by Jamie Mackay
Chapter 20
The weekend together had seemed like an eternity, and neither Jake nor Tatum wanted it to end. Jake re-arranged his schedule over the weeks to come so that he could spend as much time as possible with Tatum. Most nights he would wait until Brady went to bed and then he would come over and spend the night.
Often Tatum would go with him to the farm; she would stay for dinner and then, as had become their custom, give Brady a goodnight kiss before he went to sleep. Tatum, Jake and Brady had become a unit. Tatum had become so much a part of the family, that on weekends she would sometimes go to the farm to help prepare supper and play cards with Brady, even when Jake wasn't home.
Tatum threw herself completely into her new relationship. As Jake had requested, she put all of her worries about WMI on the back burner. She wasn't about to let some stupid suspicions mess up what she had developed with the man she loved.
.
Her relationship with Jake had also distracted Tatum from her own family circumstance. Sophia and Sarah texted her news regularly and although Tatum continued to be devastated by her brother's situation, she had convinced herself that he would have his surgery and come out of it just fine. Her mother had told her he was scheduled for surgery the last week of October, much later than they had expected. There had been complications. First there was too much swelling, and then Michael had developed an infection that needed to be brought under control before surgery could even be considered. The surgery was going to be risky; removing a tumour from the frontal lobe always came with risks. Tatum knew the risks well. She'd studied damage to the frontal lobe at length without ever thinking that she'd know the potential outcomes on such a personal level.
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When the end of October finally came, Tatum texted every day waiting to hear news.
"Surgery is tomorrow," came Sarah's latest text. "Just saw the doctor and they'll start at nine am. Should be done by noon."
"Prognosis?" Tatum texted back.
"Don't know. Apparently they can't tell how deep it goes from the picture. May have 'tentacles'?"
"How's mom?" Tatum wanted to ask more, but texting had its limits.
"Not good. Tired. She's aged so much."
"Call me tomorrow, right after. I'll be in the Research Unit, so I can answer."
"Okay."
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The day of Michael's surgery Tatum went to work, hoping she could distract herself by talking with the research assistants. As soon as she walked in the door, Garry met her, envelope in hand.
"Good Morning Tatum. I thought you might like this."
Tatum looked down at the envelope Garry was holding. In the return address spot, she read the words 'Canadian Institutes for Health Research'. Tatum looked up at Garry. He smiled while he handed her the letter and then stood looking at her expectantly.
"Should I open it now?" asked Tatum nervously.
"Uh, yah," Garry replied as if to say 'Duuhh'.
Tatum slowly slid her finger along the seal and pulled the multiple sheets of paper from their packet.
"Dear Dr. O'Neill," it read. "We would like to congratulate you..."
That was all Tatum needed to read. She grabbed and hugged Garry as she bounced up and down.
Once she'd calmed down, she read on: "You will receive one hundred thousand per year for the next three years to complete your project as proposed. You will be responsible to submit yearly progress and financial sheets."
That was all Tatum needed to know, she could read all the specifics later.
"Come on Garry, let's go look at my space. I want to get started on the Center right now."
Garry laughed as she tugged as his sleeve, excited like a school girl.
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Once the shock of the good news had worn off, Tatum calmed down and thought about her next steps.
First things first, she thought as she decided her very first task was to tell James. She wanted him to know and to be involved. In reality, this grant belonged to Michael and James, her inspirations. She paused, thinking about her brother lying on the operating table as she celebrated her good fortune.
I will tell him as soon as he wakes up, she promised herself as she quickly moved through the halls to her familiar Unit Three.
Tatum was in a hurry today. She ran right by Larry, oblivious to his attention and flirting.
"James, guess what?" she almost hollered as she pulled up the chair.
"I got the money. I can start the Center. This is basically your doing. Well, you and Michael. The two of you gave me the inspiration to go ahead with the proposal, and now there's money to develop an actual treatment center so that no one has to sit alone like you've done all these years. I want you to come with me, over to the Research Unit. See the space."
As soon as it was out of her mouth, Tatum knew she'd said the wrong thing. James started to rock violently, his hand movements becoming more intense and forceful. He started making loud grunting noises as if he were a bull about to charge; and then it became words.
