Saugatuck Summer (Saugatuck, #1)(89)
She gave me a disgusted look. “So what you’re saying is, you’re going to refuse to help our mother—who cannot function independently—because it means your future won’t be quite as glamorous as you’d like it to be?”
I blinked at her. “Glamorous?”
“Look, we all have to make sacrifices to be part of a family.”
My eyebrows crept toward my hairline. Ms. Open-Hand-Empty-Palm was lecturing me about sacrifice? Even worse, she was using that cajoling tone that said she thought she was imparting a lesson for my own good, not just attacking me.
“That’s the problem with you, Christopher. That’s why you have such a hard time getting along with everyone. You seem to think you should be able to do your own thing without pitching in. None of the rest of us get to do that.”
That’s when I snapped. When all the rage at being bludgeoned by accusations of selfishness year after year, all so I would feel bad enough to do things everyone else’s way, just erupted.
“Okay, you know what? Fuck you, Colleen. Fuck you. Fuck you.” Out of the corner of my eye, the cafeteria cashier hovered with her hand over a phone, no doubt ready to call security because I was cussing out a white girl. I snatched up my backpack, dug through it until I found my checkbook, which I’d brought thinking I might need to pay some of Mom’s bills while she was hospitalized. I scribbled a check and flung it in Colleen’s face.
“There. You want my future, my education? Fine. Have it. Just f*cking have it! I’ll withdraw from my classes and go become a fry cook somewhere. Once you’re done justifying the ways you’re going to end up spending most of that on yourself—because, hey, I’m the only one in this family you haven’t screwed out of money yet, and why should I be left out?—hopefully there will be enough left to hire a nurse or an aide or some shit to take care of Mom. Just don’t ever ask me for a f*cking thing again. Ever.”
Well. At least I accomplished one thing: I shut her up. Colleen was still staring at the check in openmouthed awe, no doubt already imagining the shit she just had to buy with that money and rationalizing why it was perfectly okay for her to do so, when I stormed out of the cafeteria, wiping my face.
I will not supply
What you need this time
I don’t have any strength left
But you never see what is troubling me
You just turn the other cheek
—Casey Stratton, “Sacrifice”
I went back to my mom’s room. Where else could I go? I couldn’t leave town if there were still medical decisions to be made, and my aunt and uncle would expect to see me there when they arrived in a few hours. She still wasn’t awake—a fact which made me question the nurse.
“Well, she’s on a lot of meds right now. It’s probably for the best that she’s resting, because otherwise she’d be hurting. She comes around for a few minutes every so often. Stick around, you’ll get to say hi.”
She smiled kindly and squeezed my shoulder.
Colleen didn’t come back to the room until Aunt Blythe and Uncle Pete arrived that evening, at which point I was still steaming. I let her do the talking to explain Mom’s condition to them, and then a doctor came by to check on her and answer more of their questions. While that was going on, I got a text from Jace.
I’m in the lobby. What room?
I directed him up to the third-floor room in the pulmonary wing while the doctor discussed his intention to put Mom on an oxygen mask.
“Her sats aren’t what we’d like to see, and if they don’t improve by tomorrow morning, we’ll do more tests to see if there’s a pulmonary contusion,” the doctor was explaining. “The other possibility is that she might be developing pneumonia. Another problem we’re struggling with just now is keeping her body temp stabilized. Her temperature keeps dropping, so we’re trying get her warm.”
I closed my eyes. Fuck. It was like her suicide attempt all over again. One problem cascading into another and another after that for weeks on end, waiting to see if she’d spiral down or pull out of it.
I swallowed. “She did that last time she was hospitalized, too, after her”—I slid a glance at Colleen—“brain injury. They said it might be because the trauma messed up her ability to regulate her body temp.”
Actually, they’d thought it was because one of the drugs she’d taken had damaged some of those functions, but I didn’t bother to add that.
The doctor nodded. “That’s definitely one explanation. We’ll monitor her overnight. I’ve called a pulmonologist to come examine her. If she’s declined any more by tomorrow morning, we’ll probably transfer her to the pulmonary ICU.”
I nodded and closed my eyes again, steepling my fingers under my chin as I listened to him describe the knee injury and an upcoming consult with an orthopedic surgeon. A quiet knock at the door made me open them again.
Jace stood there wearing a friendly but cautious smile. Whatever the circumstances, he was, after all, Meeting the Family.
“Hi.” I smiled back a little uncertainly. None of them even knew about Jace. Still, I held out a hand to him. “Come on in. Aunt Blythe, Uncle Pete, Colleen, this is my boyfriend, Jace. Jace, this is my family—and of course, my mom.” I gestured to the bed.
“Pleased to meet you.” Jace bobbed a polite nod and walked calmly to stand beside me against the far wall, squeezing my fingertips briefly. Colleen’s expression hardened and I had no doubt that if she found the opportunity, I’d be hearing about the impropriety of “flaunting” my homosexuality in front of everyone and making them uncomfortable. She would accuse me of doing it to show off and make a statement.