The Words We Leave Unspoken(54)
“But if everything’s okay, why are you sick?” Max asks, innocently.
“Well… I was taking the wrong medicine before and my body didn’t like it and that’s why I had to go to the hospital, but now I’m going to have the right medicine.”
“Are you going to die?” Max asks bluntly with his eyebrows pulled in tight.
“Well...” I look at John, unsure of what to say.
“Not for a really long time, Buddy,” John says and reaches over and musses Max’s blond curls. This seems to placate him.
“I don’t want Mommy to die. Who’s going to cut the crust off my sandwiches? Who’s going to tie my shoes in double knots, the way I like it?” I smile at the simplicity of his thoughts but my heart breaks at the same time.
“So you’re going to be okay?” Olivia asks hesitantly, much less confident than Max with our answers.
“Yep. I’m going to be okay. I have to take it easy for a while until my body heals from being sick, but after that, everything will be back to normal,” I say, squeezing her hand.
“Promise?” she asks, her eyes so big I am reminded of her face as a toddler. I hesitate for the briefest moment, not wanting to make a promise that I can’t keep, but knowing that I need to reassure her, that it is my job to protect them both from the horrible truth, the crippling fear of my death; I lie.
“Promise.” The physical ache in my chest morphs into a stabbing pain that takes what little strength I have to contain. John and I exchange a look and then he gives me a slight smile. I feel exhausted all of a sudden and John must sense it. He stands up and says with more energy than I can muster, “Who wants a hamburger?”
“Me,” Max cheers.
Olivia’s not buying John’s enthusiasm, she sits still and stares at me as if I might disappear the moment she turns her head.
“Go eat, Love Bug,” I say. “I’m just going to rest for a while.”
She stands up, albeit reluctantly, and follows John and Max out the door.
I exhale the breath I’d been holding as a flood of suppressed tears pour down my cheeks and a choked sob echoes in the abrupt silence of the room. I give in to the pain as I wonder how much more my damaged heart can endure.
Chapter 31
Charley
After leaving Olivia and Max with Gwen and John, I lingered outside the door to Gwen’s room, just waiting. I’m not sure how much time has passed when John and the kids finally step into the hallway, moving so slowly, it’s as if their feet are weighted down with bricks.
I quickly muscle a smile and say, “Hey guys, where to now?”
“We’re heading across the street for a burger,” John says. “Wanna come?” he asks almost as an afterthought. Knowing he needs some time alone with Olivia and Max, I decline.
“You guys have fun and I’ll see you in a bit,” I say. Neither Olivia nor Max respond. John pats my shoulder and then I watch the three of them walk away, hand-in-hand.
I poke my head into Gwen’s room, but she seems to be asleep and I don’t want to wake her.
I watch her chest rise and fall for a moment, trying to imagine how hard this must have been for Gwen, putting on a brave face to tell her children that she’s sick. I worry about Olivia and Max and how this moment changes the course of their lives, thrusting an unfair dose of reality into their na?ve world that no child should have to face.
I leave Gwen and return to the waiting room.
I spot my mother sitting alone in the corner with her back to the only window; a small pool of light shines through like a halo around her face. Her eyes are vacant as she stares at nothing in particular, her fingers fanned across her lips. I sit down in the chair next to her and several minutes tick by before she acknowledges me, as if her mind had to travel back from some distant place before it could land here in this bleak reality.
She drops her hand from her mouth and says my name.
“Hi Mom,” I say. Her mouth lifts on one side in a half grin as if a full smile requires too much energy or happiness.
She turns her body toward me and takes my hand in both of hers. I look at our hands and note how similar they are, small and thin with long, spindly fingers. It feels strange to hold my mother’s hand, intimacy has never really been our strong suit.
We both stare at our hands, our heads tilted so close to one another that I can smell her strawberry scented shampoo. Her voice is quiet and soft as she says, “I keep going back in my mind to when you and Gwen were young and I keep asking myself if things would be different if I would have handled it all better. I look at the both of you and I’m so proud of the strong, competent women that you’ve become, but over the past few days I’ve seen firsthand the cracks in your foundation and I can’t help but feel that it’s my fault.”
I look up at my mother’s face; her eyes are fixed on our hands as if she’s afraid to look into my eyes. Tears slowly trickle down her cheeks and she reaches up with one hand to wipe them away. I don’t know what to say. We’ve never talked about the past or our feelings or anything else involving matters of the heart. I have always blamed my mother for my issues with relationships and intimacy and anything else that seems to go wrong in my life. But I have to wonder what “cracks” she is referring to. The part of me that seems hell-bent on spending my life alone rather than risk my heart? I know that love can lift you up and make you feel invincible but I also know how vulnerable it can leave you. The higher the high, the harder the fall and the more violent the shatter, scattering a million tiny shards of your heart into a thousand different directions. I don’t know how many falls a heart can take before there is nothing left to put back together, but I have never wanted to find out. And Gwen? What “cracks” does she have? The fact that she couldn’t tell her own husband that she’s sick? That she felt she couldn’t rely on someone else? I’ve never thought of Gwen as anything but whole and strong, shatter-proof and well... perfect, really. But my mother is right, Gwen has her own deep-rooted issues but she hides them better.