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CHASE
I take the day off work to help get Emily to her oncologist’s office in Denver. She’s been tense about this appointment all week, which isn’t exactly out of character for these trips, but to say it’s caused a strain on our relationship would be an understatement.
For the first time, she even wanted me to stay home while she had Drake or Indira take her, but there was no way in hell that was happening. I do at least agree to stay in the waiting room, where I make my way through every damn magazine available in an attempt to keep my mind off all the bullshit. I find Cosmopolitan very enlightening.
After what feels like forever, she comes back out and sits down beside me, leaning back in her chair and staring off into the room. She’s been doing that a lot lately. Even though her physical body is still with me, it feels like she’s already disappeared.
“Do you need to go back in there?” I ask her, to which she shakes her head. “Are you ready to go, then?”
I receive a nod in response. Other than that, just silence.
On our way home, she doesn’t turn on the music and neither do I.
When the quiet gets to be too much, I glance at her. “What’s going on, Em? I need you to talk to me. We’re a team, remember?”
I’ve respected her boundaries over the past several months, giving her space when she needs it and not making her illness the most important part of our lives, but I can see the defeat written all over her. If she’s finally made plans for the end, it’s time for me to know what they are.
She sighs, continuing to stare out the window. “I haven’t been taking any of my medications—other than the morphine and Zoloft—since July. I know I told you I still would for now, but... I haven’t been.”
“But I’ve been refilling them,” I say, feeling the strain in my fingers as they tighten on the steering wheel. I wish I had skipped the extra coffee this morning and eaten something instead, because my head is swimming and my stomach feels like lead. I blink to fix my focus on the road.
“I’ve been flushing them, so you can stop. They’ll monitor my morphine and adjust it as needed. Insurance covers a nurse around the clock, whenever we’re ready for it. Because you sure as heck are not giving me sponge baths.”
“Jesus, Emily.” I take a long, shaky breath, but it does nothing to stop my head from spinning. As a wave of saliva floods my mouth, I swallow repeatedly, willing the caffeine and stomach acid back down my esophagus.
The road blurs before me, so I take a quick look in the rearview mirror. Seeing it’s clear, I slow down and pull over on the shoulder. I quickly place the truck into park and rest my forehead on the steering wheel, trying to get control of my breathing, my stomach, my thoughts.
“Do you think hospice will be too hard on Willow?”she asks.
I blink repeatedly, willing my stupid mouth to speak, but my stupid brain won’t cooperate.
“Me dying at home,” she says, “in my room. Should I do it in the hospice house instead?”
I’m quiet, avoiding eye contact until I can work through my emotions. Hell no, Willow won’t handle it well. Her mother is going to die. Whether it happens in a hospital or at home, Willow isn’t going to be okay for a long time.
“If that—” My throat is raw with emotion, and I shake my head. “If being at home is what will make you happy, Em, then that’s what you need to do.” Feeling defeated, I drop my hands into my lap and lower my head, rolling it in a half circle to try to release some of the tension in my shoulders.
When I raise my head back up to her, she says, “I think you should sell the house.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “It’s the only home Willow knows.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem. I don’t want her spending the rest of her life lost in those memories.”
“She has just as many good memories in that house as she does bad,” I argue. This conversation is pissing me off. Not because she wants to talk about it, but because we have to talk about it. It’s not fucking fair—to me, to her, to Willow.
“No, Chase, she doesn’t. No matter how amazing the first five years of her life were, they will never outweigh having to watch her mother die within those walls.” Tears fall down her cheeks freely, but I’m not even sure she notices them. Crying has become second nature to her. This anger and defeat we’re both feeling has been hanging over our heads for quite some time now. “What would you do with my room? Just leave it empty forever?”
“I get it,” I say, not wanting to upset her any more than I already have. “It just seems like a really big step. Don’t you think that another life-altering change might be too much for her right now?”
She crosses her arms over her chest and trains her hard gaze on me. “Do you remember when your mom used to make us go to Sunday school every week?” she asks me, and I nod weakly. “You hated it. You’d always argue with her about what a waste of time it was because you didn’t believe in any of it. But even when we were older and she stopped making you go, you still went. We’d been going every Sunday for years. It was our routine.”
“What’s your point, Em?”
“My point,” she emphasizes, “is that you get too wrapped up in the routine of things. You can’t hang on to something just because it’s what’s you know.” She pauses and exhales, deflating a little from her angered state. “You’ve done so much for me and Willow over the years, but it’s time for a change. Both of you deserve a fresh start.”
“Come on, you know that none of my choices have been a hardship. Our time together has given me nothing but happiness, even through all this bullshit.”
“Well, duh,” she smarts. “If I thought any differently, I’d come back and haunt your ass.”