Over and over he chanted, "Mom sexy; mom sexy; mom sexy."
And then, as suddenly as if it were the first time she'd ever heard him say the words, Tatum heard something completely different.
"Mom Six E," were the words that she now heard in his shrieks.
Hearing the commotion, the orderlies ran over to see if Tatum needed help or if she wanted James restrained. Before they were close enough to tell, James had changed his shrieks back into incomprehensible grunts.
"Nope we're good," Tatum told the orderlies, "I'm fine with him. He'd never hurt me."
The orderlies were satisfied and went back about their business. Tatum leaned over to the full grown man who was rocking and grunting like a child. She whispered in his ear so their conversation would be heard by no-one but themselves.
"I heard you this time James. Mom Six E. I don't know what it means yet, but I promise you, I'll figure it out."
As if she'd flipped a switch, James' rocking and shrieking halted. All that remained of his physical and emotional explosion were his perpetually moving fingers.
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Tatum sat with James a while longer, not wanting to leave him too quickly after he'd been so upset. As she sat, she glanced at her cell phone. She normally didn't bring her phone to work, but today was different. It was nearly one and she'd gotten nothing from Sarah except a couple of texts that said, "Nothing yet." Finally, just as she was about to leave James and head back to start initial plans on the Center, she heard the distinct sound of her personal cell phone ring.
"Tatey?"
"Mom? Is everything okay?"
"No honey. No. Everything isn't okay. We just talked to the doctor and Michael's surgery didn't go well. It's bigger than they thought, goes deep into the brain tissue. They think that's what caused the coma. It's inoperable honey. He's not going to make it."
Tatum heard her mother start sobbing into the other end of the line, and then she heard her father's voice pick up where Sophia had left off.
"Tate. It's dad. They've only given him a few days. I think you should come."
Tatum was barely comprehending what she was being told. Overcome with grief, the words her father was saying seemed like a bad dream. Michael couldn't be dying. He was going to have surgery and then she was going to go home and they would play fish and watch movies.
Through her tears, Tatum managed a simple, "Okay dad. I'll be there as soon as I can."
When she hung up the phone, Tatum sat beside James and cried like she'd never cried before.
Michael is going to die, was all she kept thinking over and over again, like an annoying song in her head; a really bad annoying song.
James leaned awkwardly over to Tatum. He put his clumsy arms, misshapen from years of staying in the same position, around her shoulders, and then, in the only inelegant expression of empathy he could muster, he laid his head against her own.
.
Still feeling as if she hadn't woken up from
some horrifying nightmare, Tatum finally got up from her seat beside James. She had no idea what she should do next. Anne, she thought blankly, heading to her most familiar work support in her moment of need. She went into auto-pilot and quickly advanced toward Anne's office; thankfully, she no longer needed to think to find her way around the institution, because rational thought was not something she was currently capable of.
Anne took one look at her and said, "Tatum. What's wrong?"
"It's Michael. The surgery didn't work. He's going to die." Even as she said the words, they didn't seem real. "I need to go."
"Yes you do," responded the supportive nurse, not questioning for a second Tatum's need to be with her family. "You just go. I will deal with things here," she reassured Tatum as she wrapped her in a maternal hug. "Call me when you can," she finished, letting Tatum know that eventually they would have to account for her whereabouts.
Anne walked Tatum to front entrance and while they walked, she encouraged Tatum to call Jake for a ride.
"I don't want you to be alone right now," she explained. Tatum dialed the number, no answer. Sam, she thought. Typical of the kind of friend she was, Sam was at WMI to pick up Tatum about five minutes later. She drove them back to Tatum's apartment and sat with her friend until Jake finally arrived. Time had taken away a bit of the shock and Tatum was starting to become more lucid.
"Thanks for staying Sam," said Jake when he arrived. "You're a good friend," he told her while he walked her out to her car.
"So is she," responded Sam.
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Once Sam had gone, Tatum and Jake sat together in silence. He held her tight, but she didn't have any desire for conversation. Finally, when he was satisfied that she would be okay, he went to the kitchen and made a cup of Earl Grey tea and then handed her the warm and comforting liquid.
