Acts of Desperation(58)
“Mom and Dad said you’ve been spending a lot of time here. Have you guys just been talking a lot?” I asked.
“Here and there, but mostly he’s been sleeping,” she said.
“I assume he’s going to do chemo?” I asked.
She shook her head. “The doctor used the term ‘palliative care’, which essentially means they can keep him comfortable during his final days. He’s too far along for chemo to do any good.” She started crying and blotted her tears with a tissue that had been balled up in her hand. “I feel so guilty Sem. I wished for him to die so many times. I feel awful. I wished for the father of my children to die. What kind of person does that?” She hid her face in her hands. “In my wildest dreams, I never imagined he actually would.”
“Sarah, you had a normal human reaction. You certainly couldn’t have known he was actually sick, and just because he is, doesn’t undo everything he’s done. He’s still the same person he was before,” I said.
“I know and I’m still mad at him, furious, but…” She shrugged her shoulders. “I-I think it’s the kids I’m worrying about the most and it’s messing with my head.”
“When was the last time you went home and slept?” I asked.
“Days. When I leave here, I go over to Mom and Dad’s. The sleeping arrangements there aren’t the best. I toss and turn a lot, worrying.”
“Why don’t you go home and take a shower and try to rest a little? I’m sure it’s best for him to sleep anyway so you’re not really doing any good here just staring at him.”
She took a few cleansing breaths. “I should do that.” She nodded her head. “Yeah, I think that’s what I’ll do.”
We talked a little more while finishing up our coffee, and I waited outside Anders’s room while Sarah said good-bye. I tried to listen in on their conversation, but Anders’s words were only indiscernible mumbles. All I could hear were Sarah’s repeated responses of “I will.”
On our walk to the parking garage, I asked what they were talking about, but Sarah only shook her head and said an exhausted, “Nothing.”
I drove her to her car and told her I’d touch base with her in a couple days. She looked like she could have used some well needed rest and some time to work things out for herself. Admittedly with all that was going on, I felt slightly confused. I didn’t want to see my nephews lose a parent and see the emotional toll it would take on them, but honestly I thought they’d probably live a more peaceful existence without him. So, I couldn’t say that I was happy he was dying, but I wasn’t really sad either. It was definitely a weird place to be, and I imagined my sister was probably feeling something similar. And, as far as their divorce was concerned, it would be shelved; there was no sense in pursuing it any longer.
The next few days passed in relative silence and then the weekend went by without a word. I called Sarah like I said I would, but each time I was sent directly to voicemail. I assumed it was the thick steel walls of the hospital blocking her reception. Finally, I sent her a message and asked her to call or text when she got a chance. All I ever got was a one word response—ok. It was unlike her.
Professionally, I’d been handling a few new cases and I was busier than ever. I assumed Jax had been making himself scarce because I never saw him. I had appointments and court appearances throughout the week anyway that kept me late every night and left me little time for anything else.
After my final court appearance of the week, I stood outside the elevator in my building and waited to go back up to my office. Standing there, I checked my phone for any updates, and finally I received a message from Sarah. She said they were transferring Anders to a Hospice facility. I knew it had to be an incredibly emotional situation. The elevator was taking forever so I sent her a brief response offering my support in whatever way she might need. When I finished typing, I shut my phone off and was slipping it in to my pocket just as the elevator doors opened. I blindly stepped forward when someone walking out grabbed my arm.
I looked up and saw Jax. My breath caught in my throat and I stood as his lips brushed against my ear. “I’m taking care of everything,” he whispered. Then, he was gone. By the time I turned, he was already walking through the glass doors as the elevator door was closing.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Summer had officially arrived and the air was hot and sticky. People in Cincinnati complain about the weather in the summer all the time. It’s muggy and sometimes miserable, but I love it. Driving with your windows down, sleeping with your windows open, picnics in the parks, and hearing the crickets at night, there’s nothing better in my opinion.
After Anders was moved into the hospice facility, he began to go downhill quickly. It wasn’t long after that Sarah told the children—despite Anders’s requests not to tell them. Sarah said Anders didn’t want to appear weak in front of the children, but when she could tell he didn’t have much longer, she went against his will and did what she knew was right.
Sam and Will took the news as well as two children of their ages could. At times they were stoic and at others they were confused and sad. But children are resilient, and they were spending lots of time with my parents, so I knew they were surrounded by lots of love, and they’d be alright.