by Sara Cate
He looks up at me, his eyes wide and seemingly trying to figure out how to react.
“Murph,” he says as a greeting.
“Ryder,” I answer. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“You’re really going to be like this? Now?” He steps closer to me, and I clench my fists. He’s changed. I haven’t seen my almost-foster brother in almost seven years. Once he turned eighteen, he took off for Las Vegas with some of Hazel’s money, and we haven’t heard from him since.
“You’re early,” I growl as I make my way to the liquor cabinet to pour another drink. He looks at me with a puzzled expression. “We’re not reading the will yet.”
“Murph!” Ruby barks.
My eyes glaze over to see Savannah standing near the entrance still, watching us cautiously. I want to pull her to me. Ryder should see that she’s mine. She belongs to me.
“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?” Ryder snaps.
“I’m an asshole? You take off without a word, and now you want what? To say goodbye? To suck up in attempts for one more grab at some of Hazel’s cash?”
“Shut the fuck up!” Ryder barks back at me. He steps up and I notice the puff to his chest. He’s gotten bigger since the last time I saw him. He was so young back then, Mr. Big Shot thinking he was going to make it big as some goddamn rock star in Vegas. I hate him for that.
“Why don’t you just leave?”
“Boys!” Ruby shouts, standing between us.
Savannah’s hand is on my arm, and it gives me more fuel. “Don’t do this,” she whispers.
“Who is this?” he asks, looking at her.
“None of your fucking business, so you can just stay the fuck away,” I answer. The terror in Savanna’s eyes glistens in the perimeter of my vision.
“What is your deal?” Ryder steps up, and I want to punch him so bad it hurts. I set the drink down on the bar and turn toward him.
“Let’s go, you little piece of shit.”
Ryder is launching himself at me, but not before taking one last quick glance behind to the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. His hands land on my collar as he grabs it aggressively. I expect him to punch me, but instead he yanks me toward the patio doors. When I aim a fist toward his chin, he dodges my punch.
“Enough!” Savannah screams. One glance in her direction, I notice her covering her ears with her hands and squeezing her eyes closed in anguish.
I grab the door to the patio and pull Ryder outside with me. Once we get there, his hands are back on my collar. We struggle with each other as I finally overpower and his back is against the wall.
“We can do this, but not here with the ladies,” I say finally.
“I agree!” he says with a struggle, trying to peel my hands off his shirt. “I’m not trying to fight with you! I just came back to see Hazel. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Why didn’t you come back sooner?” I ask.
“I had something come up. I couldn’t leave.”
“Bullshit,” I spit back.
“I’m being fucking serious, Murph. What do you think? I was blowing the cash? Hazel knows everything!”
“Knows what?”
“You think I’m going to tell you? Fuck you! All that matters is that Hazel was in the know the whole time. I don’t owe you shit.”
Finally, after sensing some sincerity, I let him go. He shoves away quickly and walks into the house without another word. I follow him inside, looking for Savannah by the liquor cabinet, but she’s gone. I don’t bother saying a word to Ryder as I stomp up the stairs toward the bedrooms. Her door is already closed when I reach the hallway.
Irritation turns my blood as I go to my room, pulling off my stupid jacket and slacks like they did something wrong. When I crawl into bed, I know it’s no use. I won’t be falling asleep anytime soon with this rage flooding my system.
It’s about an hour later when I hear my door open and her feet pad quietly across the floor. She crawls into my bed without question, laying her body straight as a board next to mine. She doesn’t reach for me or flex her limbs around mine.
“Hey,” I whisper, turning my head to face her. She doesn’t rest her head on my arm, even though I’m holding it out for her.
She stares at me, her eyes brimming with moisture. “I didn’t like that,” she mumbles, her voice shaking. “I didn’t like...seeing you like that.”
“Ryder just…”
“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter what makes you act like that, just that you did…”
“I’m sorr—”
She cuts me off. “Don’t say you’re sorry. I hate that phrase.”
