They opened the door to his room. Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw. Her brother, already small for his age, was a doll, hidden in a cluster of blankets. The bed looked oversized around his tiny body, so thin and frail-looking. Tubes tied him down, held him there, against the beep-beep-beep of the monitors.
Dad turned to look at them. “Jai,” he whispered. He wrapped her in his arms, hugging and holding her close against his chest. He smiled down at her. “Come, be with your brother.” She could see the pain in her father’s eyes, feel the hurt he felt at not having been there, when Mom had given Jai the news. But, now was not the time for airing apologies or I-wishes. He leaned down, taking Jai’s hand, guiding it to Darin’s.
Darin’s round eyes slowly blinked open. “Jai?” His face, normally full with a fat chubby smile, was sunken, but no less beautiful. A few thin strands and a downy tuft of golden brown hair rested in bits and pieces on his predominantly bald head.
“Yes, it’s me, Darin. It's Jai. I’m home, here with you.” She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, and forced a smile.
“Jai.” Darin’s voice strained to whisper. “Where’s my sweet?” he asked immediately, the same as always. His little hand fell open.
“Ta-da!” she said softly, and handed him a bracelet with a tiny bell attached to it. “No way you can hide from me now.” He laughed as she placed it in his hand, closing his fingers around it. The bell rang a soft, delicate chime.
“I love it. Thank you,” he beamed at her, a cough escaping from his lips.
“Are you chilly, love?” Mom swooped in with another blanket.
He smiled and laughed at her. “Mom, I’ll need a sign pretty soon. You can barely find me, hidden under all these blankets.”
From then on, they passed the days in chapters. Normally, a rambunctious child, Darin was far from home, forced to lay in a stark room, with only one window to let in the light. It was not like him, to be trapped in bed most of the time. Even when he was sick in the past, he’d whine his way out. Bed was only for sleep, or to curl up and read with Jai. In the hospital, books were his only escape. Jai read him three chapters a day. Then two, then one, until only a few pages in and he’d fall asleep. The time between bouts of nausea and vomiting were fewer and farther between. Soon, the book became an hourglass; the fewer pages turned, the less time they had to spend with each other, the less time Darin had left.
Closing the door behind her, Jai followed her parents out of the room. Anxiously, she whispered, “What do the doctors say? It’s been months since his admission. He’s no better. Aren’t the treatments working?”
Mom walked her down the hall before answering. “They are, Jai. Problem is, when chemo kills cancer cells, it can affect normal cells, too. They’re trying to keep it in check, to keep the cancer from spreading and slow its growth, but your brother’s body is weaker now.”
Months later, Jai had to force herself to take a deep breath before walking into his room. It was hard to suppress the anger and frustration she felt, especially when his condition was compounded by an additional diagnosis: acute myelogenous leukemia. It was affecting his bone marrow now. Vast numbers of abnormal white blood cells, myeloid blasts, were developing into leukemia, rather than normal white blood cells. The doctors moved him to a specialized pediatric cancer center, but they were wary of overstating what they could do.
Back at home, Dad talked to her over breakfast. “Jai, I know it’s hard," he said, "and I appreciate your strength.” He smiled at her, his blonde hair unkept, his once sparkling eyes a pale blue. “Your mom's having a hard time.” He motioned his head upward, toward Mom, who was asleep upstairs. “She didn’t go to sleep until 3 a.m. She’s up all the time now, trying to find a research article, something, anything to save him.”
Jai wasn’t surprised, and she didn’t let Dad off the hook. “You are too, Dad. What’s it been now, the third night in a row that you’ve come back past midnight? Only reason why I’m not doing the same is your 11 p.m. blackout period.” She’d rolled her eyes at the new curfew they’d instituted. “Others in this house could benefit from it.”
He smirked. “I know, I know. It’s a bit silly to ask you to honor a curfew at your age. We’re just trying our best, to look after both our kids.” He hugged Jai close, and let loose what he’d found. “There are some interesting studies, new combination therapies some colleagues have sent to me. I’m reading them this afternoon, before I meet you guys at the hospital.” His cell rang. “Hello? What?” He walked out of the room, and came back shortly. “Quickly, Jai. Wake your mother. Your brother has an infection.”
