The Lies That Bind(30)

“Don’t be,” I say.

“Have you and Scottie been having fun?” he asks, his voice even more off.

“Yeah,” I say. “We had a nice day. We just got back….What’s going on with you? You don’t sound like yourself.”

There are a few seconds of silence before he clears his throat and says, “It’s been a rough twenty-four hours.”

I freeze, so afraid as I ask how his brother is doing.

“Not good,” Grant says, his voice cracking. “Do you…do you think you could come over?”

“Over where?” I say, knowing that it doesn’t matter—the answer is yes.

“To our hotel…my room…Or I can come to you?” he says.

“I’ll come there,” I quickly say.

“Are you sure?” he says, sounding so anxious.

“Yes….When should I come?”

“As soon as you can,” he says. “I need to see you.”



* * *



—

    I take the fastest shower of all time, change into jeans and a light sweater, and cab it across town, with Scottie’s reassuring voice in my head telling me that if something were really bad, they’d be at the hospital.

When I get to Grant’s hotel room door, I see a DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging from the knob. I knock anyway, and he opens the door immediately, standing before me, shirtless and in a pair of long Wake Forest basketball shorts. Clearly, he is just out of the shower himself; his hair is wet and uncombed. We exchange subdued hellos and hug. He then motions for me to come in and apologizes for the mess. I walk the whole way into the room, glancing around, taking in the two double beds, both unmade, and piles of clothing everywhere.

He turns, rifles through an open drawer, grabs a T-shirt, and throws it on. He then walks over to the bed nearest the bathroom, pulling up and straightening the covers before sitting down and patting the spot next to him. “C’mere,” he says.

I go sit beside him, and he takes my hand as I work up the nerve to ask about his brother.

“He’s at the hospital. He’s staying there tonight.”

“Did he…take a turn for the worse?” I ask.

“You could say that.” Grant nods, a tremor in his voice. He takes a deep breath, his chest swelling, then exhales slowly before going on. “Yesterday…while I was with you and Scottie at the pub, he was back in the room, overdosing on sleeping pills.”

I stare at him in horror, then stupidly blurt out, “Accidentally?”

“No,” he whispers, shaking his head, staring at the floor. “On purpose.”

“Oh my God,” I say. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Yes. I got him to the hospital in time….He just wants it to be over, Cecily,” he says as he finally breaks down, sobbing.

It’s the most heart-wrenching thing I’ve ever seen or heard, and also terrifying because I feel so helpless. Speechless, even. So I just put my arms around him and hold him, as we eventually go from sitting to lying down.

    After a long time, he says again, “He just wants it to be over…and he wants me to let him do it….Fuck.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, stroking his damp hair, his cheek rough with stubble.

He swallows, then takes a deep breath and says, “The Netherlands just passed a law. In April. Allowing assisted suicide.” He chokes on the final word. “But it’s not in effect yet….”

“Good,” I say, instinctively compartmentalizing, thinking only of Grant’s pain—not his brother’s. “So you don’t have to make that choice. It’s not legal.”

“But I do,” he says, adjusting his head, then transferring it from my chest to a pillow beside me. I turn onto my side, so we are now face-to-face. “Practically speaking, I do….I mean, I can’t watch him every minute. I mean, I could try…but isn’t that taking all that he has left?”

“I don’t know,” I say, thinking of how impossible it would be to help someone you love leave you forever. I think of the legal consequences, and even more so, the emotional ones. “You can’t do that….On so many levels…you just can’t.”

Grant props himself up on one elbow as I do the same, so we stay eye to eye. “I know,” he says, blinking. “And I’m so sorry. For bringing you into all of this. For asking you to come…”

I’m not sure if he means London or his room tonight, but I shake my head and reach out and touch his face. “Please don’t apologize. You don’t have to be sorry.”

“But I am sorry.”

“I wanted to come. You warned me that it could be bad….It was my decision. And there is nowhere in the world I would rather be than right here with you. In this room,” I say.

He hears me. I can see in his eyes that he feels the weight and truth of my words. “Thank you, Cecily,” he says.

    Neither of us moves for the longest time, until he reaches out and cups the back of my head with one hand, drawing me nearer and giving me the softest kiss, our first in London. My heart explodes as I kiss him back, no longer thinking, only feeling. We kiss and kiss, then undress and get under the covers and cling to each other, holding and touching and kissing even more until eventually it’s finally happening. Grant is inside me—all the way inside me—and for a few brief moments in time, we forget everything but each other.