The silence feels heavy, the only sound coming from the fan that spins overhead.
“Jesus, I fucked up. You don’t understand. He’s…”
Her hand touches my chest, but instead of her gentle or hungry touch, she holds her hand there, right where she can feel my heartbeat. There’s a tremor in her fingers, and my blood goes cold when I realize that Savannah was scared, maybe still is.
What the fuck has she been through?
I wish I knew what to say to her now. ‘I’m sorry’ doesn't’ work, and I understand why now. I’m sorry isn’t some get out of jail free card. It doesn't erase anything.
My stomach is sick as I think about how I just acted, screaming like an animal.
“I want to hold you right now,” I whisper across the dark, silent space.
“I can’t sleep,” she breathes. “I just want to sleep.”
“Just sleep,” I echo. Then she crawls forward, resting her head on my arm and holding her clasped hands between our bodies. My arm reaches toward her to hold her closer. Before too long, I hear her steady breathing in the dark.
I don’t sleep for shit. All I can think about is Murph’s shouting voice, hitting a nerve in my mind, erasing every wonderful thing we did in that hallway.
Murph is unpredictable. At times he’s a welcoming set of arms that gives me comfort, but then other times he’s a cold brick wall. I want to break it down, peel it away until I can get the beauty to that is beneath. The soft center that Hazel mentioned in the letter. But at what cost?
Hearing him fight with the other man had memories flashing back that terrified me. Suddenly he was Hugo screaming at me for something. Or the brawls behind his club, where sometimes the loser was hauled away in the back of someone’s car and probably not to the hospital.
When I wake up, he’s gone. I get out of his bed and quietly tip-toe into the bathroom where I can shower and dress quickly, hoping to avoid any encounter with him. After our late night rendezvous, I’m not ready to face him again.
Immediately, I notice the energy in the house is different. I can’t quite explain how I know, but when I walk into the living room, I realize the light is on in the hallway, and I follow it to the end where Hazel’s room is. It’s dim, but I spot a pair of boots on the floor near the bed.
Peeking inside, I lose my breath when my eyes catch Murph’s. They are bloodshot, sleepless, and the saddest I have ever seen them. He’s on a chair next to the bed, his elbows perched on his knees. On the other side of the bed, Ryder is sitting in a similar position. Ruby is on the bed, facing away from me, her head hanging, still and silent.
On the bed, Hazel is still breathing, loudly. Her eyes are closed, and every breath sounds like her last.
I inch my way into the room, but I can’t look away from his sad eyes. Something in his grief is inviting me in, welcoming me into this quiet moment as we wait with someone we love, collectively ensuring she does not take her last breath alone.
The morning stretches on endlessly. No one eats, leaves, or speaks for hours.
Finally, somewhere around eight, Ryder gets up and leaves the room unannounced. Ruby encourages the rest of us to eat something. She leaves after giving Hazel another dose of morphine. Murph doesn’t move. I’m on the window seat next to him, curled up and dozing in and out of sleep when I hear him let out a tir
ed, desperate sigh.
When I look at him, I see a different man than I saw standing against the low wall of the gala, undressing me with his eyes. This man is tortured and afraid, clearly at a loss within a world he can no longer control. The man last night took what he wanted, afraid of nothing.
Moving without hesitance, I reach for him. My hand laces through his fingers, and he squeezes them almost too tightly.
When he speaks, so quiet I barely hear him, I get lost in the croak of his voice.
“I lost my best friend without warning. Overdose, and I didn’t even know he was using. One day, he was just dead. This isn’t any easier.”
“My mother died very slowly,” I whisper, and his head snaps up to stare at me. “Toward the end, I just wanted her pain to be over.”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.
His cool, green eyes suck me in, holding me close, promising me something. He makes me feel like I matter, that I mean something to him. It feels like a trick, so I look away before I can fall much further.
Ryder is standing in the doorway, watching us silently. When I look up at him, he says, “Ruby made lunch. We should eat.”
