Desperately Seeking Epic(67)

It’s not his fault, but I kind of want to shoot across his desk and punch him. I clear the emotion from my throat and straighten myself in my seat. The doctor jots something down and tears off two scripts from his pad. “If she’s in pain, give her these. She needs to be comfortable.”

“How long?” Marcus pipes up.

My breath hitches with his question. I hate that he’s asked, but on the other hand, I want to know the answer.

Dr. Jones’ mouth tightens for a moment before he answers. “It’s hard to say, but if I had to guess, two months maybe . . . three at most.” My vision begins to blur as I stare blankly at the clock behind his head, willing time to slow down.



When we get Neena home, we move into strategy and execution like we’re about to make a military strike. First mission: lessen her exertion. We rearrange the living room and move her bed downstairs. Neena, of course, hates it. She does not want to move into the living room, but it’s one of those times where we have to do what’s best for her, not what she wants. Clara, knowing Neena may want some privacy, rigs a curtain so Neena can close herself off from the room if she wants to. We hang her Masters of the V posters up, which seems to make her a little less angry. Marcus left to pick up a few things and returns with a video monitor so we can see and hear Neena at night when we’re in bed. Neena makes us promise not to use it until things get really bad.

After we get Neena settled, Clara looks exhausted and emotionally drained. I feel so powerless. I can’t cure Neena; take her pain and illness away. And I can’t take Clara’s sadness and worry away either because I feel the same way. She’s sitting at the kitchen table, her eyes closed, head in her hands. She doesn’t have a lick of makeup on, her long hair is braided to the side and yet, somehow, she looks amazing. But she looks worn out and I wonder when was the last time she had a day for herself. Her nails and toenails are plain; no paint. Her shirt has a blood stain on it from Neena’s nosebleed. She deserves some pampering. More like she needs it. She needs a little reprieve.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and take a nice, hot bath?”

She smiles tiredly. “Yeah, that would be nice.” Standing, she kisses me chastely before walking morosely out of the kitchen. Digging through the kitchen junk drawer, I find her address book.

It takes two calls and thirty minutes later, I’m dialing the airline company as I hold my credit card, ready to pay.

Clara is going to love this surprise.

And something tells me, Neena will too.





We put off the interviews for over a week or so to focus on Neena. I think the bloody nose incident paired with Dr. Jones’ extremely dismal news brought everything into focus. We’re in the final weeks of my daughter’s life. I feel lost but I power through like always. Bowman and Larry have stepped up and are helping with running the managerial part of the business and I couldn’t be more grateful. We need as much time with Neena as we can get.

I called hospice and they sent a lovely woman by the name of Karen over to meet with us. She has a daughter Neena’s age who also loves Masters of the V so she and Neena really hit it off. But last night Neena reminded me Paul and I had not finished telling the story of how we came together. She wants to know. Badly. She wants us to see Ashley again. Paul couldn’t meet with her today for some reason, but I agreed to. She insisted we meet earlier this time. We normally meet around five, but I didn’t question it.

“You holding up okay?” Ashley asks as I walk in. Before I can answer, she hugs me. Tight. Like a family member would. I can’t deny, I’m a little thrown off by it, but I hug her back. It’s been two weeks since Neena’s bloody nose issue and it’s happened several more times. Since then, she rests most of the day and has little bouts of energy here and there, but they are very short-lived, causing my worry to go through the roof. Paul and I have taken shifts, sleeping in the living room, but Neena has hated it.

“I’m okay.” Maybe if I keep saying it, it will be true. I’m okay. My daughter is dying, but I’m okay. It’s such bullshit.

“I know with everything going on, it must be difficult to do this, but . . .” She pauses and bites her lip as if questioning her next words.

“But what?”

Her gaze meets mine and she inhales deeply. “First off, I’m sorry for being so direct. I was hoping to have everything finished before Neena . . . passed away. She really wants to see this.”

Clearing my throat, I wipe at my nose. “Then let’s get this done. I want her to see it, too.”

We both take our seats and Zane clips my mic on.

“Where’s Mills?” I ask. It’s odd he’s not here. Although, I’m not sure I want to see him. Doesn’t he know my beautiful daughter has a crush on him and he needs to be nicer? I know it’s not his fault, but I hate that she feels the way she does about herself because of him.

“Couldn’t make it this morning. Had something to do,” Zane mumbles tiredly.

“We last left off after Paul kissed you.” Ashely’s mouth curves slightly. “What happened next?”

I have to chuckle a little. Not because it’s funny. What happened next wasn’t funny at all. But what else can I do but laugh about it at this point? “Paul left.”

Ashley looks as if she’s trying to touch the ceiling with her eyebrows; she’s so surprised. “What?”