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“I hope I’m not disturbing you.” The voice was a man’s, one Dei recognized as his mom’s primary doctor—Ethan Fuller, who was very kind but also very blunt.
Dei rubbed at his eye tiredly. “It is what it is. Did something happen?”
“Her blood pressure dropped significantly tonight. We managed to stabilize it, but she’s stopped eating, and nothing we’ve done is working consistently. Carol’s her nurse on duty tonight, and she said you were away, and I hate to interrupt your vacation, but this isn’t something we can ignore. We need to sit down and have a frank talk as soon as you can.”
Dei managed to get to the back door, and he slid it open, collapsing on the deck with his back pressed to the rough stucco. He stretched his leg out and pinned the phone between his stump and his ear, using his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Ah. Yeah, I’m in California. Is this like, get on a flight right now and you’ll be lucky if you don’t miss her, or…”
“This is a ‘I’d like to sit down with you within the next week or two’ sort of thing,” Ethan said. “Not because she’s in danger of passing away, but because she’s severely malnourished, and it’s time for us to make some decisions regarding hospice.”
Dei swallowed heavily. “Yeah, I…okay.” He felt defeat rush through him so profound he felt like he was going to choke on it.
“I’m sorry. Sometimes things spiral faster than any of us could have predicted. It’s not a fun conversation, and it’s definitely not one we want to have on the phone if we can help it.”
They were kind words, and honest ones, but in truth, Dei had seen this coming. His mom’s condition had never been a slow decline. It had been long plateaus with massive valleys that she never recovered from.
Maybe, for her, it was lucky. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be locked in her own brain like that for years and years.
“I need to try and get ahold of my sister,” he said. “Then I’ll book my flight. Will you please have someone call me immediately if things get worse?”
“Of course,” Ethan said, “but I’ve been doing this for many years, Deimos. I promise you’ll have time to say a long, long goodbye.”
He wanted to believe him, but maybe this was the price he was paying for happiness. It was cruel, and it was unfair, and he wasn’t really sure that was even possible. After all, why would god care about someone so small and insignificant as him?
And why would He rest the weight of that on the way Dei had fallen in love with one of the kindest men in the world? He picked at the edge of his Saniderm. The tattoo was aching and itching a little, and the plasma beneath it had mixed with the ink, so he couldn’t make out the owl anymore, but he could picture it in his mind.
And he could picture the way Felix had looked up at him over and over with that sly little grin, knowing what he’d done.
Fuck.
Dei didn’t want to complicate what progress he’d made by all of this.
After hanging up, Dei took a trembling breath, then scrolled through his contacts for Sofia. He hadn’t tried calling her since well before he left, and he was pretty sure there was no chance in hell she was going to pick up, but he had to do everything he could to find her.
It rang four times, and then he was met with silence before, “Is Mom dead?”
The sound of her voice startled him so badly it took him a second to find his voice. “Uh. Hey. And no. Not yet.”
“But she’s getting close.” It wasn’t a question, and she sounded more resigned than sad, which made sense.
Dei swallowed down his anger and frustration with her because now wasn’t the time to berate her for disappearing on him. “The doctor said it’s time to talk hospice.”
Sofia was quiet for a moment. “Are you with her? Can you put the phone to her ear?”
“I’m in California,” Dei said.
Sofia made a noise of outrage. “Are you fucking serious? You’re in California right now? And you just what, left her there to—”
Before Dei could defend himself and point out her absolute hypocrisy, he heard someone on the other end of the phone speaking very softly. Sofia had obviously covered the phone, but she came back a second later. “Sorry.”
He took a breath. “You have some fucking nerve, Sof. Like, the size of your goddamn balls—”
“I know,” she said in a rush. “I know. I’m not…I’m not well, okay?”
He pressed his finger and thumb against his eye, letting himself push extra hard on his prosthetic since he could barely feel it. “How bad is it?”
“I’m in rehab.”
Well. That was…something, he supposed. “Voluntary?”
