This Is Not How It Ends(69)

“Is my mom going to die?”

This got him to look at me. “I can’t answer that just yet.”

If you’ve ever wondered how quickly a bad reaction to cholesterol medicine could turn into a burial, just sit in a hospital while worst-case scenarios played in your mind. There was no finer line than that between life and death. And imagination was a powerful tool when it held your mother’s life in its hands.

Philip wriggled out of his jacket and placed it around my cold shoulders. He had tried to get me to eat, but I couldn’t get food down. The fear had planted itself in my gut. There’d been no doubt in my mind there was something very wrong with my mother. I’d felt it in my bones, how my body became infected by her plight.

Dr. Deutch had come out and taken a seat across from us.

“Mom’s ultrasound showed a dilated bile duct, which means there’s likely an obstruction. A CT scan . . .”

I didn’t like the way he referred to her as Mom—as though he knew her, knew anything about her. “It’s not her meds?”

Philip had drawn me closer. “Hold on, Charley. Let the man finish.”

“A CT scan will tell us a lot more.” I must have looked confused, because he said, “It’s a sophisticated X-ray. We get a much closer look at the soft tissue . . .”

“What are you looking for?” But I’d already known the answer to the question. They were looking for something bad. A tumor. A physical obstruction to explain why my mother’s bile duct had been dilated. I was no medical doctor, but this piece of the puzzle had been too easy to fit.

The buzzing phone startled me from the memory. It was Ben, and I hit “Ignore.” He texted. How’s Philip?

My fingers trembled, and I could barely type the answer.

He’s fine.

You?

Tired.

I’m sorry about earlier. Can we talk?



My head fell back on the pillow. I hated Ben, but I needed him, too.

Sure.



The phone rang, and I answered without saying a word. Our silence was altogether comforting and painful.

His voice in my ear confused me. “How is he?”

It would’ve been so easy to tell him instead of holding the aching lump in my throat any longer. Ben would’ve known how to fix it. He would’ve taken the pain away. But saying it aloud made it real.

“We’ll be home in a few days. They want to keep him for observation. It was a nasty fall.”

“I feel terrible, Charley.”

“Don’t.”

“I told Claudia we need a break. I can’t be with her after last night.” I blocked out his words. I didn’t need to be reminded of our bodies wrapped around each other.

“You’re going to come home, Charley. Philip’s going to heal. And then he’s going to leave again . . . and you’re going to keep wanting things that he can’t give you . . .”

A tear slipped down my cheek and spotted the white sheet.

“Charley?”

“What, Ben?”

“Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

Had he asked me that hours ago, I would have curled around him and let my body give him the answer. I’d have told him I wanted to engrave his skin into memory, the way it felt against mine. I’d have told him I wanted to explore all the secret places he hadn’t shown me, that I wanted more of him, and I didn’t know how to quash it.

I ran my fingers through my hair. It was greasy and limp, and I longed for a hot shower. “I can’t,” I said. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t know the severity of Philip’s condition.

“Did you think I’d sleep with you one time and be satisfied? Did you think it would be enough for me?”

I was crying, but he had no idea. And his words made me cry harder than before because I knew it was more than a nasty fall, and Ben wasn’t being entirely heartless and cruel for bringing this up.

My response was dull and empty. “We made a mistake. It was all a mistake.”

His quiet filled the phone. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“You’re scared. It’s understandable, but Philip’s going to be all right. We can sort this out. We’ll tell him the truth.”

I was shaking my head against the pillow, picturing Ben miles away.

“I need you, Charley. I won’t give up.” I knew of his quiet suffering. How he punished himself for not jumping after her, for not being quick enough. “You’ve gotta tell me what you want.”

“I don’t know anymore.” I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow.

Ben was in my ear. “I’ll love you forever, Charley, and every minute in between. You feel it. It’s real. This. You and me.”

I finally broke down. “Ben, Philip’s dying.”

He was silent, my words sinking in. “What did you just say?”

“Philip’s going to come home, but you’re wrong about his leaving. He’s never leaving again. He can’t leave. Because he’s dying, Ben. Philip is dying.”





CHAPTER 32

September 2018

Hot, streaming water eased the tension knotting my body, but did nothing for the spiraling hopelessness. Philip was going to die. Once upon a time, Philip was supposed to be my husband. Philip and I were supposed to spend our lives together, to grow old until eternity. I watched the water swirl around the drain, taking the illusion of Ben with it. Ben touching my body. Ben loving me. Ben ruining me for anyone else. To say that everything had changed would be a gross understatement. Leaving Philip was no longer an option.