"You know me well," she commented as she took the hot drink from his hands. Jake walked over toward her computer.
"I'm going to book some flights," he said as he walked.
"Flights?" she asked, curious about the plural.
"Oh geez, I didn't even ask. Is it okay if I come with you?"
"Okay?" said Tatum. "That would be perfect. I never thought you'd want to come."
"I want to be wherever you are," he responded walking back to her to kiss her cheek.
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On Saturday morning, both Tatum and Jake went out to the farm to make sure that Brady understood that they would both be gone for a few days. They had discussed taking him but decided that a time of family grief was not the right occasion for Brady to meet the O'Neills. They hugged him and kissed him goodbye. He held onto Tatum a little longer than necessary; Brady knew she was sad.
Once they were satisfied that Brady understood why he was being left behind, Tatum and Jake drove to Redman and caught the plane. With the sound of the engine and the comfort of Jake by her side, Tatum slept, exhausted from the emotional and sleepness night before.
.
For the first time that Tatum could remember, the entire O'Neill family was not loitering at the bottom of the ramp, anxiously awaiting her arrival. Only Peter was there, having taken on the responsibility of the airport pick-up so that all of the other family members could remain with Michael.
"How is he?" were the first words out of Tatum's mouth when she saw her brother-in-law.
"Not good. I don't think it will be long Tate. We should go straight to the hospital."
"Yah, let's go," she answered.
Jake looked at Peter and then the men introduced themselves to one another. Tatum had other things on her mind.
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When they reached the hospital, Peter led the way. It felt like they travelled for miles through the maze of rooms and curtains, before Tatum finally caught sight of anyone familiar.
"Mom," she said quietly as she pulled back the curtain.
Sophia O'Neill looked up and into the face of her youngest daughter.
"Oh, Tate. I'm so glad you're here." She wrapped her arms around Tatum in the most desperate hug Tatum had ever received.
Tatum greeted Sarah and her father the same way; the family holding onto each other like they knew they couldn't hold onto Michael. Then, slowly, Tatum made her way over to the bedside. If all her family weren't sitting beside the person lying in the bed, Tatum would never have recognized the body as her brother. His head was swollen beyond recognition and bandaged so that only his distended face remained visible. The tubes and machines that had been there previously seemed to have multiplied so that he now looked like a mechanical man, only surviving with the help of technology. Tatum took one look at her brother and collapsed over him in tears.
"We'll give you a minute," she heard her father say, and then she was alone.
"Michael, it's Tate. I hope you can hear me. This is the hardest thing I've ever done, but I've come to say goodbye. I need you to know I love you, and I will always love you. You've been a brother, a friend and an inspiration. I couldn't have asked for better." With those words, Tatum felt completely spent. She'd said her goodbyes; all that was left was the waiting.
"Mom? Dad? I'm okay. Come on back in," Tatum called to her family waiting outside of the curtained area.
The family re-entered the draped-off area and suddenly Tatum became very aware of Jake standing there, knowing no-one.
"Oh my goodness. Jake. I didn't introduce you," she stammered as she jumped up to stand by his side.
"I'm just fine Tate," he said quietly as he put his arm protectively around her shoulders. "We took care of that already while you were busy," he reassured her.
She turned into him and buried her face in his chest, as if hiding her face would make the sadness disappear.
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The funeral was Tuesday. It was a small service with mostly family and very close friends. When the service ended, the O'Neill's hosted a private reception in their home. Tatum was just anxious for the whole thing to be over.
"I don't feel very well," she told Jake as they sampled the hors d'oeuvres that the staff of Sophie's had carefully prepared for the occasion.
"I didn't feel well either," answered Jake, referring to his response to Julia's funeral.
"I want to go home," she said.
For the first time, Tatum realized that Wainwright had become, and from then on would always be, home.
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As was their custom, all of the O'Neill's, minus one, went to the airport to see Tatum and Jake on their way. Tatum still felt ill and hoped that her nausea was only temporary until her grief lessened.
Time heals all, she'd been told.
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They arrived Wednesday evening and went directly to the farm where Brady was waiting. Tatum wrapped her arms around the boy and held him close, understanding for the first time that she loved him desperately and that he would be a part of her life forever.