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“Leo?”
“No.” I tell my mother.
No, they’re not taking him away.
No, she’s not leaving me.
Just no. No to everything and everyone. No.
“Son…” Francis takes a step forwards, his hand out like he’s about to pin me to the seat until I acquiesce to their plans and decisions.
“I am not your son,” biting back at him, I slap his hand away. My body is lifting from the chair I’m in and before I know it, I’m standing in the middle of their triangle.
This whole place is closing in on me and I hate the way they have all these cables hanging off the walls. I hate the way they leave their carts and trolleys parked in every fucking corner of the room. I hate that the light green and cream check pattern on the floor is slightly off, it doesn’t marry properly. The same drop of blood has been on that same fucking spot, right by the wheel of Cassie’s bed since I popped the stitch in-between my knuckles.
I hate this place. I hate them. I hate them all for all the shit they’ve done and failed to do. For poking and prodding at me to leave her. For cornering me. For trying to make me say goodbye.
I can’t!
“I can’t!” My loud roar registers too late. “I can’t do this right now. I can’t think about this. I can’t give you what you want. I. Can’t. So, just fuck off. Leave. Get out!”
“Cassie?” I turn as soon as I hear Penny call my Buttercup. “Francis? Francis, call the nurse!”
“What’s happening?” Stepping around me, he presses the red button on the wall to call for assistance.
The nurses come, the nurses go, and Cassie still doesn’t open her eyes.
* * *
I watch her and keep watching for days. I’m on the edge of my seat waiting for her. For a moment I thought I had her back, for a minuscule second, I thought she was going to open her eyes and give me one of her soft smiles.
It feels like we’re back at square one, waiting and waiting. I wish I was a more patient man. I wish that I was everything that she needs and more.
Really, I wish that it was me lying on that goddamn bed with all the fucking shit attached to my arms and hands. And sometimes I wish that she had never come back to me. Maybe she wouldn’t be lying on that fucking be
d.
Rolling my cigarette between my lips, I can’t take my eyes off her smile on the screen. The way her hand cups my jaw with that fucking soft laugh she likes to tease me with.
“It’s not really something I expect him to know.”
But I know, I know every fucking date there is to know. The only one I don’t know is when I fell so in love with this girl that the thought of being without her is enough to make me wish for death.
I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I jump at the knock on the door.
“Hey,” striding in, Fleur walks over and dumps her handbag on the floor by the bed before rearranging the very realistic fake flowers she’s brought with her. She did the same yesterday, and the day before.
“I brought you something too,” she tells me with a spritely sigh.
I stare between her and the Tupperware container that she holds out to me. Whatever it is, it’s still warm because the plastic is sweating.
“What’s that?”
“Food.” Rolling her eyes, she opens the lid and holds the container right under my nose. “I don’t know what to do for her, but I know she’d be upset if she knew you weren’t looking after yourself and…seriously, just eat the fucking food. It’s homemade and it might make you look better.”
“Umm…” Shit, I don’t know what to say or do. Fleur’s acting like we’re friends or whatever and with everything that’s happened, I don’t know if I have the capacity to open myself to another person. “Thanks?”
“You’re welcome.” She reaches for her bag and takes another container out.