“I’m not leaving her,” Murph growls.
The man in the doorway looks at me again, offering me a slight smile and motioning toward the kitchen. It takes a few moments before I finally stand, pulling my hand away from Murph’s. A part of me is still angry at him after his little explosion last night. Part of my problem with Hugo was that I was always so easily swayed after he made me angry. Most of that was thanks to his classic manipulation techniques, but I still blame myself for how quickly I forgave him, buying into all of his fake apologies.
The kitchen is quiet too, and I thank Ruby as I take a sandwich from the counter and walk toward the patio to eat it.
I stop in my tracks when I notice a newcomer at the table outside. Long blonde hair blowing in the wind, covering her petite face as she tries to take a bite of her sandwich. Her short legs sway under the table, and I'm standing there struck by how out of place she is.
She couldn’t be more than five or six years old. There aren’t any other people here from what I can tell, but somehow this child is suddenly at the house, eating on the patio.
“She’s mine,” a low voice murmurs behind me.
I turn to find Ryder staring at her with a hint of joy in his previously lifeless expression.
“She’s beautiful. But why…”
“Why didn’t I tell Murph?” He moves toward the patio door, watching her as she eats. “I didn’t tell him because he doesn’t give a shit about me. Why would he give a shit about her?”
“You don’t know that,” I answer, finding myself defending a man I still know so little about. He could be right for all I know.
From what I know about Murph so far is that he cares deeply and expresses it poorly.
“She’s five,” Ryder says, just before opening the door for me to step outside with my own lunch.
“Which is why you never came back,” I answer for him, remembering Murph’s rage over Ryder’s disappearance.
“Pretty much.” He sets down his plate and tousles the young girl’s hair. “Is your sandwich good, Lucy?”
She nods and picks up a paper she’s scrawled all over. Her father examines it affectionately, and I watch as she waits for his response. “It’s beautiful,” he says finally.
Then, the girl looks at me. I smile at her, but I have no idea what to say. Does this little thing even understand the misery in the household? What do you say to a child when someone is dying?
“You have beautiful hair.” It’s all I can think to say, and it’s true. It’s blonder than Ryder’s, and it looks so long I bet she’s never had it cut. I also notice that she doesn’t answer, except with a warm, blushing smile.
“She’s a little shy,” Ryder whispers toward me when Lucy gives her attention back to the pens and paper in front of her.
My mouth forms an O as I watch the girl. The conversation stays quiet as we finish our food, and then I excuse myself, eager to get back to Murph alone in the bedroom. I grab him a sandwich and take it to him, hoping he’ll eat something. That angry image of him from last night refuses to leave my mind, but this new information on Ryder’s daughter has me pitying Murph a little more. He must constantly feel so alienated from those he loves most. His best friend died of an addiction he didn’t know existed. His foster mom replaced him almost immediately. Now, his own brother has a secret child he has no idea about.
As I enter Hazel’s room, I stand in the doorway and watch him before stepping in. He’s asleep on the bed next to her. He dwarfs her tiny frame with his large size, lying on top of the covers with his heavy black boots. He hardly looks so intimidating now. In fact, I want to walk over and touch his cheeks, noticing how his warm skin glows in the sunlight.
Instead of touching him, I set the sandwich on the nightstand and curl up into the chair by the window and watch them sleep, hoping he finds a moment of peace before the grief sets in.
Someone gently shakes my shoulder as I peel my eyes open. I was deep into a dream, riding mindlessly on my bike across the beach. There were arms tight around my waist and a warm body against my back. It was pleasant as fuck, and I almost don’t want to wake up.
Especially since I know why they’re waking me up.
“Murph,” Savannah whispers. When my eyes open, I see her face, silhouetted in the early evening sun. I want to focus on how beautiful she looks in this moment and not the words coming out of her mouth. “She’s fading, Murph. Shelby says it’s time to say goodbye.”