❖
They rushed to the hospital. A multidisciplinary team entered the room twenty minutes later. Jai couldn’t help but see the doctors catch her parents’ eyes, a warning that the news may be better discussed in private. But, Mom guided Jai closer. Dad placed his hands on Jai’s shoulders.
Dr. Mitchell looked briefly at his colleagues and took a deep breath before beginning. “Darin’s white blood cells have dropped in number, making him far more susceptible to infection. It's bacterial.”
“Antibiotics?” Mom asked urgently.
“Yes,” Dr. Mitchell assured her. “We’ve given him antibiotics, but, with a shortage of red blood cells, anemia’s weakened him significantly.” His speech was slow and steady, as if to brace them. “His underlying leukemia has remained somewhat steady. But, it’s not where we had hoped it to be. It hasn’t progressed any further. But, an infection is a serious treatment complication, especially with the rise of extensively drug resistant strains.” Dr. Mitchell didn’t say anymore, likely because Jai was there. Still, the message was clear: stay close because Darin might not make it.
The next week was a blur. Jai was beside herself, sitting beside Darin as he lay motionless, rarely opening his eyes. She read to him anyway, hoping, willing her voice to reach him, to beckon him home. Mom encouraged it. It seemed to help her drown out the worry. There was so little to do but worry in that room. The doctors offered little to no reassurance. In fact, they had the unenviable task of delivering bad news after more bad news. First, the infection was not responding well to the cocktail of antibiotics they were giving him; then, tests showed the infection had spread to his lungs. Dad, who was normally so outgoing and cheerful, seemed to retreat into himself. Mom was abnormally quiet. The worry had drained them both. They huddled, disappearing into the corner, while Jai sat beside the bed. She didn't know what else to do, other than read to Darin. It was the one thing she was capable of doing: filling the room with some sound to drown out the blaring silence.
Eventually, Mom and Dad forced Jai to go home, to eat a proper meal and rest in her own bed. She pleaded to stay, but she knew better than to burden them with protests. Like wet tissue, her parents were fading, barely themselves. She couldn’t bear to see them like that. She’d never seen anything deter or sway them. They were her support, her pillars. Now, they were shrinking before her eyes.
After a few hours of fretful sleep, she walked down the stairs, surprised to find them sitting at the kitchen table. Immediately, she knew. One of them always stayed with Darin. Now, they were both at home with her. Darin had had a sudden and severe cardiac arrhythmia. They’d been rushed out of the room before they could even kiss him goodbye.
❖
The funeral was a foreign affair, not because they’d decided to hold the ceremony in Chiang Mai, but because of the strange stoic expressions Jai and her parents wore. Weeping, exasperated cries and buckled knees were kept private for the three of them, and every attempt was made to remain calm for the friends and family who’d flown in for the ceremony.
It was a beautiful wake, with abundant flowers and all of Darin’s favorite dishes and desserts. They’d even taken turns, reading a line from his favorite poem, before they closed the public ceremony and walked into a private space.
Jai walked to the casket and saw his angelic face peering back at her. The mortuary ha
d done a good job with the makeup. He looked serene, nestled against a satin pillow. Still, it was so unlike him to be so still. Stillness was for hospitals, not the Darin that Jai remembered…not the Darin she wanted to remember. Tears welled up in her eyes. Her nose prickled. No, not now, she thought. She knew, if I start now, I’ll never stop crying. She admired the last sweet she’d given him, still on his wrist: the bracelet. The bell chimed as she caressed his small, delicate hand.
Chapter 5
2075
Mom called. “Jai, let’s move to Chiang Mai.” Her voice seemed bright, but Jai could hear the sadness underneath it. “I know you’re busy wrapping up your Ph.D. at Stanford, but I’d love for you to join me, when you can. I’ve decided to continue my work with the Universities there. It would mean so much to have you with me.”
