at mealtimes and kept him on track, most of the time. But having his assistant didn’t make his life mean something more. Make him happy. He’d been using all his energy on everyone else. And now found himself feeling empty.
“I’ll p
lan something this weekend.”
Dalvin clucked and shook his head. “Sad day when you have to plan to take care of yourself.”
The elevator doors opened on the garage level, and Zach strode off. He’d think about it later. After the counselor. And after signing that client.
Then maybe he could think about what had gone so wrong with April.
He reached the nursing home and ran up the ramp to the front door. On his drive there, he’d called to say he’d been tied up and was running late. The counselor had been terse, but had accepted his excuse. Seemed like that’s all he’d had lately: excuses.
He picked up his visitor’s pass from the front desk and sped toward his mother’s room. But it stood empty when he arrived. He checked the tiny attached lavatory, but she wasn’t there either. He sprinted to the nurses’ station farther down the hall. “My mother, Mrs. Harrison, isn’t in her room. Has she been taken to the counselor’s office?”
The nurse replied, “Dr. Danz is meeting you both in your mother’s room.”
“Well, she’s not there. I just checked.” He tried to tamp down his anxiety, but the thought of his mother wandering somewhere made his stomach churn. She was probably searching for him, and he’d put her in this place. It was all his fault. All of it. He’d lost his mother, and he had no one else to blame. “She knew I was coming tonight, right? We’ve been talking about it all week. Is there a code you can call to lock down the ward until we find her?”
“I’m sure she’s fine. Probably visiting with one of her friends.” The nurse glanced up at him. “We’ll do a room check.”
“She gets confused easily.”
“Mr. Harrison, most of my patients are in the same boat, which is why we have the electronic doors to protect them from leaving unattended. We haven’t lost her, I promise.”
Zach nodded, but he didn’t feel confident in the nurse’s assessment of the situation. He started walking to each room, calling his mother’s name. In the fifth room, he found her sitting in a rocking chair while another patient showed her how to string beads onto a chain. “Mom.”
She smiled up at him. “Zach, you’re here. Come look and see what I’m making.”
“Where were you?”
She glanced around the room. “Right here with my friend.” She pointed at the woman and frowned at her after a moment. “What is your name again?”
He rushed forward and leaned down to hug her. “I thought you were lost. I thought something bad had happened to you.”
She chuckled and reached up to pat his cheeks. “You worry too much.”
Because he’d had to. He’d worried and stressed and done his best to take care of her. “We should go. We have an appointment with the counselor.”
“But I want to stay here and spend time with my friend.”
“You can do that after we’re finished.”
Reluctantly, she handed the half finished necklace to the other woman. “We’ll have to do this later. If I can remember where we left off.” She gave a wink and laughed at her own joke.
But Zach didn’t find it very funny. They checked in at the nurses’ station, and one paged the counselor. A young woman with blond curls who reminded him of April approached them with a clipboard. She held her hand out to his mother and then to him. “I’m Dr. Danz, and I thought we’d take tonight’s session in your room, Mrs. Harrison. Maybe you can show me how you’ve settled in.”
They proceeded to his mother’s room, and he paused to have the women enter first before following them inside. His mother sat on the bed as Dr. Danz commented on the personal touches before settling in the recliner by the window. “You’ve really made it homey, Mrs. Harrison. I love the plants.”
“Call me Kate.”
“How do you like it here so far, Kate?”
His mother scrunched up her face as she considered the question. “I don’t know. It’s nice sometimes, and I have friends. I like the nurses, they let me watch whatever I want on my TV.”
“What don’t you like about it?”
“The lime gelatin with pineapple.”
She made a face, to which Dr. Danz laughed. “Anything else?”
His mother hesitated. “I haven’t seen Robert since I’ve been here. I miss him.”
Dr. Danz nodded and made a notation on her clipboard. “And you, Mr. Harrison? What do you like about your mom staying here?”
He stared at the woman, wondering if she was serious. He didn’t like it. He didn’t appreciate the fact that his mother had to be confined here. That his thoughts were consumed with whether she was okay, or if he’d get a call asking him to help the staff to calm her. He hated that the house was too quiet when he returned at night, if he did at all. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Please share with us what you like about this change.”
