“Every time you spoke about her condition, you always spoke as if it were a forgone conclusion she would be just fine,” I told him with a small smile. “And you always avoided any mention of the possibility things could go wrong for her. Then, the minute she started getting worse, genuinely bad, you stopped talking about her, you stopped…visiting her. I think the reality has only just settled in for you, and it’s scaring you half to death.”
“Seeing her like that,” Shane muttered, shaking his head and glancing toward the kitchen cabinets. “It’s…”
“Beyond description,” I said, nodding.
“Beyond horrifying,” he muttered, rubbing his mouth. “And you…you want me to what?”
“She’s asked after you several times,” I said quietly, noting the way he flinched. “She doesn’t want to admit it, but she thinks about you, possibly even worries. And I think she wants to see you, but she’d never ask.”
“Stubborn,” Shane grunted.
“The tree bore fruit that didn’t fall too far,” I told him with a fond smile. “You two are so much alike. Sometimes it’s a little unnerving.”
He looked at me in bewilderment. “Pardon me?”
I chuckled. “You’re both hardheaded and willful, not afraid to share your opinions on things, have an eerily similar way of looking at things though sometimes from different ends of the spectrum, and you’re both absolutely terrible at expressing your emotions in a productive and helpful way. No wonder you two stick so close to one another.”
“Do we now?” he asked in amusement, reminding me of the Shane I’d first met.
“Where have your siblings been, Shane?” I asked gently. “I haven’t heard much about them, and I haven’t seen them. They don’t come around, and they haven’t visited her. I don’t think there’s even been a sympathy bouquet.”
“She’d probably have them thrown out,” Shane snorted. “Though there is that weird plant she keeps near the windows but away from the open one.”
I smiled at the reminder. “The point is, the same is true of her. She never brings up any of her other children, only you.”
Shane set his coffee cup down, staring between his legs with a sigh. “My mother has never been the easiest person to like, especially for her own children.”
“Yet, it feels to me like the two of you have found a way to love and like each other,” I said with a shrug. “I may not understand it, especially her, but I think I get you a little bit.”
He snorted softly. “You might. You might not.”
“What matters is that your mother is sick, scared, and alone,” I said, shaking my head when he opened his mouth. “And no, having me or any of the other caregivers there isn’t the same thing. It’s not us she’s looking for when she’s laying there, wondering if these are going to be her last days.”
“God, seeing her like that though, Kevin,” Shane said in a strained voice.
I stood up, walked over to crouch, and put a hand on his arm. “Isn’t going to be easy. But do you think you’ll be any happier if she does die, and you knew she went alone?”
“She always said people do a lot of things alone, and dying was one of them,” he said, not looking up.
“The act of dying, yes, but that doesn’t mean she has to be alone for the whole trip,” I said, squeezing his arm. “And you don’t have to be alone either. Despite everything else, I can still be there for you too, as a friend.”
Shane glanced at me, raising a brow. “A friend speech?”
I chuckled. “We already addressed the fact that I started getting feelings for you, you jackass. Which means I care, and I can do that as a friend, which is what you need right now. And what she needs is her son there with her.”
Worry finally broke through in his gaze. “Is she really going to die?”
It was said in the same voice I’d heard many times before from children watching their parents shrink and deteriorate. Everyone always knew logically they would one day have to watch their parents die before they did. Yet when death either came close or finally arrived, no one was ever really ready. When faced with the possibility of watching their parent die, many reverted to scared children, wanting the comfort of Mom or Dad.
“It’s not guaranteed,” I told him. “She’s sick, she’s struggling, but the treatments are showing signs of working, and we both know she’s tough and scary enough to scare off the Grim Reaper if he decides to pop up and try to drag her off.”
That brought a smile to his face, and he snorted. “That’s…disturbingly true.”
“Be there for her,” I told him softly. “And if you’re willing to accept it, I can be there for you. Both during and…whatever comes after it.”
He looked me over, and I could see the toll the past several weeks had taken on him. “You’re a strange man, Kevin.”
“I’ve been told that a few times before,” I said, standing up and, after a moment’s hesitation, bent forward and kissed the top of his head. “Think about it. Just don’t take too long making up your mind.”