Six years had passed since they’d lost Darin, but adjusting remained Mom's work-in-progress. Having a second child so late in life was a wondrous gift to her. But, it wasn’t rare. With all the advancements in reproductive science, women often waited to have children in their 50’s, some even as late as 60 years old. Still, when Mom considered becoming pregnant at 43, her friends questioned it, asking only half-jokingly: “Are you sure you don’t have amnesia? You really want another baby? You do remember the late night crying and diapers galore, right?” They’d reminded her, “Jai’s nearly in college.” Her favorite was “One word: poop-pocalypse.” Mom understood where her friends were coming from. Mom and Dad loved to travel. Naturally, their friends questioned how a newborn would fit into their adventures. But, that hardly deterred them. They knew what they wanted. Later, Jai learned they'd planned for over a year before Darin was conceived.
Losing him was especially hard. Cancer had weakened him slowly, but the infection and deadly consequences were abrupt. Jai could sense how difficult it was for her mother to process his death, even years later. Increasingly, Mom had found herself drawn to Chiang Mai. It was the last place they’d spent time with him before he was admitted to the hospital. Jai pictured the villa, sitting out on the sala, and remembered the good times: chasing Darin down the beach; watching the sunsets; strolling along the fields.
“Jai?” Mom beckoned her back to reality. “Please, join me.”
“I’d love to, Mom. I’m nearly finished preparing my defense, so I won’t have to spend as much time at the U. The timing’s good.” But, more than that, Jai knew Mom needed her. It was also the three-year anniversary of her father’s passing. A blood clot. It had traveled up to his heart, hit his lungs, and that was it. It surprised everyone who knew him. By all appearances, Dad was not only thin, but muscular. He was an avid biker, hiker, and loved kayaking. He was as fit as could be. But, his cholesterol was always something to contend with and, when he went kayaking with his friends (down the Nile of all places) he went down for a roll and didn’t come up. Not the elegant way he usually did, anyway. The doctors said, even if a medevac were nearby, the pulmonary embolism would have been fatal.
“I'm so glad you'll come," Mom said. "Nothing would please me more." She paused. "And, Jai, this time, I hope you’ll meditate with me.” Jai promised to consider it, the meditation training Mom had begun under the tutelage of the local monks. Jai had had a hard time warming up to it. The chanting and blessings, though beautiful, stood far from the world she knew. She'd finished her Masters; spent most of her time and attention working on her Ph.D. at Stanford; and, in parallel to her studies, she’d launched a manufacturing business. Engineering and math had kept her grounded and sane, in a way feelings and reflection did not. In fact, the more Jai opened up to her emotional side, the more she felt her heart palpitate.
Mom sensed her reluctance. “I know you don’t like to talk about yourself, but, speaking from my own experience, losing your brother and father these last few years has been too much, too soon.”
Jai knew her mother wasn’t speaking of only herself. “Yes, it is hard to cope.” Jai admitted that much. Mom was coping far better than she was. “I’ll try to join you this time,” Jai promised. That afternoon, she made arrangements to run her business remotely. It was two years old then, a fledgling, but largely self-sufficient with the team she’d assembled. She trusted them to follow her directions from afar. More importantly, she realized that she and her mother needed time, time away from the structured life they had, to regroup and reconnect with themselves and what little family they had left.
When she arrived in Chiang Mai, it was early morning. She could smell the earth, feel its immediate, raw beauty. Months had passed since she’d agreed to make the move. She’d just passed her defense and traveled unannounced. She was excited to surprise her mom. She walked to the nearby school and asked a student where her mother was. “I was just speaking with her,” he said. “She’s in the temple.”
Before Jai had even taken off her shoes to cross the threshold, the strong, spicy aroma of incense enveloped her. The room was clear, except for some pillows splayed out along the floor. The morning sun was streaking in, through the windows along each side. The middle of the room was dark, but far in the distance, she could see the outline of her mother’s body. Mom sat relaxed in a lotus pose. Her eyes were closed. Her hands rested, one atop another, in her lap. Jai raised a foot, just about to tip-toe inside, when Mom surprised her. “Jai,” she whispered. She hadn’t even opened her eyes.
Chapter 6
2080
“A toast, to Ascendant Technologies.” Mom held up her glass of champagne. “Who would’ve thought I’d be so blessed with such a talented daughter?” She winked.
Jai laughed. “Cut it out, Mom.”