A low groan escapes my mouth, and Savannah’s hand lingers on my chest. If I could pull her against my body, I would.
Instead, I sit up and look at Hazel sleeping next to me. Ruby is holding her hand, stroking her arm as tears fall silently down her cheeks. “I’ll miss your terrible sense of humor,” she mumbles.
“Where is the nurse?” My voice sounds like it's been through a blender, and my throat aches with the need for water, but right now I can only focus on Hazel.
“She’s in the kitchen,” Savannah mumbles quietly. “Murph—”
I can tell by her tone that she wants to calm me down. She’d rather I sit quietly next to her while we let this woman just die. Well, I don't do that.
“Fuck goodbyes.” My feet stomp loudly against the old wood floors as I leave the bedroom for the kitchen. There, leaning against the countertop is the young nurse, who seems to be too busy signing papers when she should be doing her fucking job.
Ryder is standing near the small kitchen table, but I don’t even look at him. Savannah is fast on my heels. “Get in there and do something,” I bark at the nurse. Her head snaps up in surprise, but much to her credit, she doesn’t cringe or look scared.
“I’m a hospice nurse, Mr. Murphy. My job is to keep her comfortable. I’d say today is her last day, so if you’d like to say your goodbyes before it’s too late, I suggest you do it now.”
“Get out of this fucking house,” I rage back. Everyone around me, including Ryder, is shouting my name. My vision pulses with fury. The only thought in my head is that I won’t let her die. Not this fast. Not this easily.
A soft hand pulls on my arm, and suddenly I’m face to face with Savannah, her soft fingers in my beard, keeping my sight on her. “Look at me,” she whispers.
And for a moment I do. I could actually let myself breath with Savannah’s hands on my body and her eyes on my face. It’s a comfort I’m not familiar enough with to let it take over. Instead, I spin around and grab the papers from off the counter.
The nurse crosses her arms and stares at me as I shove the papers into a black bag by her feet. “Get out. Savannah, call 9-1-1. We’re taking Hazel to a real hospital.”
“Murph, stop!” Ryder bellows from the window.
“Please don’t leave,” Savannah pleads with the nurse, still holding tight to my arm.
“If you want me to leave I will,
but I’m telling you, Mrs. Whitaker signed a DNR and legally, they cannot help her. If you move her, you’ll only bring her pain.”
“We’re not moving her.” Ryder steps up behind the nurse, and I notice the way he tries to position himself between us. Like I would actually hurt this woman. I’m not going to lay a finger on her, but right now, I want her out of my sight.
“She’s stirring,” a shaky voice calls from the hallway.
“Come on, Murph,” Savannah says as she pulls me toward the room, but my feet are still as stones against the floor. I can’t watch someone I care about die. I can’t add Hazel to that list of people I care about because everyone on that list is gone.
“Daddy?” There is a small voice that quiets every other voice in the room, and it’s so out of place, it distracts me from the worries playing in my head. As I turn to find a small figure with long nearly white locks step out of the living room, my head practically spins.
She has Ryder’s long face and broad mouth. And my eyes don’t leave her small form as she scurries over and launches herself into his arms.
It probably shouldn’t be so surprising. Ryder was always active with the ladies, and after being gone so long, I would probably be more surprised if he didn’t knock someone up. The surprising part is the way he cradles her, kisses her head, holds her close. He brought her here, with all of the toxicity between him and his asshole brother who would give him hell no matter what…
“Murph, it’s time, honey.” Ruby calls me again from the hallway. She has a hand out toward me, and I finally unlock my feet from their stance and walk toward the woman. Her warm hands grip my arm as I stumble into the room.
For a moment, I think it’s too late. Hazel doesn’t move, and I can’t hear her breathing anymore. Then, she takes a long, staggering breath. When she lets it out, it seems like the last one.
I take her hand and hold it, even though it’s already cold. Then, I harden the layer around my heart with another cold wall, just to be sure that nothing gets in...or out.
Within moments, she’s gone.