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Edith was exhausted and fell asleep in mid-sentence. I sat with her until Austin came by.
“How is she?”
“She’s weak. I don’t think it will be long now.”
I pulled some tissues from my purse and wiped at my eyes. I had cried so much in the past couple of weeks that my eyes were burning. I couldn’t sleep, and I was barely eating.
“I think you’re right. I hate to admit that, but she’s suffering. I want this to end soon,” he said.
“I have to go. I have a conference call in an hour. I might be coming out to Los Angeles in a few weeks.”
“Are you taking your usual trip to the Maldives?”
“I might cancel. I can’t go with Edith like this.”
“She might not survive that long.”
A fresh batch of tears squeezed from my eyes, and I wiped them. I got up so Austin could sit next to Edith. He hugged me hard before I left the room. I ran back to the office for my conference call and to handle a few hours of emails and paperwork. When I left at seven, I was spent. I’d been getting three hours of sleep a night, waking up while it was still dark out.
I went home and ate a piece of toast and drank a cup of green tea. I didn’t feel like eating anything else even though this was the first meal I’d consumed all day. The stress of Edith’s sickness was getting to me. She wasn’t family, but I considered her to be. I know it’s harsh to say, but I wouldn’t feel the same if one of my parents died.
I passed out while I was reading through a contract a director had sent me and bolted awake, sitting upright at 1:42 AM, papers were strewn all over my bed. Four minutes later, Austin called to tell me that Edith had died. I burst into tears, dropping the phone on the bed.
“Sammy,” he yelled and kept up until I picked up my cell
“Austin,” I whimpered.
“Do you want to say goodbye?”
I hiccupped into the phone as tears coursed down my face. “I can’t see her like that.”
“I’m coming over. We need to support each other. I need you.”
“I need you, too.”
Austin arrived at my apartment two hours later. I hadn’t bothered to change from the light blue sweatpants and pink t-shirt I changed into when I arrived home. He looked horrible. His eyes were red and face puffy from crying. I’m sure I looked the same.
“I’m sorry,” I said as he walked through the door.
He pulled me against him and clung to my shirt. We cried together, and when he was finished, my shoulder was wet from his tears.
“I thought I was ready,” he croaked.
“Austin, you’re never ready when a loved one passes. Edith was one for the ages.”
“I can’t believe she’s gone.”
“How’s Roman?”
“He’s on his way to New York. His wife, Cindy, was sick and he went home this afternoon. I think if he knew our grandmother would die, he would’ve stayed.”
“I’m sure, but you don’t know. She could’ve lived another two weeks.”
“She didn’t want to. I know she was suffering. She would cry in her sleep.”
I began to cry again, and so did he. We were a mess.
I stroked his hair. “Are you hungry? Can I offer you anything?”