“I know, I know, you don’t like it when I dote on you, but going public just a few years after you’ve launched your own business is no small feat. Such amazing performance on the S&P, too. What mother wouldn’t be proud?” Jai could feel her cheeks flush. “Quick, to the pool!” Mom ordered. "We’ve got two hours before everyone arrives.”
Jai tailed her mother to the deck and slipped waist-deep into the water. The glass-tiled pool sparkled in the sun, with an iridescent design of blues and greens. Mom dangled her legs along the edge, and swished her feet back and forth. Jai squinted as the sun beamed down overhead. “Seriously?” Mom asked, pulling her shades on. “You’re so lucky. Those eyes! You owe your father and I a debt of gratitude for those genes.” At 60 years old, her generally low-maintenance Mom was on a La Prairie kick. The more anti-aging the better. “I see not one wrinkle. Look!” she said, pointing at Jai's eyes. “Even squinting, there’s no crow’s feet.” She sighed. “It’s really not fair.”
Jai shook her head, and treaded water. “Mom, I just turned 30.”
“Yes, 30! Shows what you know. I remember 30 like it was yesterday and, believe me, plenty of wrinkles had surfaced by then. You don’t even do anything but throw on some sunblock. I swear, beauty is wasted on the young. Love it while it lasts.”
They lazied around the pool, Mom swimming a few laps as Jai tried to finish a new book. But, Jai couldn’t help but find herself distracted. Mom was right. Jai was not aging like she should’ve been. Jai had noticed it herself, but hadn’t thought to mention it. In the five years she’d spent reconnecting with her Mom in Chiang Mai, Jai had dabbled in karate and joined Mom in meditation. But, with the business thriving, Jai didn’t have the time to devote to herself to physical maintenance. Yet, her body appeared to be significantly stronger and, as Mom had pointed out, Jai really didn’t see the first wrinkles most started to see at her age.
“That’s not all,” Mom pointed out later. “Look at this hair!” she said, holding Jai’s hair up. She watched it fall loose. Soft curls landed on Jai’s shoulders. “A lot of women’s hair thins out over time. I'm not imagining it: yours is growing thicker.” Jai tried to count her blessings and didn’t question it. She was enjoying their time together and, when she wasn’t working, they were nearly inseparable. They’d even started reading together again. That week, something else had changed though. Jai
couldn’t help but notice a shift in her. Her energy was up, more so than in the past.
“Ding dong!” Clive yelled, throwing his voice into the villa. Jai rushed out of the shower and ran down the steps, her hair soaking wet. It dripped all over the floor.
“Stop that, Clive. Have some manners!” Aida chastised him, knowing full well nothing could stop her husband from containing his enthusiasm.
“Coming…just a sec!” Jai yelled. She straightened her shirt and barreled down the walkway to the entrance. Spinning around the corner, she jumped the neighborhood cat, who’d taken to sun-bathing on the deck. Aida heard it first. “Shit!” Jai screamed. The cat scurried out, as Clive and Aida came running. They found Jai piled on the floor. Jai looked up at them, apologetically. “Sorry,” Jai said. “We’re running late. We took a dip in the pool and should’ve gotten out earlier.”
Aida grabbed hold of Jai’s foot and said, “The apology’s ours. Just look at your foot!”
“Ew.” Clive held Jai’s foot up, then wiggled the pinky finger on his right hand, miming how Jai’s pinky toe had broken outward, far from where it should’ve been.
Aida elbowed Clive. “See! I’ve told you time and again, don’t rush people! Apologize!”
Clive nodded. “Yes, yes dear!” Clive’s face darkened as he returned his gaze to Jai. “Seriously. I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”
“Not at all. Don't be sorry, guys.” Jai waved her hand at them. “It’s not Clive’s fault. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been running. I forgot the cat loves this spot and found myself barreling down on the poor thing. I jumped over him. Graceful as I am, I slammed my toe into the corner of the wall. I swear I heard it crack.”
Aida grimaced. “Well, there’s nothing like a good bone-breaking to get the evening started. Let’s splint that up.”
Obsidian: Birth to Venus (The Obsidian Chronicles Book 1) Page 3