He let out a breath. “I can’t because I don’t like it.”
Dr. Danz made another note. “Did you hear what your mother said? She’s made friends, and besides the lime gelatin, she doesn’t mind the food.”
“And that’s supposed to make it all better? To make her better?” He ran a hand through his hair. “She’s still confused. She seems quiet right now, but give her time and she’ll lash out at you about more than just a desert. And she’s still searching for my dad, who’s been dead over twenty years. Is that progress?”
“Zach, why are you so angry?” his mother asked.
He turned to look at her. “I’m not.”
She gave him the face he remembered from his childhood when he’d been caught in a fib. “I like it here. I wish you did, too.”
Dr. Danz asked his mother more questions about the facility and the staff, writing down her responses. She also asked what year it was and who was currently president. She recited a list of words and asked his mother to repeat them. After ten minutes, she stood and put a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “I’ll see you next week, Kate. Thank you for showing me your lovely room.” To Zach, she said, “Can we talk outside for a moment?”
He followed after the counselor as if he was a schoolboy in need of a scolding for bad behavior. He probably should have kept his doubts to himself. When the door closed behind them, Dr. Danz peered at him. “Do you know why I have these counseling sessions with the family?”
“To show us the progress my mother has made. Or lack thereof.”
“Your mother has other doctors responsible for that. I’m here to show the family that their loved one is in good hands and to address any concerns they may have.” She paused and looked at him directly. “The counseling sessions with me are for the sake of the family, not the patient. So tell me. How have you been sleeping?”
What? “Who cares? I’m fine. It’s my mother you should be concerned with.”
“I’ll take that to mean that you’re not sleeping. How about eating?”
“I do fine.”
She wrote a few lines on her clipboard. “Mr. Harrison, I understand that you want your mother to improve. That you want her memory to return and for everything to be like it was before. And I’m sure that I’m not the first doctor to tell you that the reality is she’s probably the best she’s going to be. The doctors have her on meds to stabilize her moods, but she’s not going to get better.”
He bit his lip and took a deep breath. “I know.”
“Do you really? Or do you tell yourself that because it’s easier than really accepting the awful truth that the mother you knew is never returning?”
“I don’t need a psychologist.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But until you deal with your guilt, it’s going to eat away at you and cause more sleepless nights.” She wrote something on a sheet of paper, then tore it off her clipboard. “Here’s the name and number of a colleague who specializes in working with caretakers. He was once like you, caring for his aging mother and trying t
o hold on to her so tightly that he lost everything else.”
“I haven’t lost anything.” But he took the slip of paper and folded it before putting it in his pants pocket.
“We can talk about that next week.” She patted his shoulder, turned and disappeared around the corner.
Zach stared at the floor between his feet, contemplating the counselor’s words. In truth, because of his mother he’d almost lost his job. He’d lost his mother long ago when the disease had started stealing parts of her away. And now he’d lost April.
He fingered the paper in his pocket. He’d never been one for seeking out therapy, but he could almost hear April’s voice in his head. If things weren’t working now, what could it hurt to try something new?
* * *
APRIL PULLED INTO the parking lot of the strip mall that held the offices for Hope Center and glanced at her passenger. “Are you sure you’re up for a meeting tonight?”
With a wan smile, Page gave her a nod. “I need one. It will be good to see some friendly faces. And to get out of the house, if nothing else.”
Unsure if this was the best idea for her friend, April nodded and parked the car near the door. “All right. But if you need to leave early, just give me a signal.”
“How about I say something like, ‘I think we should go now.’”
At least the chemo treatment hadn’t robbed Page of her dry sense of humor. “That will work, I guess. But I was hoping for something more like tugging on your ear, or tapping the end of your nose.”
“If that will make you happy.” She took a deep breath before turning and opening the passenger door.
Page looked pale, ashen. What little hair she had once had was already gone. The hollows in her cheeks had started to show. April had once hoped to never see her friend like this again, but here they were. Facing another cancer diagnosis. She hurried around the car to get to Page’s side in case she needed assistance. But if nothing else, her friend’s stubborn side won out, and she walked toward the Center without help.